3, 2, 1...
"And we're back with Writers Weekly starring our special guest, Amelia Aplin, and her new fiction novel A Ghost of Me. Amelia, welcome!"
I adjust in my seat, smile crumbling at the edges from holding it so long. Waving to the camera, my back straightens, and I pretend I can see the sea of faces of the audience behind the shadows. "Thank you for having me! And, please, call me Leah. Everybody does."
"Leah." Maizy Barker, the host of Writers Weekly, looks thrilled at the opportunity to use a nickname. "I love that! Very down to earth."
Offering a charming smile in response, I resisted smoothing out my dress for the millionth time. My eyes pass over the crowd again and I spot the shadowed face of my publisher, Desi, in the front row next to the stage. She gives me an encouraging thumbs up. Taking a deep breath, I turn my attention back to Maizy as she begins to speak again.
"Well, let's get down to business. Before the break we talked a little bit about your latest novel, A Ghost of Me. Just a phenomenal book! You have really out done yourself this time."
Her eyes are a sharp and inquisitive kind of blue, an interesting contrast against her face, which is very "girl next door" in appearance. I wonder briefly if she studied journalism before becoming a talk show host. It also made me wonder if she has read my book or was just particularly good at pretending.
She continues, holding up a copy of my novel for the audience to see before setting it aside. "Now, it's been remarked that many people felt there should have been more of a romance between the main character, Peter, and Lottie, the woman who helps him. What do you think about this?"
I shrug, careful not to look apathetic before responding, "Well, I like to think that my characters tell me the way their stories go. If it were up to me, there may have been more of a spark between the two, but that isn't how they revealed it. I think it's important to tell stories as they happen, not as we wish they would."
Maizy looks at me now as if I'm about to bite the carrot dangling from her hand. Something swirls in my stomach, and I realize how bright and hot the stage lights are. I also worry briefly if I am sweating but decide not to pay it any mind. Instead, I take a drink of the water set out for me and let it cool my internal temperature. When it hits my stomach, everything stops swirling. I take a subtle deep breath.
"There has been talk..." Maizy begins, leaning forward as if we're two girlfriends talking over coffee. "That your fans are... a bit unhappy with the consistent lack of spark between your characters. Now, Leah, you have been a successful fiction writer for quite a few years... but it's the same song. Not to be too blunt, but there's only so much dryness an audience can take. Are you by chance looking to dabble in new genres?"
I regret letting her call me Leah. I regret taking that drink of water because it gurgles in my stomach. Dry? Same song? Lack of spark?
Stunned, I sit motionless. This has been my fifth interview in the last two weeks where someone has brought up romance writing. Was I losing my touch in fiction, could my characters not carry themselves or the story without sex as an incentive?
I write fiction. I want to say. That doesn't always come with a kiss. This novel's premise would not suit a romantic relationship. He is healing his inner child, and she is the catalyst for that change... Romance is not the motivation. Why would they fall in love when he is falling in love with himself?
Resisting the figurative carrot Maizy was dangling in front of me, I cleared my throat and turned toward her. My internal monologue keeps on, but I smile a little tightly, "Fiction is a very broad genre. It has many different subgenres and applications. That's the beauty of it. While it would be exciting for Peter and Lottie to fall in love, I don't think it would have suited the message of the novel."
"Oh, but it would be so delicious!" Maizy squeals, curling her fists and shoulders up in excitement. "In that scene where they are in the park, and she grabs his hand... I just thought for sure they would kiss! Am I right people?!" Maizy speaks out to the audience.
When they erupt into a deafening cheer, I sit back, speechless. A seed of fear and uncertainty blooms in my stomach. Is this what they really wanted? I question. Me? Write a romance?
"Oh please, Leah. You must admit, it was just teeming with tension. The scene where they are in the bathroom? The moment in the car? I think there is a romance writer under that staunch fiction exterior. What do you think ladies and gentlemen? Do we ask Leah to write us a romance novel or what!?"
Maizy could see me yielding. Her smile turned far more predatory when she looked at me again. This was my career she was influencing, my life's work, and the success of my brand-new novel. Even if I didn't plan on giving in to her, one wrong word and the sales of my book would plummet. She knew it and so did I.
My heartbeat races, the lights begin to hum in my ears, and my lower back is, in fact, sweating against the leather chair. This time I do straighten my dress, looking at my fingers as they tremble while touching the pleats of my skirt. I hear Maizy hyping up the crowd, getting them to cheer me on and rallying for a romance novel.
I'd never written romance. I'd never even had one... not like the one they were cheering for me to write. I knew academia, applied research, life, and philosophy... I didn't do pining; I didn't do kissing.
"I'll tell you what, Leah," Maizy turns back to me, and looks at her people on the front stage. "If you write us a romance novel, I will promise you a movie deal once it comes out!" The crowd cheers. Maizy's whole body glitters under the attention and she throws her head back in a laugh before sweeping an arm out to the crowd, "And I promise everyone here, tickets to her premiere when it comes out!"
My heart stops. Instantly I look at Desi, but I can't see her face anymore. A movie deal would change everything.
Maizy examines me expectantly, knowing the temptation was too great for me to resist. When I peer out among the wave of ecstatic fans, cheering me on, I let the excitement get to me. I stand, and their roars get louder. Laughing I put my hands up in surrender, "Alright, alright, I hear you all."
When it went silent, I passed a look at Maizy, who was looking smugly back at me. I decided that, If the devil was a person hiding among us, he'd be a talk show host. In fact, he was probably Maizy Barker.
My palms are sweaty, but I throw them out dramatically, "You want a romance novel?"
The crowd whistles and screams. I can feel the buzzing from the cameras and the lights. Adrenaline courses through my bloodstream. "I said, DO YOU WANT A ROMANCE NOVEL?!"
Even louder, they roar, and I feel like I'm a rockstar. My heart soars. This response, this effect, this is what I dreamed of my writing doing. All these lives I had touched with words, characters, stories...and here they were, wanting more.
Waiting again until it goes silent, until the tension is so thick it is hardly bearable, I grin and whisper into the mic, "Then I'll write you a romance novel."
The response is even greater than I expected. Everyone is on their feet; the lights come up as the camera is panning around the audience. They cheer and celebrate. My heart soars as I see their faces, their smiles, their excited applauses, and waves as they get to see me, and I get to see them.
Feeling a swell of gratitude, mixed with the high of the audience's energy, I can't stop myself before I hold the mic back up and yell, "I'll write you the romance novel of the century!!"
With that, I drop the mic like I'm Eminem or something, and thrust two peace signs up into the air. The crowd goes wild.
I take it in.... Then I take it in. My smile wilts, but I keep my stance as Maizy talks to the cameras saying she'll be back after a few commercials. My stomach curls, my blood chills, I feel a line of cold sweat break out on my forehead and my vision blurs.
It's fine. I tell myself as the panic sets in. I see Desi, and my PR person, Henry, standing side by side at the front of the stage. Both are wearing expressions that mirror exactly what I feel inside. My hands shake and I drop them when the cameras cut too commercial.
Thanking Maizy and the crowd I stumbled off stage and into Desi. She looks astonished, queasy, nervous. Henry looks like he's seen a ghost. I feel like throwing up.
"Are you sure about this?" Desi whispers as we are escorted to the car.
I pass her a worried glance, but mask it with a smile, and nod.
It's romance... How hard could it be?
------
Hello! :)
Well, the adventure has begun. I hope you're all ready for the ride ahahah!
Do you think Leah is really prepared to write a romance novel? I'm not so sure she knows what she's gotten herself into quite yet.
While editing this chapter and preparing it for publishing I was listening to my K-Pop playlist and let me tell you that is not the music to play while editing. If there are people out there who can bump artists like ATEEZ and BTS and D.O. without getting distracted I give them mad props.
Do you have a favorite type of music you like to edit/write/read to?
Let me know and don't forget to vote, comment, and share <3
With love,
E.G.