Chapter 1 #2
The claw-clip ponytail that Sam had haphazardly pinned up that morning finally relinquished the thick waves of rosy-blonde strands from its confines, unable to hold back another second longer.
Sam groaned in frustration as she pulled the strands back, smoothing out the edges with her hands.
“I don’t know if another one is going to help. We tried that last month.”
Angel shrugged. “Then what’s the harm in trying again?”
Other than her pride, Sam couldn’t think of any other good reason. “Fine, I guess we can attempt it.”
“Alright, great,” Angel said as she scooted forward in her chair toward the screen. “How about instead of trying to brainstorm story ideas right now, like we did last time, we just brainstorm a genre to try? It would be a bit less pressure and still at least gives us some progress for today.”
“How very manager-sounding of you.” Sam laughed.
Angel rolled her chocolate-colored eyes dramatically. “Did I also mention that because I’ve known you forever, you’re also my biggest pain in the ass client?”
“Sorry, sorry, you’re right. Let’s brainstorm. Whatcha got?”
“That’s more like it. How about fantasy? I remember you trying to write one a long time ago. Maybe that could be a good direction?”
Sam chewed on the idea for a second before shaking her head. While she did love a good fantasy, she wasn’t sure if she could summon the kind of creative flare and world-building needed to get through something like that.
“Historical fiction, then? It’s a bit of a broad net but maybe something in that realm?”
Sam shook her head again. “I don’t even really like to read those that much, so I don’t think I’d enjoy the process of writing one.”
“Literary fiction?”
“Same thing but also even broader of a net.”
“Science fiction?” Angel suggested, a bit of impatience starting to creep into her voice.
“While I’d love to say I’m smart enough to come up with something ingenious for something like science fiction, I don’t think I have that kind of creative brain power, either,” Sam admitted, quickly taking another sip of her latte.
“Fair. How about a thriller? Your mysteries were all murder mysteries, so maybe something that leans farther into the thriller element?”
It was a tempting thought. It was familiar enough that she wouldn’t have to venture too far out of her comfort zone to create something, and it would still technically be separate from the mysteries she’d been known for. It could work.
Then again, the whole pitch she’d given to her publishers when they came up with this arrangement was that she wanted to write something completely new and different from what she was known for. A thriller felt like a cop-out.
“Definitely something I’d like to circle back to, but I think it hits a little too close to what I’ve already done for it to be really unique.”
“You’re not taking this very seriously,” Angel chided.
Sam laughed. “I promise I am.”
“Alright,” Angel said. “How about horror? It might reflect your love life?”
Sam scowled. “My love life isn’t a horror novel, thank you very much.”
Angel laughed. “I beg to differ. Do I even have to remind you of that terrible date you had with that guy a few months ago? What was his name again?”
“I’d rather not write something that you immediately associate my love life with,” Sam quickly said, changing the subject. She already had enough things to worry about without having to add him to the list. “Besides, you’re one to talk.”
“At least I’ve been on more than one date in the past five years. Though we both know your hangup,” Angel commented, looking narrowly down her slender nose at Sam.
“Oh shut up, are you going to help me, or are you going to just sit here and make fun of me?”
Angel’s smile widened. “I rest my case. Though, with as many romances you read in your free time, maybe you could write a romance? Hell, you could even write a smutty romance. Maybe then you’d be getting laid, even if it’s just in the book.”
In that moment, it felt as if a lightbulb flickered to life—so much so that Sam felt stupid for not thinking of it already. Why on earth hadn’t she thought of a romance?
It was her favorite type of novel to read when she needed to chill out and relax, but she’d never really pictured herself being able to write one herself.
The series she’d just wrapped up had a minor romantic subplot, and even that had felt like she had no idea what she was doing.
Her readers had apparently eaten it up with vigor, though, if the number of fan-fiction stories and artwork she’d been sent over the past few years were any indication.
It would be another thing entirely, however, to write a book with romance at the forefront.
And a smutty one at that? While the idea wouldn’t have tempted her much at the start of her writing journey back in college, the thought was now titillating enough that Sam was practically drooling at the opportunity to explore.
It checked off so many different boxes that it felt like she’d be stupid not to dive into it.
It was something she enjoyed reading for fun, so she wouldn’t be forcing herself into a genre she wouldn’t even pick up herself.
And it was different enough from her other work that her publisher would probably agree that it met her contract.
But, most importantly of all, it was the first time in quite a while that she felt genuinely excited to start writing again.
She felt the spark that had so eluded her for the past year.
Angel was about to be very thrilled, especially since it was technically her idea.
“Hello? Are you still there?” Her agent’s voice broke through Sam’s thought bubble, and she realized she’d been silent a lot longer than she’d intended.
“Angela Louise Smith, I could kiss you!” she declared excitedly, quickly suppressing her volume when a few other customers glanced in her direction.
“What? What did I say?”
Sam leaned back in her chair, her decision firm in her mind.
She was going to write smut.