The Blue Notebook

The blinking cursor stared at him from his computer screen, mocking him. Every time it appeared felt like an order. Write, write, write… The blank page on the notebook next to him wasn't helping, either. He liked to have it close by, so he could switch back to pen and paper if he was in a more traditional mood.

Castle had been racking his brain for days trying to come up with something, anything, that could help him make some progress on his latest book. Writer's block was generally a battle he could win easily- after a good amount of goofing off and procrastinating, of course- but this time, the war had been going on far too long, and unfortunately, Castle was losing. One entire week had passed without writing a single word. Usually, that was the time he allowed himself before going to plan B, which consisted of… more writing.

He was a writer. He needed to write; needed that rush that came when the words began to piece themselves together into intricately woven phrases and paragraphs on the page before his eyes, even if his intentions were only to distract himself from reality. Sometimes, in order to be more productive with what he was supposed to be writing, he needed to take a step back and write something that wasn't directly related to his novels. Over the years, he had written hundreds of letters, short stories, and drabbles. Some were good; most of them weren't. But the quality didn't matter, as long as he wrote.

His current problem, however, wasn't lack of inspiration. Since he met Kate Beckett, words had flowed freely from his brain, and even more so after they finally got married and he got to spend all of his time with her.

No, his issue this time was how completely bored his own book was making him. It was always the same process- he came up with an idea, developed it, and drafted it. Then, when all the pieces were in place, he started to write the narrative, embellishing it with details to give the stories that depth that made them "book material," as Gina put it. That was the hardest part for him, because it soon turned into routine, almost a chore: reading and rereading his own words, reworking and rearranging them, to complete the puzzle. Over time, the process lost that creative quality, which was the most attractive thing about writing to him.

Usually, his bouts of writer's block coincided with the pressure from Black Pawn to finish the book in question as soon as possible, which created a new source of stress for Castle. And he loathed feeling rushed. He wrote to feel free and invincible, not to be a machine that produced one or two books per year, full of content but devoid of feeling and passion.

And that's why he had his blue notebook. It was filled with writings that he'd never dare to send to Black Pawn to be published; things that were meant for his eyes only. At first, he'd simply written character sketches, describing their physical attributes and qualities in addition to outlining their backstories. Eventually, he stopped outlining and started writing everything out as if it were a story, making his characters live new adventures and building a whole new world for them.

Some of those stories were really short; just glimpses of Nikki's life, hopes, and dreams. Others were longer, like the ones relating the adventures of Jameson Rook as a war journalist, for example. He could write whatever he wanted in this notebook; anything about Nikki, Rook, or his other characters that would help him understand them better.

The genre of his short stories varied, depending on his mood as he was writing. As a result, snippets of Nook's (he loved that shipper name) domestic life were tangled with epic tales of the detective's -and her tag-along's- heroism.

Castle finally realized that he didn't want to keep these stories to himself; yes, they weren't things that Black Pawn would publish, nor were they important to the plots of his novels, but they would help his readers better understand his characters nonetheless. So he created a profile on a website meant for sharing fan-written stories- under a pseudonym, of course- and began to publish them. The proper term for that was "fanfiction." He wasn't a fan, per se, but, given that he was completely anonymous on the site, no one would ever know the profile belonged to him.

That night, in the fanfiction universe, Nikki and Rook, along with Roach, were investigating a mafia ring- a thrilling case complete with extortion, death threats, and a little bit of romance. In the end, they were able to ruse the mobster by making him believe that one of his "business associates" was speaking with the cops.

Satisfied with the ending, he published the story and went to make dinner, placing his phone on the counter next to him. Soon enough, its screen soon lit up with a review alert. That was his favorite part- the responses from his readers. When he published a novel, he got reviews from publishing companies, newspapers, reporters, and the like, but he never got direct responses from his readers like he did with his fanfiction, and their reactions were always fun to see. Sometimes, readers complimented him for his "authenticity," claiming that he sounded "just like Castle himself," which never failed to make him smile like a lunatic. Other times, they only gave him a handful of words, but he enjoyed that just as much.

However, some of the readers took the time to leave a message debating his plot choices and the characters' actions. Those were by far his favorite reviews. There was one reader in particular, who went by the username LadySackett, who was often harsh with him, but in a challenging way. She (at least he assumed it was a she, because of the nickname) always had something interesting to say about his approach on the cases and Nikki's inner thoughts, and it was delightful to chat with her. They had established a playful banter over the years, with him teasing her about being a fan, and her saying that he had too much ego for someone who didn't make a profit with his writing. It was all playful, though, and they didn't even know each other's names.

As usual, hers was the one of the first reviews to arrive. He stirred the pasta sauce as he read it, and couldn't help but chuckle.

"Only you could have thought of something that cliché and make it sound genius."

He debated as to whether to reply to her or not, but ultimately decided that making dinner for his wife should be his priority for now. Kate had just texted him to say she was on her way home, her cab caught up in rush hour traffic, and asked him about his writing. In all honesty, he couldn't say that he had made any progress, but at least he didn't feel smothered anymore.

Writing was his favorite form of therapy.

The next morning, he managed to write a solid chapter, so he saw no harm in joining his wife at the precinct for a couple of hours. The case they were investigating was a complicated one. The Irish mafia was involved, and it was always hell to make them talk. Thinking about the story he wrote the day before, he decided to suggest the same strategy Nikki had followed, only to be interrupted by Beckett.

"Maybe we could make Flannagan think that McEneany is talking to us." When she saw the raised brows of her coworkers, she shrugged. "Cliché, I know, but it could be-"

"Genius," Castle finished for her, without thinking.

That expression sounded familiar. Where had he heard that before? Wait… Was she really…? Could it be…? His eyes lit up with his realization.

Kate Beckett was LadySackett. His favorite reviewer was none other than his wife.

"No," he said in a low voice. "It's not possible…" He had to laugh at such a coincidence. The universe had a sense of humor, after all. He should had known. He knew there was something familiar about her!

He scanned Beckett's face for any sign of recognition, and saw her furrowed brow that must be matching his own. He observed her intently, until she snapped at him. "Castle! What's gotten into you?"

He shook his head, deciding that now wasn't the best time to share his discovery. Beckett let it go, thankfully, focusing back on the whiteboard and ignoring Ryan and Espo's inquisitive looks.

Castle stood there, looking at the board without registering any detail, trying to come up with the perfect way to reveal his double identity to Beckett, until an idea came to mind. One thing was for sure: she would never hear the end of this.

That night, when Beckett climbed into bed, a blue notebook adorned with a ribbon rested on her pillow, along with a note.

"To LadySackett, with all my love.

Because a handful of books could never begin to express

how much you have inspired me.

- RookieWriter"

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