Blaise laughed. “Thanks for clarifying. And for not making me sound like a nut.”
They both leaned in, taking in the polished draft one more time. It had taken a dozen tweaks, and a lot of conversation, but it finally sounded like it was talking about the version of Blaise she was trying so hard to reclaim.
Blaise had to ask. “You think it’s ready to send?”
“I do, but…” Cece tapped her lip thoughtfully. “You know what might give it a better chance?”
Blaise looked up. “What’s that?”
“If you included the first chapter.”
Blaise blinked. “What first chapter?”
“The first one of your book,” Cece said, like it was obvious.
Blaise stared at her. “Cece. I haven’t written anything yet.”
Cece paused mid-breath. “Nothing? I thought you were working on it.”
“No. Not a word.” Blaise pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, and suddenly feeling like she’d forgotten to do her homework. Beau grumbled at being displaced, but quickly settled. “I have to confess, I don’t know where to start. My life feels too big. Too chaotic. Too hard to capture in words, which is ironic, considering this was my idea. I just don’t know where to start. Or how.”
Cece’s expression softened. “I get that. But it doesn’t have to be perfect. You just need a place to begin.”
Blaise sighed. “I’ve lived so many lives. Model. Wife. Mother. Widow. Woman who lost almost everything. Woman trying to rebuild. How do I decide what becomes Chapter One?”
“Well,” Cece said, shifting to sit cross-legged beside her. “Let’s see if we can figure that out.” She rested her elbow on the back cushion and turned fully toward her friend. “If you had to pick a moment—not the prettiest, not the fanciest, but the one that resonates with you the most—where would your story really start?”
Blaise stared at the coffee table, at the gentle rise and fall Beau’s chest, at the cursor blinking on the Word doc that held the letter they’d been crafting. Her throat tightened.
“I guess…the moment I realized how badly I’d screwed up. When my life felt like it was gone,” she said quietly, remembering that moment as if it had just happened. “When the bank called. When I understood what that scammer had taken from me. Not just the money. In that moment, it felt like he’d also taken my future.”
Cece nodded gently. “That’s powerful. And painful. And very honest.”
“But depressing,” Blaise muttered. She picked at the seam of her jeans. The shame and despair of that event clawed at her, threatening to pull her back down. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get past it.
“Not if it’s the beginning of climbing back up.” Cece leaned forward slightly. “What did it feel like? What did you do? What was the very first thing you said to yourself?”
Blaise swallowed, unsure how to put that raw memory into words that made sense. “I think…I remember sitting on my kitchen floor, phone in my hand. Just sitting there. Beau nudged me and kind of brought me around. I realized I couldn’t sit there forever. That doing nothing was not an answer. And with Jay gone, I had to stand up for myself.”
Cece nodded slowly, encouragingly. “That’s good. That’s a beginning. And because it’s so honest and true, it’ll draw readers in. Get them to empathize with you.”
Blaise looked at her friend, gratitude swelling. Asking Cece to help with this had been the right move. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe,” Cece corrected gently. “Definitely. The general public is already going to be on your side. You were—are—a famous face. You were well-liked in your heyday, there’s no reason to think you won’t still be well-liked.”
“Do you really think I have enough to fill a book?”
Cece laughed. “For sure. You just need to trust yourself enough to write it.”
“That sounds easier said than done.”
“Think of it this way,” Cece said. “Write like you’re talking to someone. Me, if that helps. There’s nothing wrong with a conversational style. Lots of autobiographies and memoirs are written that way. Don’t worry about being perfect or how long it is. Worry about telling a good story and telling it accurately. Can you do that?”
Blaise nodded. “Yeah, I can.”
“Good. Do you think you can write that first chapter today?”
Blaise’s mouth fell open. “Seriously?”
