Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Mercifully, room service showed up a minute later, so we had something else to focus on besides my pathetic childhood. The pasta was great, and afterwards we shared a slice of chocolate cake, then lingered over coffee. The conversation continued to flow, and I was surprised by how much we had to talk about. I wouldn’t have expected us to have the first thing in common.
Finally, around one in the morning, I said, “You’re probably getting tired, so I guess I should go.” Not that I wanted this to end, but I also didn’t want to wear out my welcome.
“Why don’t you spend the night? It’s late, and you still don’t have anything to wear, because I never did repair your suit.”
“I’d love that. Where should I sleep, in the second bedroom?”
“If that’s what you want, sure.”
The way he said that made me ask, “Would you mind if we slept in the same bed?”
“I’d prefer it, actually.”
“Okay, good. Me, too.”
He found me a new toothbrush from a multipack in his toiletry kit, and we took turns in the bathroom. Once we were under the covers and the lights were low, we both rolled onto our sides facing each other. “Thanks for staying,” he said. “I’ve had a nice time tonight, and I wasn’t ready for it to end.”
“Same.”
“We were talking about something important earlier, when Ginny interrupted us.”
“No, we weren’t.”
“We were talking about ways to publish your writing, and—”
“Exactly, and that’s not important.”
“It is, though.”
I frowned at him and asked, “Is there a reason you waited until we were in bed to bring this up again?”
He smiled sweetly. “Yes. I could tell you hated this subject, but once you were all cozy and tucked in, I figured you’d be less likely to run away when I brought it up again.”
“That’s a little bit evil.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No. I absolutely would have bolted if you’d tried to keep talking about this earlier.”
“But now you’re not going to, are you?” He looked a little smug.
“No, I’m not. Damn you and these incredibly soft high thread count sheets!”
He chuckled at that before asking, “Can I read your manuscript, the one you submitted for publication?”
“No! Gross.”
“Why is that gross?”
“Because it’s a steaming pile of garbage.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you’re an intelligent, clever, articulate person, and I’m sure your work reflects that.”
I frowned at him and asked, “Why does this matter to you?”
“I hate the thought of anyone giving up on their dreams, especially when they work in a creative field. Every book, every painting, every musical composition that someone deems unworthy and hides away is a loss, both to its creator and to the people who would have loved it.”
“Well said. Maybe you should have been a writer.”
“I am. But instead of producing novels or screenplays, I produce musical compositions and song lyrics.”
“Oh, right. I hadn’t thought of it that way. So, you—”
“We were talking about you, Daniel.”
“I know, but I’m really good at deflecting. In fact, I’ve honed it to Ninja levels. Whenever the topic comes near me, bam! I kick it away. It’s like—”
He pressed his index finger to my lips and grinned. “You’re still changing the subject. And if you don’t want me to read your manuscript, that’s fine. But tell me this—when was the last time you wrote anything?”
“I don’t know. Two years, maybe? I got busy with work, and life, and whatever. There’s not much point in continuing, though. I spent so many years editing and reworking my novel that it’s a huge mess now. It started getting worse, not better, and the more time I did to it, the more convoluted it became.”
“This is just a thought,” he said, “but what if you gave yourself permission to set aside that manuscript and start something new?”
“I can’t just abandon it. Like I said, I have years invested in that story. I started working on it in college.”
He reached over and gently brushed back my hair. “I’m not telling you to abandon it or give up on it. I would never suggest that. But it might feel good to start something new and totally different, something that would allow you to discover the joy of writing again. And isn’t this the perfect time to do that? You said you haven’t had this much time off in years.”
“True…”
So, tomorrow, why don’t you get comfortable here in the suite and do some writing?”
“Wouldn’t you find it annoying if I hung around all day?”
“No, I’d love the company. My songwriting has been stalled out for quite a while, and it’s inspiring to spend time with other creative people. In fact, we could turn it into a two-person writers’ retreat—one that includes room service, and occasional breaks for sex.”
That made me smile. “Best writers’ retreat ever! I’d have to be a fool to turn that down.”