I want to start another story. I just don’t know what kind of story to do. Actually, I think I’m going to try for the contemporary thing again. So in an attempt to jumpstart the thing, I’ve written one of those author-talking-to-her-character thing.
She sighed. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here staring at the blank document screen imagining a conversation with one of my characters. Let me put it back on you. How do you think the story should start?”
He grinned a very wicked grin. “With sex. Hot, almost pornographic sex.”
She shook her head at him. “You are such a guy.”
“Darlin’, you’re the one writing me this way,” he winked.
“I can’t start a story with hot, almost pornographic sex,” she shot down. “It would be like giving away the ending.”
“Oh come on, you’re not going to make me wait until the middle of the story before I get some, are you? Please, I’m begging you,” he pleaded.
“If you’re not good, I’ll make you wait until the end,” she threatened.
He narrowed his eyes at her, studying her for a moment. Then he laughed. “Oh hell no. You can’t even sit here without imagining me naked. You can’t wait to tear off my clothes and describe every naughty detail.”
“Well, not every detail,” she groused. “I have to leave some of it to the reader’s imagination. And I don’t think your clothes will be torn off. An achingly slow strip down sounds so much better.”
He swallowed, feeling just a little uncomfortable with the gleam in her eyes. He squirmed in his chair.
“You’re a tease,” he hissed.
“Well thank you,” she replied.
“Have you decided what you’re going to call me this time around?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “This time around?”
“Sweetheart, I have been the star of at least two of your stories. This one will be the third. People are going to start noticing a pattern soon. Not that I mind. A fella needs work.”
“Well, I’m glad you don’t mind me using you,” she said.
“You might to give the dark haired guy a turn once in awhile though. He might think you don’t like him anymore. Or that tall one. He’s been giving me crap since you wrote that novel. I told him that he got a mention, but he’s still feeling neglected.” He waved at the figures hovering in the shadows. Then he peered a little closer at one of the fringers.
“Hey, what’s he doing here?” He demanded.
She turned to look at the youngest of the bunch. “Oh yeah. I wrote a short thing with him in it.”
“But you don’t even like him like that,” her main fella complained. “Besides, talk about robbing the cradle.”
“Whatever. I can write about anyone I want,” she shot back. “And it’s not like the woman in the story was old or anything.”
“Please just tell me it was a fanfic or something. Don’t tell me you’re going to put him in a ‘real’ story.”
“Yes, it was a fan fic,” she assured him. “I don’t know where to start your story.”
“Start with a name,” he smiled.
They sat together in silence as a Norah Jones song played from her iTunes program.
“Too bad I already used ‘Jake Winchester.’ Now there’s an awesome name,” she mused.
“I liked that one. Colby Davenport was good too. You never did finish that one,” he reminded her.
“Very true. But do I want to continue the uniform story?” She wondered aloud. She decided to stop calling it the Jail Story since it sounded like she was trying to write about inmates.
“I just thought of a title! ‘Caught in the Middle,'” she announced.
“Caught in the middle of what?” He asked.
“Oh, that’s a good question. Ummm, Caught in the Middle of Destiny?” She tried.
“What’s with you and destiny?” He teased.
“I’m trying to find mine?” She smiled at him.
Sometimes I really believe I’m a weird freak. LOL!
