For Fun

The puzzlement in my brow keeps falling deeper and deeper I’m sure it’ll leave frown lines on my face. A bundle of words sit on the screen. Two paragraphs in the entire document that I had no idea would come out.

“You look troubled.”

The cool voice had a hint of a peaceful night to it. I lean back from the desk. A man with silver hair stretching his shoulders leans against the wall. Amusement twitches my lip. “Candra. What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “You tell me.” He pulls off the wall and over to the desk. In the light of the lamp, his pale eyes shine like the full moon. “You needed an idea and this is what we’ve got.” With a skinny hand, he motions to the computer screen. “Trouble with the novel?”

I correct him. “The sequel.” He stares blankly at me and I plop back in the chair. “They keep changing the story.”

He raises a crescent shaped eyebrow.

I get a little impatient. He should know what I mean. I rudely motion to the screen. “The characters.”

His frosted lips curl to a smile and I see his gaze flicker to a banner above the window. “Right,” he says with a drawl. “It’s almost as if you have a quote for this.”

I huff and I don’t look up at the banner. I know what it says. It’s a quote from a video game character who also happens to be an author. It says the characters drive the story and not the author who writes it. “I still believe that.” I can’t help but be stubborn. I motion to the screen. To the two paragraphs that came out of nowhere. “But I had a plan. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Candra shrugs. “Then delete it.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

I purse my lips and bite them between my teeth. Candra leans against the desk and crosses his arms. The squint in his eyes has growing amusement behind them. I knew he’d wait as long as it took for me to answer. He was ever patient. Ever watchful.

I fix my gaze on one of the paintings on my walls. My voice comes out stiff. “Because it makes things more interesting.”

His grin stretches ear to ear. “Are you saying your story isn’t interesting?”

I lean toward him. “It’s interesting,” I snap. “But, this,” I motion to the two paragraphs. “Opens up so much. It changes schematics. Changes how the main character–” I cut off with a groan. “I’m gonna have to rewrite everything.”

Candra started picking at his fingernails. “Well, you already knew that. You knew this wasn’t going to be the final draft.”

I pout. “I know. I’m trying to get the story on the page so I know what to change in the beginning.” I look around the desk for a clean paper. “I need to start making a list. There’s becoming too much.”

Candra looks at me side-long. “You have a list. You have several. There’s the one on the computer. The one on your phone.” He points over me. “Pretty sure that notebook there has a thing or two in it.” I must not have controlled my expression very well, because he suddenly nudges me. “Don’t look so down. It’ll be great once it’s done.”

I swallow and bob my head. Writing a story is fun and all until you actually start trying to do it right. “It’s just a daunting task.”

Candra smirked. “So was the first book and look where it’s at?”

I can’t help but smile at him. Sitting up straighter, I release the daunting feeling with a breath. “Right, I should get back to it.” I look at the two paragraphs on the screen with acceptance of their challenge. “I wonder what other surprises will pop up.”

Candra clears his throat. He motions to the internet tab on the computer. “You’re recording this conversation. Why…uh…why are you posting on the website? Aren’t you worried people will be a little concerned for you talking with an imaginary friend?”

I can’t help but chuckle. Imaginary friend was right. “So people can see at least one conversation a writer has with themselves to say sane amidst all the writing and rewriting and editing and plotting and reconfiguring and writers block and all that.” I lean back and toss my hands in the air. “Plus, it’s fun. Sometimes you have to write something fun and crazy to change it up and keep you going.”

Candra smiles. He tips his head and taps his forefinger against it. When I turn back to the computer screen, he fades away like a cloud slipping away from the moon.