we can't wait to find out what you're up to! post about your rendezvous in our comments or paste your blog link so we can be a fly on the wall wherever it is you treat your fave fictional friend! (500 words or less if you can. but who's counting?)
be sure to stick your nose in everyone else's business and click on all the links. don't miss out on any gossip as we glimpse the secret longings of our blogging friends.
wow. we're like the E! tv of blogland. (whoa! who's her new bff? she's dating who? did you see what her date was eating? ewww...!)
|this is you...in a comfortable spot on the wall|
LIGHTS. CAMERA. ACTION.
Nervous didn’t begin to explain my sweaty palms and quivering knees.
I stood, hoping my pounding heart wouldn’t be heard by Dawn, my MC, who was just down the hall. How would I explain who I was, a stranger in her bedroom? Ridiculous, since I’m the writer who created her. If I didn’t want her to enter, she wouldn’t. (But, do you know how sometimes when you’re writing your characters kind of take over? Anyway, I’m determined to stay in control of my own story here. Just this once.)
So, I stood there staring up at the ceiling, waiting for Phinnighen, my date for the evening, to materialize. He was somewhere in Themura, the alternate dimension I’d dreamed up as one of the settings in my novel, Solstice. I waited here in Earth, in Wisconsin, wondering why I hadn’t chosen his dimension to meet in. (Too late now. )
Dawn’s room was dimly lit, with only her bedside table lamp on. I didn’t have to wait long until a handsome guy of 5’10”ish or so appeared. Wow, he looked a lot taller than he did on paper. ( I guess I’ll need to add to his description in the novel.) I was kind of in awe of my creation. His shimmery bronze aura really did cling to him. Just like I’d written. I wondered how he and I could eat out without attracting all sorts of attention. I mean, he kind of glowed. Hmmm…well, I guess we’d just have to go to a dark, candle-lit restaurant for our chat. Now my whole body quivered. His eyes alone made me swoon a little. Again, I reminded myself to get a grip. This was, after all, just a “business” meeting, for research.
I grabbed his hand and he kind of gloated as the frigid tingling sensation travelled through my limbs to my core. However he did it, (hence the meeting to discuss details) he transported us to Pasta Vino where we sat at a corner table. There was no one around. I took an easy breath and sat back, arms folded, and smiled at my date. I couldn’t figure out how Dawn wasn’t attracted to him in the least. Huh.
“So…Mrs. West, you wanted to, uh, talk?”
“You can call me Lynnea…well, actually, it’s Christy.” (Pen names. I never know quite who I want to go by. A little bit of an identity crisis.)
It had crossed my mind that it might look kind of odd, me out with him, since besides the fact that he has this shimmering aura thing, well, I’m double his age. And, well, the candle lit restaurant was my only option, right? I wasn’t just trying to relive my youth. (No, that’s not why I write YA!)
“Okay.” He looked uncomfortable.
“Yes, well. I wanted to ask you a few things, but what would you like to eat, before we get started?” A waiter appeared out of nowhere. He kind of resembled the short balding penguin-like guy on the Munsters. Phin just looked at me, bewildered. “What’s the problem?”
“Well, I don’t know what I eat. You’ve never actually fed me anything…in 116,000 words. You never fed me a bite.” He sounded kind of hostile.
“You’re not in all of those words, really.” I tried to redeem myself. “Only a few chapters. There wasn’t really time. I just figured you ate when you weren’t, uh, involved.”
“Involved? I played a major role in the resolution of your plot! You couldn’t let me even taste any Themuran food?” He sat back and folded his arms, challenging me. “I’ll bet you don’t even know what Themurans eat. Do you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You were a lot nicer in the pages I wrote. Besides, that’s why I’m taking you out. To learn more about Themura. I was hoping you could help me.”
“Yeah, right. I can see the words up above. You think I’m hot. That’s gross, Mrs. West. Or whoever you feel like being right now.”
This was not going as expected. I felt crushed, horrified, mortified. Clearly, a writer is not meant to join the pages of her own book. I really liked this kid. If I ever get to the point where I can revise the end of my novel, if I ever find a version of the beginning that’s good enough, I hope I can like him again after his rudeness to me this evening.
I tipped the waiter and walked home. Well, actually, I called my husband because I wasn’t sure I could make it several hours on foot. Even if I am a marathon runner.
Don’t forget to sign up for our competition of words! Starts next Thursday! I may have cheated and gone over in this post, but I promise not to cheat when I "write in". When I win the medal and t-shirt and whatever else we offer up…it’ll be fair and square!!!
seacrest out. we mean erica and christy out. we got a little carried away. there's a first time for everything.