Steps to Writing a Musical || Lin-Manuel Miranda

Step Six: Dont Stress

"Lin, this is the sixth time I've called you. I know you're probably annoyed by the sound of your phone, but I'm a little worried. It's been almost a month since the gala and you've only texted me three times. And two of those were about the show. Just — I'm worried, okay? Call me."

You were walking home from a lunch date with your brother when you passed by the diner. It made you think of Lin and how distant he had been since the gala.

"He's fine." You told yourself. "Don't worry about it."

You wanted to believe that he was just stuck in a creative rut from writing the show. He had those sometimes, just like all writers. She doesn't ever remember it being this bad, but it was bound to happen sometime, right?

You put the thought at the back of your mind as you arrived home. Not a moment after you removed your coat, your phone rang loudly. You all but scrambled for it, hoping it was Lin. Even though it wasn't you were relieved it was Chris. Maybe he could shed some light on the situation.

"Hey Chris." You answered smoothly as you put your hair up. "What's up?"

"Nothing much. Actually, I was calling to see if you've heard from Lin." He asked.

You sighed, "I've called him six times today. Went straight to voicemail."

You could hear the concern in Chris's voice as he took a deep breath. You could practically see him run his hand over his face as he sat back, "He hasn't answered me either."

"Well, he is a writer. Sometimes, he gets in a rut." You tried to use logic instead of your emotions cloud your judgement. "Right?"

"He's never gone this long without talking to someone. He hasn't even called his parents in a while." He told you. Chris was sure this was one of Lin's worst blocks. Usually he calls someone and lets them know he'll be missing in action for awhile. Even then, it's only for one week, maybe two. Lin was just too quiet for anyone's liking.

It wasn't two seconds later that you made up your mind, "I'm gonna drop by his apartment."

"Y/N, I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Come on, how bad can he be?"

"You've never experienced him like this. He's not gonna be himself."

You scoffed, "Please, I can handle Lin."

You didn't hear him mumble a I'm sure you can before he responded. "If you say so. I'll call you back later for an update."

"Talk to you later."

You gathered your phone and wallet in your purse and got in the car, heading to Lin's apartment. If he wasn't talking Chris, something definitely had to be wrong. You didn't know what you were driving into, but you had to see what was wrong with him.

You arrived to his apartment, not even bothering to knock. You knew his spare key was in his potted plant. You dusted off the key before heading inside and calling Lin's name.

When you flipped the light switch on, you saw his house in a state of uncleanliness that was simply unbearable.

Pizza boxes and Chinese takeout containers everywhere. Empty coffee mugs sat on the edge of the table where a stack of books threatened to fall over. His notes were scattered all over dining room table. You knew he was here; you could see the light from his office down the hall. The question was why wasn't he answering you?

"Lin, I can see your office light. Come on." You dropped your purse onto his couch and sighed at the mess before you. Gathering some of his trash into a pile, you spoke again. "What's up with you?"