Chapter Twenty-Six Bennett
| Twenty-Six |
Bennett
Bennett locked the door behind him and sat down at his computer.
He put his hands on the keys, but they didn’t move.
He longed for the early days when they flew across the keyboard, the joy of writing making the hours seem like minutes.
Of course, those early manuscripts never made it to the final cut.
They had been what he now considered his practice books, the ones that garnered interest but ultimate rejection.
You couldn’t write what you wanted. It was a business.
And the trends were fickle. The business of publishing was in his head, reminding him about lists and sales and changing tastes.
The muse was quiet. Had been quiet for a long time now and he was struggling, drowning, doing his level best to find it again.
He had less than three months to turn in this next book.
Marion had already warned him that there’d be no extensions this time.
He must have been crazy to sign that two-book deal with a mere year separating publication dates.
But the money they had dangled made him do it.
And there was no way he was going to pay back his advance.
Fuck. He took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair.
He had to think. At least he’d had the foresight to leave the plot of the second book open.
But the problem was, he didn’t have a story.
Everything that came to mind was either overdone or clichéd.
He went to the bestsellers listed on and methodically clicked on them one by one, reading each synopsis and making notes.
He saved the document and thought some more.
He needed something fresh yet familiar. That old axiom of Hollywood wanting something different yet the same.
Readers were so fickle. Disappoint them once and you could lose them forever.
He began to outline a new idea, then hit the delete key.
That was too similar to his second book.
Frustrated, he went to the folder on his desktop and clicked, then entered the password.
That took him to another screen where a second password was required.
He typed again. The screen was populated with a collage.
Pictures of the women he’d hoped would turn out to be someone he could spend his life with.
But it never seemed to work out, even after he’d become famous.
Angela’s picture filled the screen and he remembered that last night with her.
He minimized the photo and was about to click on Devon’s photo, but his hand froze.
Enough. Shaking his head, he closed out the folder.
He didn’t have time to meander down memory lane today.
He had promised himself he wouldn’t look at them until he had accomplished his weekly word count.
He would come back and remember them when he hit his goals.
Only then did he deserve to relive those final moments.
But Savannah would be different. He had to be more careful not to snap at her.
She was sensitive, and he could tell he’d hurt her feelings.
But he was going to have to set some ground rules.
He was stressed enough without having to worry about Savannah nosing around.
Certain things were meant to stay buried.