Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
JULIAN
I stare at the contact information for my writing partner. Priscilla Jenkins. I wonder why she chose that as a pen name. Master’s degree in creative writing. No big deal. I may not have a formal education in writing, but I can tell a story. Besides, my MBA from Wharton is nothing to sneeze at.
No published works - yet. Maybe she’s trying to go with traditional publishing, which is hard to break into. I’ve published three books independently, and they’ve produced decent numbers, but I would like to see them grow.
Let’s see what else I can learn about Priscilla. Prefers strong heroines. Good. Me too. Likes flawed heroes. Oh great! One of those women who prefers the male character on his knees, and not just in the bedroom. I bet she’ll create our male to be some weak, soft, cinnamon roll kind of guy who won’t even challenge my girl. I’m willing to put money on it.
I’m exasperated, and we haven’t even started this yet. We’re using software that allows us to collaborate and communicate with chat while maintaining anonymity. Apparently, we both asked for that. We also agreed to use our pen names for the duration. Hell, Priscilla could be a single guy with lots of cats living in his mother’s basement in Kansas. I doubt it, but who knows?
I log into our secure portal and find our first assignment is preloaded. Collaborate on an outline and create characters for a sports romance . Fantastic. I can do sports romance. Sports are my thing. Any sport works for me. I’ll let her pick.
I wonder which we should do first: the story or the characters. When I write by myself, I usually have the characters and come up with an interesting story. What’s Priscilla’s method? Only one way to find out.
JB: Hi Priscilla! Which do you do first? Character or plot? And what sport do you prefer?
She responds almost immediately.
PRISCILLA: Hi JB! This is wild, right? I can’t believe we are co-writing a book. Still in a state of shock here. Professor Daniels eluded you’re a man, but he never confirmed. Is that true? You never know when authors use initials or pen names. I mean, it’s no big deal, but a male romance author is unusual. We agreed to pen names, but call me curious.
I was waiting for this, and even so, my anxiety creeps up a notch. I made it clear anonymity was essential, but maybe a gender reveal isn’t that big of a deal.
JB: Ever hear of Nicholas Sparks?
PRISCILLA: OMG. Of course. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s unusual. Different. And I like it. I’m hopeful we can make each other better.
While I’m figuring out what to say, she gets us back on track.
PRISCILLA: To answer your question, I’m not much of a plotter, so I focus on my characters and let them tell me their story. But I suppose we should agree on some basics. I can write a pro hockey player pretty well. What do you want the girl to do? I’m open to any trope but admit I’m a traditionalist, so no harems if that’s OK with you.
HA! She thinks she can write about hockey players. I seriously doubt it, but that’s where I can help her. My best friend is in the NHL, and I represent several other players. I know these guys better than most. But fine, she wants to take a shot, I won’t stop her.
She poses a good question, though. What does my girl do? Work for the team? Do they meet on a dating app? A teammate’s sister? I channel my inner Chance. He’s busy with minimal time to meet people. How does he meet women? When he’s on the road, girls hang out at the hotels, hoping to score with a player, but I can’t have him fall for a puck bunny.
I appreciate Priscilla’s traditional view. If I’m honest, I’m traditional too. It may look like I have a harem, but things aren’t always as they appear. I’m a one-woman man.
I need to know more about the setting to narrow it down.
JB: In-season or off-season?
PRISCILLA: More time to be together in the off-season, but maybe dealing with the travel schedule is part of the conflict?
JB: True.
Well, maybe she understands the reality. Which do I prefer? What does my girl want? I let myself daydream and consider the girls I know. I scroll through my phone contacts for inspiration and quickly realize most of these girls aren’t someone I’d want to be with long term. Good for a fun time, not a long time. That’s why I’m still single at thirty-one.
I keep scrolling, looking for interesting women I could model my character after. Emma Jones, Ashleigh’s best friend. She’s a teacher. So is Xander’s wife, Dani. Maybe my character could be a teacher.
Emma is a strong possibility for a muse, since she’s single. She’s tiny, feisty, and always reminds me of Tinkerbell. She’s adorable, sexy, and nope. I’m too close to that subject matter and can’t think of her that way. My character is not like Emma. I need to scrub my mind clean of those thoughts immediately.
I keep scrolling through my contacts. Let’s see. There’s Darcy Davidson, Ashleigh’s future sister-in-law. She’s interesting and endearing. A designer. That job gives her flexibility our hockey player might need. Maybe a designer.
Then I scroll to the newest contact in my phone. Harper Cartwright. She definitely checks all the boxes. Sexy, bold, funny, confident. I don’t know much about her background, but I could work with this. I’m reminded how my body reacted when she was pressed up against me, and I’m liking where this is going. My character development starts to form.
JB: Let’s make it the last half of the season. He’ll have to work harder to see her. I’ll complete on my character sheet and send it over shortly.
PRISCILLA: Great! I’ll do the same. So excited!
The best way to work on my character? Get familiar with my inspiration better. I text Harper.
Hey Harper! Julian here. Checking in to make sure you got home with no more incidents.
The bubbles start and stop for the next ten minutes. I can’t remember the last time I waited for a girl to text me back. It’s for research, I tell myself. Yeah, that’s it. But is it?
I picture those ruby red lips and wonder what they taste like. What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to focus on this project, not Harper.
Minor incident, but that’s New York for you.
My heart stops and I feel a twinge of panic. My fingers can’t move fast enough to text her back.
What kind of incident? Are you ok?
Fine. Just took the subway in the wrong direction. Only took me four stops to figure it out.
She’s taking the subway? Sure, millions of people do that every day, but it’s not safe for her. Especially not looking like a cross between the sweet girl next door and a sexy librarian. I grit my teeth and exhale through my nose. I need to calm down.
Where are you now?
Don’t start with me, Mr. Decker. I’ve got one overprotective brother. I don’t need another.
I’m definitely not thinking brotherly things about her right now. But she’s right. Where is this coming from?
Besides, Noodle will protect me.
The image on my screen shows a little brown wiener dog, its long body relaxed in her lap. I shake my head at her ridiculousness and write that on my character sheet. She’s na?ve. But laced with a little sass.
Usually when I hear Mr. Decker, I look around for my father. But I can imagine her saying it to me, and another fantasy involving my desk comes to life.
Maybe my girl takes care of the hockey player’s dog when he travels. I add animal lover to her character traits. Kind, compassionate. A dog walker would have to hustle to make a living at it, so I add tenacious. Maybe even scrappy. Like a cuddly kitten that thinks it can scratch your eyes out but can’t really do much damage. They think they’re fierce, but they’re actually cute and cuddly.
An idea takes root. The characters don’t really see each other but leave notes for one another. The notes become flirty and suggestive. He comes home early, startles her, and she pepper sprays him in his own home. YES! I like where this is going.
I wouldn’t put all my faith in Noodle.
Noodle will take on anyone from the ankles down. I believe in Noodle power!
I’ll be the judge of that. Let me take you to dinner.
Thanks, but I can’t.
Not to sound cocky, but that’s the first time a woman has turned me down in, well, I don’t remember. Strangely, I’m intrigued. Is it really a can’t or more like a no thank you?
OK. Another time?
What does that mean? WTF does an emoji mean? I stand up and pace around my home office, clutching my phone.
I reach out to my friend Trevor, who owns the Savannah Pajamas baseball team. He uses emojis like they’re another language. I only understand half of his texts most days.
Hey T, what does it mean when I ask someone to dinner, they say no, I say another time, and they respond with this
I read his response, and have no choice but to concede defeat.
Yep.
Disappointment settles in, but I use it as motivation to complete my character development. Yeah, I’m disappointed. Not about the rejection. My ego isn’t that inflated that I can’t handle a little rejection. No, I’m disappointed because I’d like to get to know Harper more. Genuinely. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and get to work. I’ll have to let my imagination create my character for now.
Professor Daniels said I struggle with female character development. Watch me knock this out of the park.