Misadventures in Editing: The Kidnapping of A. Marie

Ever wondered what a writer goes through when editing a work-in-progress? Here’s your chance to find out. Take a look at some of the things that happened while I’ve been working on my current novel. If you’ve ever had something like this happen to you, please tell me in the comments.

This picture is not in focus. That's okay. It doesn't fit this blog anyway.
This picture is not in focus. That’s okay. It doesn’t fit this blog anyway.

I was at the diner when Celeste called me.

“Amethyst.” It was hard to describe her voice.  She wasn’t frantic. Maybe annoyed?  I couldn’t really tell. “Drop your donut and get back to the conference room. We’ve got a situation.”

I hustled into Celeste’s store, finding her in the storage room. Celeste was in the far corner of the room, standing next to the door that led to our conference room.

“What’s the 911?” I swallowed the last bite of my donut.

“It’s A. Marie. She’s been kidnapped by these goons.”

My brow creased.  “Huh? Like for real?”

Celeste sighed. “Come with me.” She opened the door.  The room was more crowded than usual. Although this time, we weren’t invaded by elves. And goons was a serious understatement on Celeste’s part. Three heavily armed men stood around A. Marie who was being held at gunpoint as she sat typing at her computer.

A fourth man sat in a chair, in front of the armed guys.  He was decked out in a designer suit – beige with a red satin tie.  He had piercing eyes and curly hair cut short.  He stood up and walked over toward us.  “Excuse me, ladies. I’m afraid this is a private party.  I’ll need you to step outside.”

I crossed my arms.  “Who the hell are you? And what’s with gunmen? This isn’t an action story.” Please tell me A. Marie didn’t change the genre again.

“You’ll have to excuse my manners.” He extended his arm out toward me.  “My name is Samuel Balistrari. I’ve acquired Ms. Silver’s services for the day.”

“You’ve acquired?” Was this guy for real? “That would suggest she’s a willing participant.  The guns imply otherwise.”

Balistrari glanced over at me.  “Doesn’t really matter what you think, my dear.  Until she does what I’ve required of her, she’s not going anywhere. Now, please show yourself out.”

“Hey!” Celeste marched up to him, jabbing him in the chest with her index finger. “This my store.  Take your muscle and get out.”

Balistrari didn’t move an inch.

“I mean it!” Celeste stomped her foot. “I’ve bitch-slapped a dragon that was three times your size.  I’m not afraid of you.”

Balistrari cleared his throat. He rose, straightening his jacket. “Gentleman. It seems we have a situation here.  Please escort these two ladies out of the conference room.

Two of the armed goons that were watching over A. Marie, walked toward us.  One goon walked straight toward us, the other came from around the other side of the table. I felt like we were being stalked. That thought sent shivers crawling down my spine,

“What do we do now?” I asked Celeste.


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5 thoughts on “Misadventures in Editing: The Kidnapping of A. Marie

  1. Hijacked more likely – happens all the time. Friends, Facebook, Books, TV, Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, Refrigerator, Laundry, Bills, Skiing, Poems, Short Stories, Alcohol, Cell/Phone, Ollie, Bathroom, Sleep, and looking out the window for hours on end that never seem to end. [Note: I’ve left so much out trying to keep this short.]

  2. Happens to me all the time at work. I’m very productive on something important, writing, researching, analyzing. Then the boss forces me to work on something else, and it isn’t even ripe yet, if you know what I mean. My heart longs to continue the productive work, but I’m being forced to do something else. Sigh.

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