The Write Stuff

When should success take a back seat in our busy lives?

Contest Prompt

"The Writer's Cramp" Write a story or poem about a writer who just doesn't want to stop writing.'

“Would you stop it?” Amantha slapped her husband’s hand. “We’re at my boss’s dinner party. I won’t have you showing off your bad manners.”

Henry Adams couldn’t stop it. “Sorry. I had to get that idea down before it slipped my mind.” He slid his notepad and chewed up piece of pencil into his pocket before his wife could snatch it.

“You’ve been working on that novel for two years. It’s all you think about,” Amantha hissed. “Can’t you give it a break for once and help me get my promotion? This is important to me.”

She had gotten Henry a part time job stocking holiday sales stuff in the company warehouse. Amantha had pulled a few strings for that bit of finesse. It had come to her attention that Henry was scribbling down notes for his novel even there.

Amantha hadn’t had time to confront him yet, but the storm clouds had formed over her head. “So this is Henry,” Mel Adams, CEO, came up to shake hands. Amantha’s boss patted him on the back. “I appreciate those written tips on how to make our warehouse procedure more streamlined, son. I hear you wouldn’t take the full time offer with double the pay I offered?”

“Sorry, sir. Nothing personal. I actually like working there. I just need the extra time to work on my great American novel. It’s nearly done. I’ve got a new publisher who’s ready to roll with it.”

Amantha’s jaw dropped to the floor. So Henry hadn’t had time to tell her this life changing event? Why not?” Her storm cloud was now dripping fire.

“Well. A self made man. I’m one myself. I’d like to get to know you better. Feel free to come visit when you get a chance.” Mel nodded absently at Amantha and went on to say hello to other guests.

Feeling lost in the shuffle of her boss’s attention, Amantha found it even hard to breathe much less talk.” The glare she gave Henry could have melted the North Pole.

“I guess you didn’t read the note I left on your pillow. You’ve been so rushed I don’t blame you,”

Henry started to finish when Amantha found her voice, “Blame me! I’m not the one who did anything wrong. You just prevented me from getting my promotion. Now, I’ll be stuck in the same boring position I’ve held for years.”

“Wait a sec,” Henry said, lifting his cellphone to his ear, swerving his body so Amantha couldn’t grab it away. “Yeah. Tell Random House Publishing I agree to their offer. It was my editor. Let’s read the note showing how much they’re willing to pay.”

A few finger dabs later, the astonishing amount glared back in Amantha’s face. “There’s more coming. They want a sequel, a series if I get the second one done on time. I’ll have to quit the warehouse job.” Henry waited. Things could go either way.

Amantha felt like a deflated balloon. She’d hurriedly read the note about Henry wanting to quit his job and how he wanted time to explain why, but that had only added fuel to her fire. “We’ve never talked about my quitting if things worked out for you, but I think I’ve hinted enough.”

“Yes!” The word exploded out of Henry’s mouth, causing nearby champagne glasses to create small waves. “You’ve always wanted to start your own business. Now’s your chance.”

Amantha couldn’t wait. “Henry? Write a note. Tell Mel Adams I’m giving my two weeks notice, then let’s leave. You can start writing your second novel while I start setting up shop.”

When Henry came back after delivering her news, Amantha leaned close to give him a hug. “Make a note that we have to start giving each other some time just by ourselves at the end of the day. We’ll need it to help each other decompress and share our dreams.”

“Done!” Henry said, taking out his notepad and scribbling away. It would be a good reminder when things got too hectic in days to come. He kept writing, inspired by the idea of how he could keep his wife as a leading character in his second novel. His editor liked the conflict Henry had generated in the first draft.

"I'll drive." Amanda got out her set of keys. she nibbled on her lower lip tasting the sense of freedom the moment offered. "What are you writing now?"

"I'll share tonight during our 'Us' time." He'd catch her when she'd settled down. Henry hoped Amantha would appreciate hearing how she'd inspired his Opus. He'd gone over the top with her character with the prodding by his editor. Whenever he'd gotten a hint of writer's block, he could count on pushing one of Amantha's triggers. How he loved each and every one.

"What are you smiling about. Talk to me while you're writing. You can do that, can't you?"

"I've never seen you so happy. It's a whole new side of you to explore. You've got this sense of extra drive that has your eyes dancing. I thought I might use it in my writing." There. A hint. Enough to take the edge off when she finds out the series will be about her? Change of name, of course.

Henry got writing.

WC 750