He must be off his rocker. He knows this because this is one of the most lame-brained, bubble-headed, idiotic, scatterbrained, dumbest ideas he has ever had! But on the other hand, it could be the sanest thing he has ever done to save his career.
He finally grew a pair and told his ex-wife and now publisher that he did not think that writing Derek Storm was that productive for him anymore, and on the last page in the last chapter of the last book in the series, Derek Storm met a perilous and final end. To say that she was pissed off would be an understatement.
He recalls the conversation in his head, the one that they had at the launch party, well the one where he mostly listened and she demanded as she usually did…
"What kind of idiot kills off their main character?"
"Are you asking as my blood-sucking publisher or my blood-sucking ex-wife?"
"Oh, is that what you're doing? Punishing me by killing the golden goose?"
"Oh, come on. I may be petty and shortsighted, But I'm not that petty and shortsighted."
"Really Rick? Then why?"
"Writing Derrick used to be fun. Now it's like work."
"Mmhmm. God forbid you should work. I mean, you could have retired him, you could have crippled him. You could have had him join the friggin' circus. But, no, you had to put a bullet through his head."
"Yeah, and it was really messy, too. Big exit wound. Don't worry. Derrick Storm is not the golden goose here. I am! I wrote half a dozen bestsellers before him. What makes you think I'm gonna stop now?"
"Oh, I don't know. The fact the outline for the new book was due nine weeks ago?"
"You can't rush genius."
"Genius, Richard? Try blockage. I heard you haven't written in months."
"That's ridiculous."
"My sources are very reliable."
"Well, they're wrong."
"They better be."
"If I don't have a new outline for a manuscript on my desk in the next three weeks, Black Pawn is prepared to demand the return of your advance."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Try me. Just try me." She said vindictively.
"You know, I already returned that advance. I spent it divorcing you."
He knew he was playing with fire but the fact that his ex-wife had demanded that he return his advance for the book that he was supposed to be writing made it real now. The date to give her at least a working title and a rough outline had come and gone. It's just that he could only sit in front of his computer for so long watching the cursor mock him. What he needed was some time to think about how to get around his current bout of writer's block. Truth be told he wasn't killing off Derek Storm because he had seen it all and done it all, no it was the fact that it became the same story day in and day out. It was just that he couldn't think of anything new to write for the character. So he did the next best thing and put a bullet through his head. This way there will be no coming back for him.
He decided he needed to get away for a while, well at least until his publisher could track him down demanding either a draft for the first couple of chapters of the new story he promised or the return of the advance that she gave to him four months ago. He had been everywhere he could imagine in the United States. He also had been to most of Europe. So now he set his sights on something new.
Leaving the blinking cursor to blink, he slammed down the laptop lid and walked over to his wet bar. He threw two ice cubes into a tumbler and added three fingers of his best Glenlivet. He swirled the glass and took a sip relishing the burn as it slid down his throat. He walked over to the ceiling to floor window and gazed out upon the city he lives in.
She woke up with a start after hearing a loud noise. Looking over at her nightstand where the digital clock sits she can see that it's close to 1:15 in the morning. She knew that her father was having problems with his writing but there was nothing much that she could do to get him through what he was dealing with. She throws the comforter off her body, gets up, and walks to the end of her bed where she grabs her robe, puts it on, and sashes it tightly around her waist. As she slowly makes her way down the stairs she can tell that the security alarm is set so he must be home and that's what she heard earlier. She ventures further down the stairway and sees him standing in his office just staring out the window. She cautiously walks toward him making sure that she doesn't startle him.
"Dad?" She asks cautiously.
Rick was so deep in thought that he didn't even hear his own daughter call out his name. It took a good thirty seconds before he turned and saw her standing there with a questioning look on her face.
"Pumpkin? What's wrong?"
"I heard a loud noise and it woke me up. Are you okay?"
"I am sweetheart. It's nothing I promise."
His daughter could always read anyone she met with precision. At times it was scary. She was emotionally invested in the needs of her friends or anyone she knew who needed her help. To his thinking, this was a trait he admired. But if she was ever taken advantage of because of her kindness he wouldn't know what to do to help her.
"Dad, it's me. Don't tell me it's nothing. I can see the worry all over your face!"
She had him there. So he decided to tell her what was going through his head hoping that his fifteen-year-old daughter would understand.
"Alexis, I am having a hard time writing anything since I killed off Storm. I have tried to get motivated but there is just something missing. I can't seem to get any kind of idea to work. I've tried everything but nothing works."
"Dad, don't take your writing so seriously. What I mean to say is why not just have fun with what you know how to do. Write something that doesn't make any sense at all and see where it brings you. You never know, maybe that might be able to get you out of the funk that you're in."
Rick thought to himself and decided that she was right. He didn't have to write anything on the deadline even though the outline for his current book was four months overdue but that didn't matter because if he could find a way to write something that didn't make any sense it might loosen up his ability to write something serious.
"Alexis, I was thinking that in addition to writing something that's just plain old silly we could take a short trip somewhere."
"That sounds like it could be fun, dad. But it would have to wait until the weekend because I have finals this week. Today is only Tuesday so can you hang on until Friday?" She asks.
"I think I can. In the meantime, I will look up some fun places we can visit."
"That's great dad so if there's nothing else I'm going to head back to bed."
"Sweet dreams pumpkin."
Alexis turns and heads back to bed. Within minutes of getting comfortable, she is fast asleep.
He thought getting a head start on places to visit was a good idea and while he wanted to do just that he thought about what his daughter had said. Write something silly or fun. Knowing that he was old school he had pulled out his writing pad and a Montblanc pen. This pen was special to him not only for the cost he spent to purchase it, but it was one of three pens he had bought with his first royalty check. When he meant old school this pen had it in spades. It was a John F. Kennedy commemorative special edition fountain pen. This pen joined the other two inspired by the Beatles and Walt Disney. He sits at his desk giving his new laptop a glare and moves it away from the blotter.
His mind immediately draws a blank as he sits there with his pen at the ready. But as his mind wanders he is brought back to his college days. He remembers when he and Kyra had an argument about the Greek muses. He defended them and she opposed them. He always told her that Calliope was the muse of poem writing and Rick defended his muse because whether he was a writer or poem writer she could guide him. Kyra disagreed with his assessment. Muses were simply a figment of anyone's imagination. They had no power to guide you through anything.
Rick finishes the last of his Glenlivet and pushes the tablet to the side. Writing something that doesn't make any sense won't do him any good. He thinks about pulling his laptop back to where he can use it to write or surf but he decides against it. There will be time for what he will want to do tomorrow. Rick takes the empty glass and moved back to the kitchen to drop it in the dishwasher. Knowing that it's close to 3:30 in the morning he decides to get some sleep. Tomorrow or actually later today will be something he would deal with later.
He knows that today is Friday and he wakes with a start. After only getting about four hours of sleep he pushes himself to the edge of the bed. Then it hits him. He has to get Alexis ready for school. He knows she is pretty self-sufficient but he likes to be there in order to make sure that she has everything she needs before she leaves the loft. He's out of bed and throws a robe over his boxers and rushes out of his bedroom through his office. What he sees next is nothing that he expected. The loft is completely empty. His mother is nowhere to be found but that is probably because she is still with her latest flavor of the week. He's concerned because Alexis usually waits until he's up before she leaves for school. As he comes closer to the breakfast bar he sees a note written in Alexis's perfect penmanship.
Dad,
Left for school early to talk to the guidance counselor today. Hopefully, she will have some insight into the next courses that I am going to take if I am to graduate a year early.
Love you,
Alexis
He now realizes that his daughter is becoming her own woman and his guidance is not necessarily needed that much anymore. He hopes that this isn't the situation but the more he thinks about it the more that reality has already set in.
Knowing that Alexis is on campus he decides to try to write something, anything that will be acceptable to Black Pawn. He takes the note Alexis left him and folds it up placing it in his robe pocket. He walks over to the coffee maker that sits idle and brews ten cups of his favorite… Breakfast Blend. Once the pot is filled he takes his gargantuan twenty-ounce insulated cup and almost fills it with the contents of the pot. He adds milk and sweetener and walks back to his office.
He lifts the lid on his laptop and pulls up a new document. He takes a sip of his coffee, places it back down, and then places his fingers on the keyboard. His fingers sit there hovering over the keys for about thirty seconds before he withdraws them back. Once again his mind is blank.
He's never had a block that was this bad. He knows that it's all in his head but for the life of him he can't get it from his head to his hands. He stares at the screen and that's when he hears it. At first, he thinks it's something outside making the noise but all the windows are closed and there's no one here but himself.
You can do anything you put your mind to. Simply shut out everything around you and concentrate.
He hears this two or three times becoming less vocal as the voice repeats the phrase. By the last time he hears it, it's just barely a faint whisper. He thinks he's losing his mind. All of his procrastinating has finally caught up with him and now he's hearing voices in his head.
After about two hours he hears the front door to the loft open and close again. Having had the foresight to shower shave and get dressed into presentable clothing he watches his daughter as she walks into his office.
"Hi, pumpkin how was school? Were you able to talk to your guidance counselor today?"
"We talked. And if I have any dreams of graduating a year earlier I need to give up my two study halls. She suggested that I add an additional history class and an algebra with Calculus. This will give me the required credits to graduate in 3 years instead of 4."
"Alexis, you are aware that you are only halfway through your freshman year you do know that right?"
"Dad I know. But if I have any shot at making it into an Ivy League College I need to do this now. If I don't I'm just going to end up like you contemplating everything before I actually do something about it." She said with a very sassy smile.
"Oh, I see how it is. Comparing your old man to how your life could be. Let me tell you something missy I think we should settle this on the laser tag field of battle." Rick said while his eyebrows danced near his hairline.
Alexis dropped her book bag and took off to her room to don her laser tag gear. She would show him no mercy.
And just like that, the outline that Rick was supposed to be writing will now be put off for another day in order for him to get in a round of laser tag with his daughter.
The voice that had been so prevalent in his head less than 3 hours ago has now become an afterthought.
She looks down at where she tried to project her feelings to the writer in New York City. She knows she had him it's just a matter of time before he will actually listen to what she was saying to him. Granted she wasn't in front of him when she said it but she placed the voice in his head and she hoped he would take heed of her suggestion. She thinks he has the mentality of a nine-year-old. She sits back in her chair on the left side of her father and looks to him for guidance. She knows what he is going to tell her and she will take her lumps like every other Muse. Maybe she can make a difference…
A/N: Updates will be slow in coming due to work demands. But I will try to post every Sunday at my usual time. I hope you like where this will take us.