Too much fiction

I thought I'd write a story
A little fiction piece
A break from all that poetry
It'd spill out, slick as grease

I created a snowboarder
Age seventeen, named Guy
Good looking and athletic
And gave Romance a try

It was a sweet, simple yarn
He meets a clever girl
Offers her a ski jacket
While his head begins to whirl

The story wound up quickly
I sat back, satisfied
Remembering his snowboard
My backseat writer cried

"You cannot just abandon this
Put the first one in your port
Then write another story
About the subject Sport

So I wrote Guy dreaming
He was a champion
And awoke to find it true.
"There! My story's done."

But I was prodded to write Crime
So he burst into a bank
Caught some wily robbers
Now that tale's in the tank

My pushy backseat writer
Demanded a Mystery
Drama, followed by ChickLit
Plus Ancient History

My backseat writer said "Adventure!"
My poor snowboarder sailed
On a sea filled with pirates
"Please,no more!"he wailed.

We diverted to a Children's tale
To give poor Guy a rest
Combined with a Nature theme
Using ducklings in a nest

Then tried him in Travel
Deep in the Amazon
Discovering rare species
Weary, he still stumbled on

At Supernatural, he balked
And climbed out my head
Dragging my backseat writer,
Yelling "find someone else, instead!"

Now the two of them are friends
And I'm their great nemesis
I've returned to writing poems
'Cause I just don't need this.