‘No. Not me. I have a book to write.’ I groaned as the realisation swam over me again. I’d forgotten it for ten minutes while we were chatting.
‘You get on with that book, then. I have to go set up the dining room for dinner service.’
‘OK, sweet cheeks. Let’s do this again soon.’
‘Definitely.’
We blew kisses to each other and exited the call. My apartment was quiet apart from the conspicuous humming of my refrigerator as it struggled to keep my food cool.
I knew what I needed to do. I had to go fetch my notebook and open my edit letter file and my outlining file and startthinking.
But when I did all that, the thoughts, they did not come. I drummed my fingers on the edge of my keyboard, then rifled through my drawers for my sticky notes. Maybe if I broke the problems down and dealt with them one by one…
Chapter Eleven
Elle
An hour later, I had helped Daisy with an English assignment, played Animal Crossing with SamandDaisy, agreed to meet Alfie and Teddy for tacos this evening, and I had three pink Post-it Notes on my wall, which were the big issues my editor had flagged up. The bones of the book. All the problems she had with characters and consistency would depend on these main elements being fixed:
1) Up the stakes in the plot – make it more personal
2) Setting needs to be more integral to plot
3) More emotional investment in the love story
And then I had my own mirroring set of Post-its in blue, which showed the only flimsy ideas I’d had to fix things:
A) Love triangle
B) Bring James back and make sure readers realise why he is such a bastard & a Bad Idea
C) Move Charmaine home – make it more personal / linked to back-story?
So…two of those were basically the same. And they’d been Keisha’s idea. When did I start sucking at this?
I walked away from my desk and sprawled face down on the couch, burying my head in a cushion. It was one of those sequin-flip designs, so it was like nuzzling a serpent. The Vietnamese restaurant beneath my apartment was prepping to open for lunch. I could go there to have dumplings. I had worked enoughfor today, hadn’t I? It was early enough that I wouldn’t spoil my tacos.
No. I turned my face and took a deep breath, eyeing the Post-its on the wall again. I had to rediscover my love for this book. I had poured myself into this series of novels for the better part of a decade. Maybe it was that pressure that was getting to me. Maybe I needed to do what Beth had when she was getting all neurotic on the phone – focus on the bit that mattered. For her, it was whether she and Nick still felt good when they were together, and for me…it was about finding the excitement in writing again.
Beth had been right about me lighting up at the idea of a mystery to solve. I did love that. I always had done. Growing up with my dad as a detective, he’d talk to me about cases – highly censored until I was older – and ask me what I’d do. So, I’d always put figuring things out and making up stories together. I’d been approaching my books just as a writer recently, getting into a pattern. Maybe it was time to break the routine and rediscover my inner private eye?
I pushed myself up to sitting as a little nugget of inspiration formed in my mind. It was a crazy idea and he’d probably say no, but maybe I could offer to help Stephen on his missing person hunt? A real-life actual mystery – but without the danger and criminals (hopefully).
And — bonus — if hedidsay yes, then I’d definitely get the opportunity of having the last word. I just needed to bide my time.
I grabbed my cell phone and found his number, pressing call before I could talk myself out of it.
'Noelle,’ Stephen’s British accent purred into my ear. I could just picture him, the human equivalent of a smug Cheshire cat stroking his impressively long whiskers. And I knew he wascalling me Noelle just to annoy me. Yes, it’s my name, but I only use it for my books.
‘I see you still have my number saved in your cell.’ Two could play at the smugness game after all. This was going to be fun. He probably thought I was calling to beg for a replay of our booty call at New Year’s, this time for real.
‘It didn’t occur to me to delete it in a fit of pique if that’s what you assumed.’
I rolled my lips together to stop a genuine smile. I did enjoy the way he talked. He wasn’t scared of using his vocabulary. Maybe it was showing off, or an inbred thing from his school days, but I liked words and he used them well. ‘I figured it was a possibility.’
‘Sorry to disappoint. Is there something I can help you with?’
‘Actually, I think there’s something I can helpyouwith.’
