Too into myself

“Well, I’m working on a novel right now.”

“What’s it about?” They inquire.

“Well, it’s a thriller. I’ve been working on it since 2018…I think. But I’m also working on some short stories.” I take a nervous sip of my beer.

They smile and lean in. “Tell me more about your novel.”

Although a bit hesitant, I say, “Well, there’s a protagonist, of course. And an antagonist.”

“Clearly!” They reply.

“Well, the antagonist came about when I woke up shouting his name 10-15 years ago. The name, the clothes, the facial features, the intimidation, the fear, the CHARACTER. Just hit me one night in my sleep.”

They look pensively at me across the table, slightly nodding.

“Well, this character…we’ll call him Bama; is the life of the novel, but the novel is inspired by true events that happened on a road trip I took back in 2003.”

“Interesting.” They smile. I think to myself, good I haven’t lost them.

“Yeah, so it’s challenging in that my story is based in a pre-tech era. At least the technology we’re used to today. No social media back then really.”

I pause to take another, longer sip of my dos xx, dressed of course. So, I lick the top of the bottle to get a hint of salt and tajin on my tongue. I squint and make a face to get a bit of attention, then proceed.

“I also tend to make a lot of pop culture references in my novel. I’m not sure if that adds to the story and sets the premise or if I’m just trying to hit to 40,000 word minimum for my story to be considered a novel.”

“So why have you not finished it?” They ask.

“Life. I say with a shrug. Honestly, I’m a busy person. I have most free time March through September and do my best writing while on vacation. Really, anywhere other than my home, which holds a myriad of distractions.”

Their eyes are still on me. Slightly nodding.

“You see, when I get bored…or have writer’s block, for lack of a better term, I switch and work on the two short stories I’ve been embarking on. Only a few pages in on both, where my novel is almost at 100.” I smile and lean back in my wooden, reclined chair. Proud of my hobby and the fact that they’re showing interest in me and my work.

“Very cool! So, what about your short stories. Are those thrillers too?”

I lean in again. “No. Surprisingly one is kind of fantasy, and I hate fantasy. It’s set in a past or future dystopian society and the other isn’t a romance story, but a love story. Some sex involved, but more about the peoples’ attractions to each other than the sex. And about their differences, of course.”

“Really!? Do you want to tell me more about those?” they ask.

“I think I need another beer first. The love story is about a couple of lesbians."

They lean back, with another pensive look, but smile. "Wow! You're all over the place."

"Indeed."