Heroine -( giggle giggle). I had to double-check the spelling of it. The last thing I want is for people to think I have heroin, in my possession; nevermind that I’d be having a conversation with it.
I sat down at my husband’s computer and began logging in. But before the novel-writing festivities could begin, I had a few cyber errands I had to take care of.
(One Hour Later)
Okay; let’s see, I’ve finished surfing through Facebook, Google+, Twitter, and Pinterest. Chewing on my lip, I tried to think of anything other forms of procrastination. Unable to come up with anything else, I opened up Word and began typing.
“Hold on there!” A female disembodied voice came floating through my computer. I wasn’t really sure what I heard so I continued typing.
“Rude much! I’m trying to have a conversation,” said the voice again. I looked around the bedroom trying to find the source of the voice. My cat, Gwennie, stared back at me looking as irritated as ever. I know the voice didn’t belong to her. No one else was in the room. My iPad was turned off and the television downstairs was off.
“Oh God,” I said. “Writing about all this paranormal stuff has somehow invited a ghost into my house.”
“Not quite,” she said again.
“Who is that?” I had no idea who I was asking.
“It’s me! Amethyst!”
“Amethyst?” The heroine of my novel? Could it be? Really? Nah.
“Yes Amethyst,” she said again. “Listen here, author-writer person! We’ve got some things to discuss before you get started.”
I’m nuts. I’m bonkers. I’ve completely lost my mind. I’m schizophrenic! I must be!
“Are you listening?”
“Yes,” I reluctantly responded.
“Good!” Amethyst said. “I’ve got a list of complaints so pay attention.”
Wow! I’m a truly talented person. I’ve somehow managed to offend a fictional character I created.
“We’re 115 pages into this novel,” she continued, “And so far all you’ve done is ruin my life!”
“How so?”
“You got me arrested, for starters!” she said.
“I got you arrested,” I pointed to myself as I said it. “Really? That wasn’t my idea!”
“Of course it was!” Amethyst yelled back. “What do you think happened? You think I climbed out of the computer, typed the words and then hit ENTER? What’s wrong with you? I can’t do that! I’m not real!”
Oh it’s on now! “Listen here, Missy! It wasn’t my idea to get you arrested. I was sitting on the couch, minding my own business, watching Grey’s Anatomy, when Detective O’Brien slapped the cuffs on you. I was an innocent bystander!”
“Innocent my fictional-ass!”
“Hey!” Now it was my turn to yell. “Watch your language! My mother’s gonna read this!”
“What’s she gonna do? Erase me?”
“She just might,” I said. “Right after she chastizes me for letting you say it.”
“That’s not how you spell chastises, Moron! It’s C-H-A-S-T-I-S-E-S! What did you do? Buy your Master’s degree off of Craig’s List? Clearly spelling wasn’t a graduation requirement!”
“Hey! At least I have a Master’s degree! You’re barely out of your first four years of college!” Hold on here! How did I get fully engaged in an argument with a fictional character? I don’t have time for this! I let out a loud a sigh. “What is it you want?”
“Super powers,” she said with out missing a beat.
“Huh?”
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, well, you have super powers. You’re psychic. You know things other people don’t. That’s super.”
“That’s not good enough,” she said. “I want more.”
My main character is a diva. How did that happen? I didn’t write her like that. I wrote her to be a nice girl. “I tell you what,” I began. “In the first book, you are what you are; a psychic and nothing more. I’ll consider giving more talents for the second book but only if you mind your manners.” If she feels she has it rough now, just wait. I have a pretty sadistic sense of humor. Right now the ending is going to be happy. She keeps talking to me like this I’ll make her life hell.
“I sincerely hope your,” she paused. “Considerations, as you call them, are in MY favor.”
I rolled my eyes. Bring it on Barbie! “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Can we get back to work now?”
“You can do whatever you want,” Amethyst said.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“It’s my day off,” she said. “I have a date to get ready for.”
What? “A date? I didn’t write that.”
“Well then you better get to it,” she said. “I expect you to make me look hot and while you’re at it, take twenty pounds off of me.” She’s dreaming.
I may have to rethink this whole writing thing. I’m already in over my head with a husband, a baby and two cats – one of which needs Xanax. I don’t think I can handle my characters making outrageous demands. The last thing I need is for Amethyst to become the next Lindsey Lohan. My book would never get finished if that happened.
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