I am re-editing the first novel I ever wrote called”Write In The Middle Of It” because I would like to re-release it.
I also haven’t been blogging as regularly as I should, so I figured this was a way to kill “two birds”.
Anyway
Photo Credit: © Hassan Davis
Mekayla has a way with words; she always has. But while attempting to write her first novel, she notices that her life is indeed becoming stranger than fiction with each page she drafts. She finds herself in a Love triangle which subsequently puts her life in danger.
Write In The Middle of It is a writer’s novel with surprising subplots that twist and force you to turn the page.
At least, I think so…lol
Here’s the intro. Enjoy!!!
***
“No wonder you are blocked,” Erik said when he handed the first four chapters of the book back to Mekayla.
Mekayla frowned slightly as she placed the papers next to her on the black leather couch. She put out her cigarette in the black ashtray on the black table and glanced over the living room.
Is anything out of place?
Erik was always meticulous about everything: his house, his appearance, his personal life, and his health. Mekayla was surprised that he let her smoke cigarettes in the loft, but she figured when she threatened him with her friendship, he would concede.
Erik, since freshman year of college, was her best male friend and her toughest critic. They were both writers and they respected each other’s opinion. She wasn’t sure if it was Erik’s personality or his male ego that made him especially hard on her writing, but she appreciated it nonetheless.
She had been writing novel Transportation Conversations for a few weeks now, and would bring the rough chapters over to Erik’s loft as they were completed. He seemed to like the first chapter but didn’t seem too thrilled with the rest of it.
Erik took his tall lanky frame into the kitchen and began preparing plates of Vegetarian stir-fry. Because Erik didn’t allow shoes to be worn in his house, Mekayla slid across the hardwood floor in her socks and sat on a black stool at the partition between the living room and kitchen.
“Why you say that?” Mekayla asked as Erik put the plate of veggies and rice in front of her. Erik pulled another black stool from where she was sitting and drug it into the kitchen so he could face her.
“I mean considering the novel is based on your relationship with Kevin, I can see why you are stuck,” he replied.
“It is…not!” Mekayla mumbled through a forkful of food.”
“Please,” Erik mumbled back, “If the beginning of that story wasn’t based on you and Kevin I’ll eat a hamburger.”
Mekayla scowled at Erik and took a couple of more forkfuls of stir-fry before she started to nod.
“This is better than the last batch you made.”
“Thanks,” Erik nodded along, “I put more garlic in it this time.”
“It still needs meat though.” Mekayla remarked.
“Yeah and so does your story.” Erik snapped back.
Mekayla put her fork down and sneered at Erik. She then started running her fingers through her semi coarse, reddish brown hair, which, thanks to her stylist was always bumped to perfection. Nevertheless, she really wanted to put twists in. Less fuss and it was more her style.
She began twirling her bangs around her finger, a habit she picked up as a small girl when she became frustrated, tired or angry. At this point Mekayla was all three.
“Why do you say such things to me, E? You know how sensitive I am about my writing?”
Also taking a break from his food he responded, “That’s exactly why I do it. You are far too talented of a writer to only skim the surface. You didn’t even give the antagonists’ boyfriend a name.”
“Her name is Maria,” Mekayla huffed as she got up and slid over to the cupboard and pulled out a glass from the carefully faced shelf.
Jesus this man is a lunatic.
She opened the black refrigerator and poured herself a glass of Kool -Aid.
“And I was going to, “she said, “but I couldn’t think of one I liked.”
“Well like I said you should have named him Kevin, because the book is about y’all.” Erik said also getting up to get a glass. When he stood next to Mekayla he towered over her short thick frame. Mekayla just playfully slapped his chest before she sat back down.
“Well I told you about my experience on the train,” she said, “it was mostly based on that.” She took several big swallows of her Kool-Aid before she sat back down.
“But everything else is fictional.”
Erik propped himself against the fridge, “Did you let Kevin read it?”
She nodded.
“And what did he say?”
“Well you know Kevin, he likes my stories. He did say that Maria sounded too much like me.”
“At times,” Erik smiled. “I would be pissed at you.”
“Why?!” Mekayla said now twirling another part of her hair.
“Well if I was your man, I wouldn’t want to read a story based on my girl where some really attractive man was trying to push up on her,” he said finishing his Kool-Aid. Then he grabbed another glass out of the cupboard.
Mekayla watched as he put the first glass in the sink and poured more juice into the new glass.
“Why the fuck do you do that?” She asked now twirling her hair so hard some of
it was falling out onto the counter next to her food.
“Do what?”
“Use a new glass every time you drink?”
Erik shrugged her off and went over to the sink to grab a sponge. He wet it, lifted the dinner plates up and wiped the counter removing the strands of hair that had fallen.
“I guess the same reason why I do this. I like my house clean, my dishes clean my self clean. There’s nothing wrong with that is there?”
“I mean I’m clean Erik; you on the other hand are sterile.” She said as she resumed eating the returned plate of food.
“I am?” Erik gasped with a mock look of surprise on his face. “You think I should tell my girlfriend?”
Mekayla didn’t even look up from her plate. “Even if you had a girlfriend, that joke still isn’t funny.”
“You would have laughed if you weren’t taking my criticism so poorly.” He said as he sat back down to finish eating.
“Only because your criticism is poor,” again she said still not looking up.
“Good one.” Erik pointed at her with his fork.
“Seriously Meek, you need to dig deeper that’s all I’m sayin. At the rate you are writing this book, it will be over by chapter eight.”
Mekayla finally looked up. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, you have the characters getting too personal too quickly. Shit, they damn near mentally fucking each other on the train. Maybe you should concentrate more on building the foundation of the relationship between Maria and her man. That would makethe feelings she has for Amir more shocking.
And the story doesn’t have enough “detail” you need to describe the weather, locations more, and the people more.”
Mekayla nodded, “How was the dialogue?”
“You never had a problem with dialogue that is always good. Just work on your setting.”
“Okay,” Mekayla said with hesitation, “I will, thanks.”
Erik got up taking his empty plate to the garbage can to “scrape” off, “Now can I ask you a personal question?”
She nodded.
“How are you and Kevin really doing?”
That was tough question for Mekayla to answer, because she honestly didn’t know.
She was a firm believer in actions speaking louder than words but when you are involved in a long distance relationship, communication is the key. Communication based
on words. But because Mekayla has brought baggage with her and the fact that she herself manipulates words to create illusions in her writing, she has a hard time believing them.
She didn’t want to tell Erik that either, because he didn’t really believe in long distance relationships. Shit Erik didn’t believe in relationships. He just goes from one female to another because the female always starts “trippin”. What he doesn’t realize is that the female starts “trippin” after the sex happens:
“If you don’t want a commitment, don’t sleep with the woman. Because I don’t care what any woman says, most women cannot separate sex and emotion. Even when you are just fucking, there is some sort of emotion there. Unless you’re a ho, but that’s another story”
(to be continued)…
bohemiangypsy 