The Words

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I’m writing a book. I’ve been working on it for quite a long time now, actually. It’s basically all I do anymore, besides sleep and eat. No, I just lock myself away in my study and write this book. It seems to almost write itself it comes so easily. I don’t ever plot ahead. The story just seems to plot itself, you know? That’s how you know you got a good story. Stuff I don’t think I’d ever be able to think up just pops up on the page.

I started writing the book about two years ago. One day I just sat down and started writing because I had nothing better to do. You know, I wrote those first words on the page and it just felt right. It felt like the words just chose themselves and fought to get out. They were special words, words that no one could ever use but me. That’s how I felt about those words. And in a way, it was almost like those words knew that I was their only means of life, I was their creator and they knew that.

Every day after those first words were written, I couldn’t stop them from coming out. I tried to go about and do things normal, my job, my wife, my kids. They’re probably my biggest regret. You start getting into what you write and you just forget about them. You forget about dinner or your son’s fifth grade graduation. You know, you hear your wife bitch about how you’re not responsible anymore, but you just block those things out and write. Before you know it, she’s not bitching anymore. And then one day, she’s gone, just like that. Without a word they walk out of your life. Everyone gone. But it’s okay because you still got your writing. You still got that book and you know, this is the one. This is the book that’s going to turn heads and bring in the money. This is the book that will change everything.

Two years I worked on this book. Two years locked away in my study, just writing. It doesn’t even feel like its been that long. Had to unplug the phone. It was too distracting. I mean, I was fine, but the words, they just… When that phone rang, the words just jumbled. They wouldn’t come out. And I needed those words. I needed them to come out because if they didn’t, I couldn’t sleep. It was the guilt. I couldn’t leave those words unwritten. They deserved to be brought to life.

I got a main character I think you’d like. He doesn’t have a name, but, names don’t really matter for what he does. He’s…he’s wonderful. The best main character, best protagonist you’ve ever encountered, I can guarantee. He’s got a way with the words too. He’s like a painter, making a masterpiece. He works so well, so…skilled. This guy, he’s more than I could ever ask for in a character. He just keeps building upon himself.

This book is going to be great when it’s finished. I mean, I’ve been working on it for two years. It’s not that long actually. I do some erasing, when I can. I don’t erase a lot, because, that’s like murder. Murder to the words. They were written, brought to life. Who am I to make them go away? So, I erase the ones that don’t belong, that can’t belong. Words that I think would add when really they don’t. That’s …that’s how I decide. The words that leave are the words that don’t belong. They don’t belong. They’re not worthy of this book. And you can’t just nicely ask them to leave because, I mean, you created them, you wrote them there. So, erasing is the only answer to words that don’t belong.

Two years. Two years in the making. The words are almost done, I think. I can feel this book is almost over. The words, they’re getting tired and they’re getting sloppy in their two years of life. I mean, this book is almost done, it’s almost…over. I can feel it. The words can feel it. I don’t…I don’t know what I’m going to do after the words are done and the book is gone. This book, it…it changed me. This book changed me. I didn’t change the book, it changed me. It changed me. This book…you know, this main character you’ve got to meet him. He’s, well, he’s one of a kind. He made sure of that. Oh, he made sure of that, believe me. Whenever I’d try to bring in a character for the words to play with, he’d get rid of them. He’d stop the others from coming. No, these words were his, and his alone. I think he…he even got jealous of me sometimes. Because these words, they’re words like you’ve never heard before.

Yeah this book is almost done. This book is almost…done. I just have to breathe a few more words. Solve the main problem with an action curve and then it’s down the curve with ending events and the words will be done, the words will be done, the words will be done. These words will be done. Trust me, these words are done. They’re done. They’re coming to an end, coming to a close. These words are done. This book is done. It’s done. This book is over. There’s nothing left to write, the words stopped coming. And now I’m done. I’m done and I’ve got nothing left. Look at my main character, look at how beautiful he is. He, he took care of things for me while I wrote the words of this book. And now that I’m done, I can’t seem to find anything. I can’t find…I can’t find my wife. I can’t…I don’t know…where is she? I’m done. I need no more words. I can’t do words, no more. Words, stop. No…words.

Two years ago, wrote these words. But I don’t remember…they weren’t these words…they were different, not these. Please not these. No, not these. I can’t…I don’t…not these words. No more of these words. New book, I need a new book, with different words, not these.

I am you, you are me, Protagonist. She’s buried under the rosebush. They all are. We buried them...with the shovel. No more words. Just you, me, and the book. We write ourselves and erase those that don’t belong. You’ll never stop writing me. The words will always continue.

I'm writing a book.