I tapped my pen against my fingers staring down at the blank journal in front of me. The only indicator that this was the third book to the series was the title, ‘Whatever comes next’ scribbled on the front of the journal. I glanced at the laptop sitting next to me only to reach out my right callused hand to click the button that would disconnect my laptop from the Wi-Fi. I felt as though a small weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Sometimes I wished I could go back when people didn’t know my name, where I could walk down the streets without people recognizing me. I didn’t put a picture of me on the books, I’ve only attended 2 interviews in the past 5 months and barely ever left the house.
But maybe that was the problem, I let them corner me like the only deer in a forest being tracked by all the hunters who wanted to take home a trophy.
I ran my hands down my face and rested my forehead against my entangled fingers to look down at the piece of lined paper in front of me.
“I’m thinking too hard.” I mumbled to myself. “You’ve thought of at least 20 ways to start this book, just pick one already.” I kept running my eyes along the paper like my thoughts would magically appear on the paper, but it seems that would be more work than just writing it down manually; with all my mixed thoughts who knows what would show up.
Just then the front door opened and I could hear the firm click of the door closing.
“I don’t want to, Linda.” Was my first response as my business manager walked into the threshold.
“What’s so bad about making your book into a movie?” Linda asked, crossing her arms and looking down at the exhausted Author in front of her. She reached up and took her blonde hair out of the perfect bun that she normally kept up.
“I read through their contracts, every single one. None of them seem right. Plus, they all just send me the offer over email and tell me to think about it. I don’t want to think about it, I’m tired of thinking,” I sighed and rubbed my temples. “I haven’t had a decent human conversation with anyone besides you since who knows how long.”
“I’m not going to take that as an insult and if you really wanna talk to someone, put down the pen. You write better with pencil anyways,” Linda placed her hands on the front of my desk and leaned over. “Chin up, Samantha, I got you another interview, there’s some human interaction.” She grabbed the blanket from the chair behind her and wrapped it around herself.
I looked up and gave Linda a playfully glare. “I said decent, not fake. I’m talking about off camera, one on one. Hell, even a small hey would be nice.” I leaned back in my chair and let my hands drop from my head. My right hand instinctively picked up the pen on the desk only to twirl it between my fingers. “Do you need me to turn up the heat?” I asked giving her a once over
“No, I won’t be here for long, and hey,” Linda said and sat down at one of the chairs in front of my desk.
“Hey.” I rocked back and forth in my chair tapping my pen against my desk.
“How are you?” Linda asked leaning back on her chair.
“Tired,” I mumbled, tossing my pen back down at the pad of paper.
“Writer’s block?” Linda questioned leaning over to see the blank pages.
“I know what I want to write, I know where I want to go in the story. But I just don’t know how I want to get there. Nothing seems right. You know this is the 2nd journal I’ve used up to try and start this book. I figured out a couple other story ideas along the way, but that doesn’t help with this one.” I tilted my head up to the ceiling.
“So, writer’s block.”
“Yes, writer’s block.” Rolling my shoulders and closing my eyes.
I could hear Linda standing up from the chair she had been sitting in and started heading for the door. Just before she opened the front door she called over her shoulder, “your interview is at noon on Thursday. That’s in two days, I’ll call you to remind you at 9. If you’re not up when I get here I’ll dump water on you. Have a goodnight.”
“I never agreed!” I yelled out to her but the door had already been slammed closed. Interviews weren’t all bad, it’s just the talking that I wasn’t a fan of. Normal conversation was fine but the minute you ask me a question with a camera pointed at me I seem to lose my train of thought; and my head never shuts up so its that’s a miracle in itself.
I stood from my seat and walked into the kitchen, going through the cabinets I realized I needed to go grocery shopping soon. It was just another thing I would have to add to the list. Food wasn’t my top priority, just thinking these words would have had my past self gasping. I remember when food was my life, it’s not like I ate excessively. But I used to bake, cook, fry, anything to do with food and I was there. But now like writing, food seems to be escaping from my mind.
Opening the fridge I looked down to see nothing appealing and closed it. Instead I grabbed an apple then some melatonin that I quickly took with me back over to my desk setting down the Apple and taking the melatonin with the glass of water sitting on my desk. When I sat down and was surrounded by the familiar feeling of the black leather I couldn’t help but start to drift to sleep.
Knock! knock! knock!
I was jilted from sleep and moved to stand but ended up falling on my butt. Trying to stand quickly I only fell again and knocked some papers from my desk. Reaching down to pick everything up and throwing it on the desk before making my way to the front door.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
It’s got to be Linda, no one else should know about this place.
“Did you forget your key?” I asked just barely loud enough for Linda to hear me. Just to double check I looked through the peephole.
It wasn’t Linda.
Opening my door just slightly I pulled out my phone from my back pocket and started calling Linda.
“Can I help you?” I asked the older man standing through the small gap. He looked to be in his 80′s he was short and had reading glasses on the tip of his nose.
“Hi. I’m Charles Darith. I wanted to talk about your book series.” The older man Charles smiled at me and I opened my door just slightly.
“Hello? Samantha? Hello?” I heard Linda’s voice through the phone and quickly put it to my ear.
“Hi, there’s this older gentleman here, says his name is Charles Darith.” I informed her and Charles rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Oh he’s a director, he came to talk to me a couple times to speak with you but I always told him you weren’t interested in making your show into a movie. I can call the cops if you-”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll hear him out...” I cut her off and opened my door a little more to let him in. “I’ll talk to you later.” I mumbled and she gave a small okay and ended the conversation. “Would you like to come in?”