Single Wide Female: The Bucket List Mega Bundle - 24 Books (Books #1-24) (43 page)

“She can illustrate my point perfectly.” Ben nodded his head towards me. “Is Samantha reality or fantasy?”

I looked among the contemplative faces around me. I wondered if they could really be considering the question.

“I don’t think that can really be a debate. Obviously she’s here—she’s right in front of us.” Charlie shook his head and shot me a wink.

“Lots of things are right in front of us.” Audrey said. “Take this coffee cup. I know that it’s right in front of me, but I can only assume what is inside of it. I can’t look inside from where I’m sitting.”

“So you’re saying you can see the shell, but you can’t see the content?” I peered at the coffee cup with interest as I posed the question.

“Exactly. All Americans are engaged in the art of fantasy. We can’t walk out the door without making sure our masks are in position.” She laughed a little as she swept her gaze over my outfit. “At least some of us can’t.”

“Audrey, I think you’re giving Samantha here the wrong impression.” Charlie met Audrey’s gaze across the table. I could sense some tension between the two.

“It’s alright, I’m here to learn.” I hoped my cheerful attitude would diffuse whatever was happening between the two of them.

“So tell us about your work, Samantha. What have you been writing?” Audrey crossed one long leg over the other and sat back easily on the tall stool. She was so effortless in the way she moved. I couldn’t help but admire her.

“Actually, I brought something with me.” I began rummaging through my purse to find the first few pages I had brought. Somehow they had managed to slip down to the bottom. As I dug down into my purse I didn’t notice that my chair was beginning to tip. It wasn’t until I felt an eerie sense of weightlessness that I realize the mistake I’d made. By then it was nearly too late.

“Oops!” I reached out to catch the edge of the table in an attempt to keep myself from tumbling to the floor. I did get a grip on the table. The only problem was that the table was as lightweight and flimsy as the chair I was falling off of in the same instant. Instead of just hitting the floor with an embarrassing thud, I brought the entire table down on top of me, along with all of the drinks that had been sitting on top of it.

As everything crashed around me I heard gasps and screeches from above. The one good thing about the situation was that the furniture was so light it didn’t seem to cause me any injury.

“Samantha? Are you okay?” Charlie tugged the table off me and set it upright again. A few of the staff members from the cafe had come rushing over to check on me as well. The rest of the writers’ group were all staring at me with shock.

My gaze landed on the big coffee stain on the front of Audrey’s once pristine white blouse. I secretly wished that the table had knocked me out so that I didn’t have to see her withering stare.

Charlie grabbed me under the arms and tried to help me up off the floor. Every time I tried to stand up, my shoes slid through the puddles of liquid on the floor and I plopped back down again. It was mortifying, and all I could think about was getting out of the cafe as soon as possible.

I finally got to my feet with Charlie’s help. As I stood up I found myself surrounded by staff.

“Are you okay?”

“Do you need ice?”

“Should I call an ambulance?”

I knew that they were being kind but that their concern was also about whether the company would be held responsible for any injuries I might have suffered.

“I’m fine—just embarrassed. I’m so sorry about the mess.” I couldn’t even meet the eyes of the waitress who walked over with a mop.

“It’s no problem. Why don’t you and your party move to another table? We’ll get you some new drinks and get this all cleaned up.” She smiled so warmly that I felt a little better.

“Well, this was certainly interesting.” Audrey mopped at her shirt with a napkin. “I wonder if you could do that again if you tried.”

I almost automatically replied with a resounding “Yes, I could,” but I realized from the cruelty in her eyes that she was not being friendly.

“I’m sorry. I should probably go.”

“Yes, you do that.” Audrey shook her head.

“Wait. Is this yours?” Charlie held up the papers I had been searching for. They must have fallen out of the bag on my way down. There were a few splashes of coffee across them, but they were still readable.

“Yes!” I attempted to take the papers from Charlie but he held tightly to them.

“Read it to us.” He smiled at me.

I knew he was trying to be helpful but I was already a nervous wreck after the disaster I’d caused.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just the beginning of a novel—nothing too interesting.”

“Then why are you writing it?” Ben asked.

“Well, I like it.” I laughed. “That doesn’t mean that anyone else will.”

“Listen, hon, all writing is a risk. Is it good? Is it not good? But you can’t find out if you just keep it to yourself.” Audrey offered the advice with a vague smile.

I took a deep breath and decided that if I was there, I might as well get the most out of the experience.

“Okay, I’ll read it.”

“Yes!” Charlie offered a proud smile. “Now that’s a good start.”

Chapter 4

Looking down at the paper in my trembling hands, I wasn’t sure if my voice would even work to speak the words. When I began to read the introduction of the story, I could feel all of their eyes on me. Their gazes were weighted with what I hoped was interest, but felt more like judgment. I was so nervous that my vision began to blur. I had a very difficult time focusing on the words. As a result I was stammering and stumbling. Each time I had to correct myself I knew that I was interrupting the flow of my writing.

I read only the first page and then paused. I assumed that if they liked it they would ask to hear more. In the lull of silence that followed, I felt like I was lost in a parallel universe, waiting for time to exist again.

“It’s a good start.” Charlie nodded with a half-smile. My heart sank. Charlie was supposed to be my ace in the hole.

“It’s words strung together. Maybe if you worked at it a bit more.” Audrey’s nose was scrunched up with distaste.

“I think it has potential.” Ben sounded eager to please as he spoke. “You just need to give your characters a little depth.”

I felt a little sick to my stomach. It was not as if I had expected to be a brilliant writer off the bat, but I felt like the rest of the group was straining to be polite.

“It’s garbage.” Sheldon shook his head. “Who told you that you were a writer?”

“Sheldon!” Charlie glowered across the table at him. I blinked back the tears that threatened my eyes. It was embarrassing to be emotional at the wrong moments.

“It’s not garbage exactly.” Audrey corrected Sheldon. “It is content. It’s the type of thing that publishers might throw in the garbage—I think that’s what Sheldon is trying to say.”

“You should never be too presumptuous in your writing.” Charlie met my eyes with a calm smile.

“He means promiscuous,” Audrey interrupted.

“I do not—”

“He means pretentious,” Sheldon said.

“No, I don’t mean any of that.” Charlie stood up from the table and shook his head. “Look—the truth is that everyone has an opinion about writing, but none of these people are actually qualified to teach you how to write.”

“Writing cannot be taught,” Audrey said. She sounded a little smug as she ignored the rest of the group. “You either have it or you don’t.”

“That is completely untrue.” Charlie narrowed his eyes. He looked back at me and I felt relief for his sympathetic expression.

If it were up to the rest of the group I would have been sent home with my tail between my legs and my dreams of being a writer dashed. Charlie’s words were at the very least encouraging.

“All you need to write is passion and a good guide.”

“Do you really think so?” I was so nervous that I could barely string my words together.

“I know so.”

Audrey laughed a little. “Oh, sure, that will get you a publishing deal. Just make sure that you tell the publisher that you needed a little guidance. I’m sure that will build confidence in your skills.”

Audrey’s insults had gone from making me feel terrible to making me feel defiant.

“I can always self-publish. I’ve heard that’s very popular. Isn’t it?”

“Oh, she said the s-word.” Ben ducked his head down and covered it with his hands.

Sheldon curled his upper lip so high that I could see his teeth.

Audrey stared straight at me. “Real writers do not self-publish.” She spoke each word with measured sternness.

“I’ve read quite a few e-books and enjoyed them.” I shook my head. “I think it’s silly to try to fight so hard to be published when you can just do it yourself.”

“This is why you’re not a writer.” Audrey stood up from her chair. She still looked intimidating despite the coffee stain on her shirt. “You have no idea what it takes to truly write. A good writer labors over every single word until it’s perfect. I have rewritten a chapter over one hundred times and still not been satisfied with it. That is real writing.”

I stared at her with disbelief. I was fairly certain that if I had to rewrite the same thing that many times my computer would end up flying out the window.

“I’m sure that’s not the only way that someone can be a writer.” I frowned as I glanced away from her.

“Sure, anyone can call themselves a writer.” Audrey shrugged. “That doesn’t make you one.”

An entire tirade lingered on the tip of my tongue but as I looked at the people at the table I knew that it would have no impact on them. To them, I was a completely hopeless case and could never be on their level. I decided to take the high road and just leave.

“Well, I can see that I don’t belong here. Thanks for your time.” I stood up from the table and started to walk away.

Charlie followed after me. I paused beside the door and turned back to look at him.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t think this group is for me.”

“Don’t let them get to you. Their only claim to fame is their writing, so they try to make it impossible for anyone else to claim the same.”

“But you didn’t like my story either.”

“I did like it. I just think it needs work. It needs—more of you.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card. “Here. Go and see this woman. She’ll be able to help you.” He pressed the card against my palm as if it was the most sacred object that he could turn over to me.

“Thank you.”

He stared back at me intently and then nodded. Without another word he walked away.

Chapter 5

I hadn’t yet decided if Charlie was attractive or not, but one thing was certain, he was quite intriguing. I tucked the card away into my purse. When I pushed through the heavy glass door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, I was greeted by a misting rain. It was fitting for the experience that I’d just had.

I’d gone into the class hoping to discover my hidden talent, but had mostly just found that I didn’t like writers very much. Maybe I wasn’t the writer I thought I was. Audrey had been right. Anyone could write a blog and many people did, but there was such a draw to words for me. Speaking seemed like a much less effective way of communicating than writing. Even in my own thoughts I would often wander off on tangents that could easily fill a novel.

I walked to my car and unlocked it. I settled down behind the wheel, but I didn’t start the engine. I had built up the idea of the writing group so much in my mind, that leaving without actually getting what I hoped for was difficult.

There was, of course, still the card that Charlie had given me. I fished it out of my purse. It had a name and a phone number. There was nothing else to describe who the person was or what her profession might be.

“Estrella Lee.”

I tapped the card against my palm. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to risk another round of rejection. Shouldn’t it be enough that a group of writers wanted nothing to do with my lack of talent? As those words floated through my mind, I reminded myself of the bucket list.

The point of it was to grow as a person—to build my confidence and to push my boundaries. The thoughts I was having about myself were not exactly confident ones. I decided that if I wanted to be true to what I claimed to be doing, I had to call Estrella. It was the only way to be authentic.

I tapped the number into my phone. Then I held the phone up to my ear and held my breath. I had no idea if she was actually going to answer or whether I even wanted her to.

“Good evening.” Her voice sounded like it was an octave above a bullfrog and just as gravelly.

“Uh, hello. I’m trying to reach Estrella Lee.”

“You’ve reached her.”

“Estrella I’m sorry to bother you but a friend of mine gave me your card.”

“Is your friend my friend too?”

“I think so.”

“Well then, you are my friend as well.” Estrella’s voice grew slightly lighter. “How can I help you?”

“My name is Samantha and I’m just starting out as a writer. Charlie seemed to think that you could help me.”

“Charlie, huh? He is always very helpful. Tell me darling, are you really just starting out as a writer?”

“I’m not even sure what to call myself.”

“Oh, someone’s got you really turned around, huh? Come on over and we’ll fix that right up.”

I hung up the phone and drove to the address on the card. It was a small set of four apartments. Hers was on the bottom floor. I walked up to the door and knocked.

Estrella answered with a warm smile and gestured for me to step inside. I felt incredibly awkward alone with a stranger. She seemed nice enough, if not a bit eccentric. But what could she really do to help me with my writing?

“So tell me about yourself and your writing, Samantha.” She led me into a living room that also seemed to serve as an office.

“I love to write. Right now I have a blog, but I’ve started working on a novel as well.”

“Now I see the problem. You skipped the most important step.”

“What step?”

She leaned forward and smiled at me. I could see something like a sparkle in her eye.