Fiction Fragment Friday

This story started out being inspired by both a conversation and a general feeling. I tend to feed off of crowds even though I am an introvert. That got me thinking about it from a supernatural perspective. As I wrote the story it quickly became a character profile building the world around a character. I wanted it to be a bit more of a story though and as I was writing the connection started to build in my mind and continued tying it into the much larger novel I plan on returning to in a few weeks.

                The raucous laughter of the crowd was my best meal in years.  I had only seen live comedy once before, but it paled in comparison.  I couldn’t be sure if it was the crowd, my own lack of good meals, or a combination of both.  In those moments I didn’t care as I sat back soaking in the energy.  Surrounded by thousands of people I could give in to my own gluttony without fear of damaging the energy. 

                As an emotional vampire I nearly died during the pandemic.  It wasn’t just the lack of crowds to eat from, but the energy that was in the small gathering I could find in grocery stores.  Everyone was down so all I could take in was that negative energy.  It was like poison in my very core.  I could eat from a single individual, but that would drain them.  After a few moments I would just be eating the exhaustion or depression that would make me hungrier.  It is a vicious cycle of feeding causing the energy to sour making me need to feed more. 

                By the time of the show, I could barely make it to my seat.  Pains racked my body with every movement, and I could hear my joints cracking.  It was hard to even lift my leg to take a step, but I had powered through it.  When I reached my seat, I collapsed into it short of breath with no energy left.  It felt like I could not have taken a single step more, but I knew that if I needed to I would have.  That is the power of stubbornness and an unwillingness to give up. 

                My pains started to fade as I drank in the energy.  I could feel the muscles in my leg threatening to spasm, but even knowing the pain that might cause didn’t matter.  I felt better than I had in longer than I could actively remember.  As much as I hated being out in public it was the only way to get a good meal and I knew it.  It can’t just be any crowd though.  I need the energy of excitement and preferably happiness.  Sporting events are great for an energetic crowd, but laughter just has a different taste to it.     

                By the end of the show, I was ready to stand and walk back to my car.  The muscle deterioration and joint damage had not healed from just one feeding much like it hadn’t developed from one lack of feeding.  It is more like an adrenaline rush.  The pain just fades away and becomes something I can ignore.  I couldn’t help but wonder If there were any others like me in the crowd.  With that much energy there was more than enough to go around without impacting each other.  I’ve always wondered what would happen if two of us tried to feed off of each other at the same time, but it isn’t something I am brave enough to try.  I reached out for my door handle when a voice behind me caught me off guard.

                “The past few years must have been pretty hard if I was able to sneak up on you.”

                “Benjamin Eversole.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”  He wasn’t wrong.  At my best I was faster, stronger, and had more heightened senses than a regular human.  On that night I hadn’t heard or smelled him.  When I turned to look at him though he looked worse than I felt.  His eyes were haunted, he was leaning on a cane, and I was pretty sure his ribs were bandaged under his shirt. 

                “I’m in over my head and I need help.”  This shocked me.  He had never been so open about any sort of weakness.  The man usually oozed with false bravado just like every other magic user I had ever met.  “I’m calling in all my favors and could use some local friends to watch my back.”

                “I’m not sure how much help I can offer at the moment.  I’m kind of a shell of my usual self.  I need a few more crowds to really start getting back to functional.”

                “Now that is something I can help with.  In two days, we can have you back up to full strength.  So, what do you say?  Help an old friend save his son?”

                 “This is about your kid?  Why didn’t you say so? I’m in.”

                “Thank you,” he said and then dropped the spell keeping his companion hidden from me.  I was once again face to face with one of the most twisted women I had ever had the misfortune to meet.  I suppose only his son would cause Benjamin to work with his ex-wife.  The look of disgust and dismissal aimed at me filled her entire face.  Benjamin reached out handing me a card.  “Be here at noon tomorrow and I’ll fill you in.”

                I just nodded and got in my car.  The further I could get away from her the better.              

Fiction Fragment Friday

While I have said this before, once again this is not my typical story. Sure the setting is, but much about the story is not. I had an idea and started the story mostly to explore the setting and think through the design ramifications. Some of that was expressed in the story, but some of it just flavored how I thought about it. I hope you enjoy.

                The door opened to room R2L243 with an artificial whooshing noise.  The technology behind the mechanism was virtually silent, but early focus groups provided feedback that it didn’t make the experience special enough.  Guests could get silent doors on Earth and for the premium the rooms cost it was believed that every aspect should be unique to the experience.  The early focus groups would likely barely recognize the experience paying guests received at open, but they were directly responsible for it. 

                Jamie rushed into the room heading straight for the curved viewport that took up most of the outer wall.  “Oh my god Sam I still can’t believe we are actually here.”  Her eyes went wide as she took in the view of Earth through the curved reinforced glass.  She could make out the continents beneath the moving clouds.  The sight was only visible for about fifteen seconds before the station rotation shifted to a view of space.  She found that almost equally breathtaking. 

                “Anything for you dear.  After all you only turn fifty once unlike thirty-nine.”  He laughed and moved to duck as she threw a pillow from the bed at him.  Samual had not gotten used to half Earth gravity yet and found himself moving in a more exaggerated manor than intended.  Despite trying to recover he found himself stumbling and falling onto the carpet.  On Earth a fall like this might have caused an injury, but here it barely hurt.  The pillow continued out the door and hit the luggage robot in the face display. 

                Jamie was by Sam’s side in an instant.  “Are you ok?”

                He just laughed back at her.  “I’m fine.  No, I’m great.”  He jumped up in a way he had not done in decades. 

                The robot did not react to the scene.  It placed the pillow back on the bed and then placed their bags into a cabinet.  With its task complete it turned to the couple.  “Would you like the room orientation?”

                “Yes please.” Sam replied. 

                A small screen lit up on the wall next to the window.  “Please turn your attention to the viewport control.  Some guests may experience a level of disorientation from constant motion.  If for any reason you feel discomfort from the view the window can be turned opaque.”  A square panel then lit up on the wall.  “If this is not sufficient basic medications, including those for motion sickness have been provided.  Your room will be charged for their use.”  The robot continued to roll around the room highlighting features for three minutes before wrapping up its programed presentation with, “Finally all these features can be accessed by voice command.  Simply start your command by addressing the automated systems with the word computer.  Please attempt to lower the lighting by 10% to ensure you have understood the instructions and that the system does not have any difficulty interpreting your requests.”

                Sam gestured his right hand to Jamie indicating that she should do the honor.  “Computer lower lighting by 10%.”

                “Acknowledged. Lighting level lowering by 10%” The robotic voice came over unseen speakers hidden around the room.  Previous iterations had used AI voiced that sounded indistinguishable from a human, but the focus group had found it to be disconcerting.  They had irrationally felt like they were being watched when a more realistic voice replied.  Similarly live employees had carried bags and done orientation, but a very vocal member of the focus group felt it would be “cool” if they used robots that looked similar to ones on a popular tv series.

                “Very good.  If you have questions, you can address them to the computer at any time.  Thank you again for staying with us at Orbital Platform One.  We hope your experience is out of this world.”  The robot turned toward the door and rolled through before it closed behind. 

                “Out of this world?  Really.”  Jamie laughed at the closed door.  She approached her husband and gave him a strong kiss.  “Thank you.  It’s everything I ever dreamed, and, in this gravity, I don’t feel any aches or pains at all.”

                “I’m so glad you like it.  Were you surprised for a change?”

                “Oh, you got me this time.  I had no idea.  I still don’t know how you paid for it.”

                “And you promised you wouldn’t ask.  I’m going to hold you to that.”  He smiled down at her feeling supremely pleased with himself for managing to pull off the gift.  It took three years of planning and careful investing with a private account to make it happen.  Even then he had to cash in multiple favors to get his place on the list and ensure the trip would happen for her birthday.  As her arthritis back pain had gotten worse over the previous year, he was concerned that she would not pass the medical clearance for the trip. 

                “You’ll eventually have to tell me, but for now I’ll just accept it.  This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

                “Just wait tonight we’re scheduled for zero-g dancing in the Zero-G Hub Ballroom.”  The central axis pillar of the station did not rotate like the rings to allow for sections that did not have gravity.  He braced himself as she hugged him tightly, but still unadjusted to the lower gravity they ended up falling backwards towards the bed.  When she kissed him, and he saw the look in her eyes, he realized that it might not have been an accident after all. 

                She smiled at him before looking up at the ceiling.  “Computer lights off.”

Fiction Fragment Friday

I love this story. While it started as a desire to explore the concept of immortality in regards to food preferences it quickly became a character profile. I realized this character had potential and thus he became part of a larger world in my head. This is his backstory, but it is far from the end of his tale. I hope you can enjoy this for what it is, but also understand that it is fleshing out a supporting character in something yet to come.

               If you live long enough you will see everything you believed to be true questioned.  Within the span of one human lifetime technology, changes in societal norms, and basic construction projects will drive home the idea that everything changes.  Imagine what a lifespan counted in centuries can challenge.  Things once thought to be the purview of only those with magic are now acts of technology taken for granted.  Is it any wonder magic has faded from this world when technology can do so much of what it was relied on more efficiently and without the immediate cost.  Do not imagine that technology does not have its own cost, but a cost less immediate to a future generation might as well be no cost at all for most. 

               When I was a child food availability was never a guarantee.  How well you ate was dependent on your skill at hunting or the yield of crops for those inclined to farm.  I was never so inclined but have yet to meet my true rival in hunting among anything that walks on two legs.  There are ways of preserving meat even in the wilds, but a freshly cooked meal would always taste the best.  In villages you could find spices, vegetables, and foraged berries.  I never fit in with those that lived in villages though, but in those days, there were enough wilds for that to not be a problem.  Besides villages came with people and they would inevitably find their way into your head until you cared about them only to die.  Most decades I preferred the pain of loneliness to the pain of loss.  Both were unavoidable though.

               The journey of food was truly a marvel to witness.  In what I call the beginning food was something eaten to survive.  The flavors were simple, ingredients few, and options limited.  As people settled the options became wider and spices easier to obtain.  Techniques were developed and taught.  While most anyone could cook, the preparation of meals for enjoyment became more specialized.  The plants grown were bred for appearance as well as traits.  There are foods now such as carrots that I would not have recognized.  They used to be white, bitter, and grew in out of control forking shapes.  The modern orange sweet carrot is nothing like it.  Despite being what I was familiar with for longer some things just got better.  Other lost tastes I find myself craving without an outlet.

               With technology providing for a global supply chain and dissemination of ingredients around the world I feel that food reached its golden age.  Dishes long denied me by distance could not be had from chefs with skill far greater than my own.  New recipes were being crafted for local tastes but inspired by distant lands.  The publishing and television broadcast industry brought techniques that once required apprenticeship to learn right into anyone’s home.  Along with the other comforts provided it was enough for me to overcome my distaste of being around other people and leave my wilds for the dangers of civilization.  I tried to steel my heart against the pains of inevitable loss, but of course it did come frequently.  I told myself that the benefits of the knowledge I gained was worth the price I had to pay. 

               Like all things this golden age could not last.  The selective breeding of both animals and produce led to a more homogenous nature of ingredients.  The flavors became more consistent but, in some cases, muted.  I was running my own restaurant and proud of the recipes that I had crafted over what would be multiple lifetimes for others.  My regulars soon became less frequent as chains moved in providing food that was not better but was much faster.  Trips to the grocery store assaulted my eyes with brightly colored mascots and ingredients that sounded more like scientific formulas.  Speed and quantity were language of the day, and I just could not compete.  The loss I felt for my restaurant dwarfed any I had felt for friends or lovers in my long life. 

My restaurant was something I put myself into and became part of my identity.  In fact, it outlived two of my identities.  Never had I stayed in one area and became my own offspring, but I did so to hold onto the first thing that had truly mattered to me in centuries.  Normally I would create brand new identities and travel to new locations, but here I was a third-generation owner accepting the flattery of my customers telling me how much I looked like my father.  I avoided hanging any photographs of myself on the walls in hopes of preventing the question of why there were not with my father or grandfather.  I knew it couldn’t last forever, but when I locked the door for the final time I wept.  The decade of depression that followed was my worst and during this time, I gave up on cooking and allowed myself to embrace the fast-food industry that had steamrolled over my dream.

               I watched the world in a dissociated manor as science redefined the universe around us.  My long life is still a mystery to me.  I do not know if I am immortal or just aging far slower than everyone around me.  Nor do I know why this is the case.  Advancements in DNA genome sequencing and cloning made me wonder if whatever had kept me alive could be based in science and could be recreated.  I had always assumed it was some form of magic, but if it was not then perhaps another like me could exist.  I feared being dissected and studied though so keeping my secret became even more important. 

               For the first time in my long life a new technology brought me hope of no longer being alone.  In the beginning I had no interest in computers.  Despite seeing how technology was changing the world so quickly I just didn’t see the use in them.  I could not comprehend how they would be anything more than a toy for those with more technologically inclined proclivities than myself.  The internet though changed that.  Suddenly people all over the world were communicating directly with each other.  The world had always seemed so big to me.  I had always wondered if there were any others like myself out there hiding, but never imagined being able to find them.  Now with the internet it felt possible. 

               My passions for food and hunting were reignited upon finding communities online of like-minded individuals.  At first it was wonderful discussing flavors and techniques.  Soon though as so often happens with people factions started to form.  There were arguments with people claiming opinions as absolute fact.  So many fell into the fads of the day without having the perspective of time to show how quickly these prevailing opinions could change.  Repeatedly I watched places that had started to feel like a home fall apart once again to petty squabbles.  I truly wondered if there was anything that could not be ruined by other people.

               When I reached what felt like a new low, I was debating a return to what little remains wild in this world.  A lifestyle that I once embraced now looked harder to step back into.  I had only had air conditioning for the past forty years, but my body had become accustomed to it, and I struggled with heat that once was a daily companion.  I enjoyed hunting trips, but quickly found myself longing for the comforts that I had become so accustomed it.  Giving up the internet would have also meant giving up the search for others that seemingly could not die.  In the end I did not find others like myself, they found me.

               One morning I received an e-mail with photo attachments of myself over the past century.  It contained information on my past identities going back another century prior to that.  I had no idea how anyone could have gathered this much information about me, but quickly learned just how connected my people were.  They think of themselves as the shepherds of humanity.  The letter explained that they had been observing me for quite a while and felt that I was finally ready to be brought into the fold.  I was excited by the prospect of meeting others like myself, but there was an undertone to their letter that concerned me.  A sense of superiority that I have experienced far too often in my long life.

               That is how I found myself in St. Louis Missouri under a new identity.  Despite my extensive knowledge of magic, I have very little aptitude for it.  Even my meager abilities though were more than enough to sense shifting energies converging in major conflict.  In the past I would have avoided the region entirely. Now that I know my people are out there looking for me, I need to make allies and what I sensed will be like a beacon for those with power.  The only question remaining is if my experience will help me choose wisely or my pain will deliver me to my doom.                                

Fiction Fragment Friday

Some weeks the story I share is one that I wrote just because I have dedicated myself to writing something new and sharing it each week. This is not one of those weeks. I decided to write this story early in the week and it was one that I felt I needed to write. I am sharing it here because this is my outlet for these short stories, but it was written because I wanted to write it.

I feel that these type of stories that I feel called to write are stronger first drafts that the stories that I just write to keep writing something new. That of course is just a matter of opinion, but they mean more to me.

                As I stepped out the front door of my childhood home for the last time the memories overwhelmed me.  I don’t mean that in some esoteric way either.  Something in my cortical implant malfunctioned at that exact moment flooding me with replays of memories not one at a time, but all at once.  A lifetime of memories that some unknowable algorithm determined were worth permanently saving without any input from me on relevance. 

                All my senses were assaulted by conflicting stimuli.  I experience being three and running into the living room on Christmas morning to see what gifts were waiting.  The flashing lights on the Christmas tree draws my attention.  I can smell bacon cooking in the kitchen from my bed years later.  I hear myself screaming at my father as a teenager angry at the world.  I taste my high school girlfriend’s breath mint as we kiss. Finally, I feel how frail my elderly mother’s arms are as I try to help her up from a fall.  Each sense is replaced by another as quickly as it hits me.

                My head felt like it was going to burst open.  The human brain is not made to handle simultaneous memories.  I tried to focus on individual moments to slow the feedback.  I focused on my first dog and how he showed me that animals didn’t have to be scary.  He was at the same time young and hyper and old and infirmed.  Each memory felt like a double-edged blade cutting me deeply as I grasped to keep them but had to acknowledge that those moments are past.  Each moment that I could pull strength from was followed by another pain as I lost anything I tried to hold onto. 

                Physical pain cut through the other sensations.  I had collapsed to the floor hitting hard without any way to lessen the impact.  Normally I avoid pain, but this time I yearned for it.  I tried to feel as much as I could because it cemented me in the moment instead of the past.  Pain was once again my companion and one I embraced like a lover.  I let the pain ground me as I rode out the mental attack. 

                When the memories finally faded, I took inventory of my state.  I was curled up on the floor with tears filling my eyes.  My legs were shaky and lacked enough strength to even stand up.  Blood ran down the side of my face mixing in with my tears. My head had busted open when it hit the floor.  The world still felt like it was spinning, and I couldn’t grasp a sense of balance.  A voice deep down inside me screamed to get up and move, but my body just wouldn’t respond.  I wasn’t even sure what was real at that moment. 

                Some unknown amount of time passed before I could finally sit up and compose myself.  The first thought that came to mind was a question.  Should I clean up the blood or just leave it for the person buying the house to deal with?  The second thought was to wonder if there was something wrong with me that I would be more concerned about a mess than my own physical wellbeing.  If my cortical implant had failed in a more precarious moment like while I was on the stairs I could have died.  Since I didn’t fully understand the device in my own head I didn’t know if it really was ok now or if it could happen again. 

                I looked around the room again thinking about all the memories I had just experienced.  Why were these the ones that the algorithm deemed important enough for permanent storage?  What about all the simpler moments just spending time with my family or relaxing with a good book?  The implant had chosen to remember those moments, but some of them I would have rather forgotten.  In time you either focus on the good memories or the bad and years blend together being shaded by those memories.  I wanted the good, but each good moment was fleeting and something that would soon pass.  I knew that the painful moments passed as well, but seeing them right after the good had poisoned my memories of them. 

                As soon as the strength returned to me, I forced myself to my feet.  It was still difficult to focus, but I was going into fight or flight mode.  There was nothing there to fight so I needed to put some distance between myself and that experience.  I finally finished what I had been trying to do and stepped out the frond door pulling it shut behind me.  I struggled to my car and got in staring out the front windshield at the house.  So much of my life had occurred in that house, but I had moved on decades ago.  It was not my home anymore, but the thought of never seeing it again was hard to accept. 

                “Home,” I said to my car’s AI.  I had named my car after a car from a TV show I watched with my parents as a kid.  I remembered all those moments, but I couldn’t even remember a name that had stuck with me into adulthood in that moment.  I remembered having a talking battery powered version of the car and driving it around the very driveway I was currently sitting in.  Why didn’t I have any images of it in my trip down memory lane?  Because you can’t choose what memories get saved.  You just have to live with the ones you have. 

                 As my car backed out of the driveway I took my last look at the house.  With it in my rearview mirror I opened up the browser in the car and logged into my healthcare page.  I needed to make an appointment to have the implant looked at.  In that moment I didn’t trust using it to look anything up.  I didn’t want the implant doing anything other than the basic authentications needed to start my car and unlock my door when I got home.  If I could have turned it off in that moment I would have, but things in your head cannot be turned off.  You just have to live with them.                       

Fiction Fragment Friday

One of the most important parts of writing a story is determining where to start it. If you start it early then it takes too long to get to the important parts. If you start it too late your readers feel like they have missed something. In this case I had a scene I wanted to describe so I picked my starting moment right at that scene. Unfortunately by doing so I realized that I was starting far too early and this story is actually just a prequal to the story people would really want to read.

I’m not sure if this scene is important to a much larger story or just something I needed to write to flesh out the characters for the story that I should have actually written.

                Two months of intensive conditioning, training, and preparation was not nearly enough to prepare for the moment of launch.  The voices of mission control coming through my headset were completely drowned out by the roar of the engines igniting.  I tried to bring my arms up to grab my restraints, but I couldn’t move them.  My chest hurt as I gasped for breath trying to push down a panic attack.  Nothing in my life has ever compared to that moment and I hope I never go through anything like it again. 

                Everything inside the command module vibrated and rattled.  I was simultaneously smashed into my chair and being violently shaken.  I fought back the nausea knowing if I vomited it would be forced back down my throat.   The real astronauts would also never let me live that down.  Thoughts of the ship ripping apart from the reverberation filled my head.  I was a scientist and had no business going into space. 

                I have no idea how long that first stage of launch was, but it felt like an eternity.  Finally, the pressure lessened enough for me to grab onto my restraints and hold tight.  That was when the second phase rockets ignited.  I was once again shoved back into my seat, but the force was not nearly as bad as the previous stage.  After a few more minutes I experienced weightlessness for the first time.  I could even hear the rest of the crew reporting back to ground control through the communication system. 

                “Hey doc how you holding up?”  It took me a moment to realize Commander Henderson was talking to me.  He was floating a few feet in front of me with a look of concern on his face. 

                “That was the single most terrifying thing I have ever experienced.  You’ve been to space before and still chose to do it again?”

                He laughed.  “Just wait until reentry.”

                “You’re kidding right?  Right?”  I don’t think he was kidding.  At that point though we had a whole mission ahead of us and no guarantee that we would be returning.  Two years ago, I made a discovery that would change my life forever.  Something was coming into the solar system and would be passing close to Earth.  I thought it was an asteroid at first, but as I ran the math and did radio telescope tests it became obvious the object was not natural.  Before I knew it, I was in a small room being threatened by men in black suits.  If I said a word to anyone about what I discovered, they would never find my body. 

                “Ok doc we’re going to be in orbit for twenty-four hours before performing the slingshot move around the moon.  At that point we will be further from Earth than anyone has ever been before.  Not that anyone will ever know.” 

                “Missions don’t really get more classified than this do they?”

                “Nope.  I’m betting this mission is going to have a lot of firsts, but then again if not, we would never know.”

                I laughed and felt a bit more relaxed for the first time in days.  In a week we would be boarding what all my tests seemed to suggest was a derelict spacecraft.  We would only have a few hours to find a way onboard, study everything, and attempt what little salvage we could fit in the command module.  Any longer and we would be too far from Earth to return.  There were more ways this mission could go wrong than I could begin to imagine and if it did, we would be completely on our own. 

                I couldn’t help but wonder what they would tell my friends and family if I never returned.  The cover story for the last few months had been a consulting contract with NASA.  In reality NASA didn’t have a high enough clearance to know the truth behind our mission.  There were less than twenty people on the planet who knew the whole truth.  Four fewer with us in space. 

                “So, Commander Henderson any new ideas on how to get inside if we can’t cut our way through the hull?”

                “Sorry doc that’s your department.  We’re just your ride.”

                “Do I need to remind you that you have a doctorate in Mechanical Engineering and two master’s degrees yourself?  We aren’t even the only two with doctorates on this mission.”

                He just smiled back at me.  “That may be true, but I didn’t find an alien spaceship.  Your ship your problem.” 

                “Ah, but we are on your ship right now.  I’m betting you have an idea or two.” 

                “Nope, but we’ve got two weeks to figure something out.”    

Fiction Fragment Friday

I never imaged I would write a sequel to Pitch Meeting, but it seemed the perfect way to work through some thoughts I was having. I have been reading Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing. It is a book collecting essays he wrote about writing, what it meant to him, and where his inspirations came from. The book has been really speaking to me and reminding me what I enjoy about writing.

Since the author in Pitch Meeting is already a veiled version of myself and a way to express my own writing insecurities he seemed to be the perfect way to explore my realizations. I write to see where a story goes or to explore how I really feel about concepts. That is something I forget at times. When a story works and really flows there is nothing quite like it.

                “That’s great Jimmy.  So how does it end?”  I had just finished pitching the next book in my Benjamin Everhart urban fantasy series and I could hear the excitement in my agent’s voice.  After my last novel was a critical flop and I had tried to pitch him a book about a necromancer fashion designer I really couldn’t blame him for being excited. 

                “Oh, that’s the best part Evan.  I have no idea.”  I shrugged my shoulders and held my hands up, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.  He on the other hand was not smiling.  This time I had given in and flown out to meet with him in person.  I had been putting him off too long and I really did owe him for everything he had done over the years. 

                “You have no idea?”

                “None whatsoever.”

                “How in the world is that a good thing?  You’ve been pushing this book off for years now leaving your fans frustrated and you have no idea how it is going to end?”  Evan Brooks prided himself on being in control of his emotions.  The man could keep his tone neutral in situations that would have me screaming.  Over the past few years though I think I had really pushed that control to its limit and looking at me in the face he couldn’t keep from raising his voice.  I watched his expression return to something more composed before he continued.  “Ok James please explain why that is the best part.”

                He called me James instead of Jimmy.  That was not a good sign.  I had planned on having a bit of fun with the conversation, but that made me rethink my entire approach.  “It’s the best part because I’m excited to find out.  I’m already twenty thousand words into my first draft and it is just flowing.”  I had been dreading this novel because I had written myself into a corner and self-doubt had me questioning if I was capable of writing the story that came next. 

                I could see that the muscles in his shoulders visibly relaxed when I mentioned my word count.  “Well, that’s a good start then.  How can you write the story if you don’t know how it ends though?  Usually when you pitch me you have it all outlined.”

                “That’s what has me so excited.  See early on when I was writing the series I barely outlined at all.  I would just sit at my laptop and put my characters in situations to see how they would react.  It’s only the last couple books of the series I have been adding all this structure and planning.  I’m getting back to basics.”  I let out an exasperated sound.  “It sounds like such woo-woo garbage when I say it like that.”

                “Nah Jimmy I, well no I don’t get it, but I’m not a writer I don’t have to get it.  If it works and gets you cranking out marketable books again be as woo-woo as you want.  Just make sure you can finish the book though.  I don’t want you getting seventy five percent in and getting stuck.”

                “I’m not going to lie and say that isn’t a possibility.  Usually what that means though is that I screwed up somewhere.  When that happens, I just jump back to where it was last smooth and drop everything after.  Sure, it hurts to lose a chapter or two, but it’s better than losing momentum.  Of course, you should plan on some extra time editing before you start your marketing push.”

                “After what you’ve been putting me through lately, I’m not talking to anyone about this thing until I see a first draft.  So, help me if there is a necromancer or a surfing vampire anywhere in that draft we are going to have words.”

                I sighed and slumped a bit in my chair.  The next part of the conversation was why I really wanted to do it in person.  It would also be the hardest part of the meeting.  “I’m sorry.  You’ve had my back for as long as I’ve known you and I haven’t been fair to you at all.  I’ve gone back on our deals, ignored your advice, and generally acted like a spoiled child.  So yeah, I’m sorry.”

                I did not expect to leave him speechless, but for a long moment we just sat there in silence.  “Look Jimmy if we’re getting all serious here then I just have one question.  Why?  Why have you been so difficult?  When we first started working together you were my best client.  Always so eager to hear what I had to say and cranking out books like crazy.  What changed?”

                “You have no idea how many times I’ve asked myself that exact question since our last phone call.  I realized some very hard truths about myself and had to admit that I lost my way.  I forgot why I enjoyed writing.  I also got scared that my best work was behind me.”

                “Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy…  Do you know what makes you different from most of my other clients?  Do you know why you are my favorite?”

                “Because I’m the one in your office right now?”

                His serious face broke for a moment, and he let out a chuckle.  “Ok, besides that.” 

                “No.”

                “I have worked with hundreds of authors over the years.  Most of them treat it as work.  They don’t actually want to write; they want to have written.  They enjoy having the story, talking about it, and the praise they get from it.  The actual process of writing though is just how they get to that.  You though, you’re different.  You seem to actually enjoy the act of writing, or you did at least.”

                “Writing a story is the only way I know how the story ends.”

                “See that’s what I mean.  You just approach this differently.  I’ve met plenty of authors like you, but I haven’t had the pleasure to represent very many of them.  They don’t light up when they talk about their ideas.” 

                The room started to get a bit blurry.  I’m sure it was just my allergies because there is no way my eyes were getting watery from just the conversation.  I gave myself a moment before speaking though just to get my thoughts together.  “Thank you.  That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

                “Well, the nicest in the last few years anyway.  Remember I read your book reviews.”

                “Yeah, I do to, and that was part of my problem.”

                “Look kid, you can’t let this stuff get to you.  Once it gets in your head it’s hard to get it back out.  I’ve seen writers crash and burn so many times after a little taste of success.  That’s why I’m so hard on you.  I don’t want that for you.”

                “Kid?  You do know I’m in my forties, right?”   

                “As long as I’m looking out for you, you will always be kid to me.  Come on, let’s get something to eat and you can tell me all about what you’ve got so far.  What do you say?”

                “I’d like that.”