Denver, Colorado
Friday, 23 November 2012
Cullen's Coffee Shop
11:47 am
"I don't understand," I murmur, running my hand through my hair, "I've sat in front of that computer every single day this week. It doesn't matter what idea I try to use; I write a sentence, edit the sentence and then I get rid of it because it's all terrible and I hate it."
Angela laughs, adjusting her glasses, "What are your ideas? You haven't told me yet."
"Well," I sigh, "There's the one about the greedy scuba diver who discovers a chest filled with diamonds and every time he brings one up, someone he knows dies. There's the one about the girl who grew up on an abandoned island, and the military pilot who crashes along the shore. And then there's the one with the marriage counselor who cannot save her own marriage. Oh, and then finally, there's the one that would involve a married couple living in the days of African slavery."
Her eyes are wide, "Those are all . . . very different."
I nod.
"But all very the same at the same time," she says, catching my attention.
"What do you mean?"
Angela's eyebrow raises questioningly, "Do you know anything about being a scuba diver? Or how to survive on limited resources? Or what a military pilot does? Do you know anything about being a therapist, about marriage at all? And how much do you know about being enslaved or owning slaves?"
Well . . . she's got a point there. "Okay," I admit, "But what do you suggest I do? I can't very well write about a struggling author who is lacking a love life and can count the amount of friends she has on one hand."
She laughs, "Why not?" she asks, "I would read that. So many people could relate to it, including myself."
"You're married," I disagree.
"I haven't always been. And it took me three years to write Only Human. And the only to people I can really call my friends are you and Ben."
I sit back in my chair and take a deep breath. "I don't really want to write about myself, though, Angela. My life is boring and I wouldn't even know what to write."
"I never said to write about yourself," she corrects, "I simply said to write what you know. Write about a girl like yourself, an aspiring author who doesn't know how to jump-start her career. Introduce her to a boy that she can fall in love with, who she'll make more friends through. Once you get to that point, the rest will come naturally to you."
That actually isn't a half-bad idea. "You know what?" I say, "I think I'll do that. If nothing else it will at least get me writing again."
Angela smiles, "See? I can be useful," she jokes.
I laugh with her.
We talk for a while longer before I excuse myself.
I have a story to write.
A/N:
This story does involve a bit of . . . magic, but not to the extent that it is just plain ridiculous. I promise I won't disappoint you guys by going too far!
Please let me know what you think of it so far in either a review or a private message.
Thank you!