Page 21 of The Write Off

Jesus, man. Be professional.

Suddenly, the hallway is too warm and I shrug out of my wool coat, setting it down on the floor before cautiously crouching down to join her. It’s awkward, considering my size. I’m still a bit confused as to why we’re sitting out here and not inside her apartment where there is, presumably, furniture.

“How are the mage revisions coming along?” I ask once I’ve made myself comfortable. Or as comfortable as I can be on a cold, hard floor.

“Fine,” she answers quickly. Too quickly.

“Great. And the elven revolu–”

“I’m struggling.” There’s something different about the way she says it. It’s her usual bluntness, but it’s lacking her trademark confidence. I watch her, sitting cross-legged, picking absentmindedly with a frayed edge on her jeans.

“Completely normal. Many of the writers I’ve worked with find this to be the most difficult part of the process.”

“I’ve been writing since I was in high school. It’s always come so easily. Ideas flowed freely, storylines were seamless, dialogue basically wrote itself. I wrote all these books–” she pauses, her eyes flitting to mine, “I mean pages, and it never felt like work. And now it does. The changes I need to make everyone happy feel forced, and I’m worried that the writing will, too.”

There’s a vulnerability I haven’t seen in her before. She’s been nothing but a fireball of confidence since I met her and the change is startling. Her head rests against the door behind her and her shoulders sag, revealing the toll this is taking on her. I find myself wanting to ease her burden, and not just for the sake of our professional relationship. “Your writing is excellent, Rilla.” Mistrust clouds her expression like she’s waiting for me to deliver the punchline. “You have to know that. Do you think publishers would waste their time if it wasn’t? You seem to be taking any criticism of your work as a criticism of your writing and that’s simply not the case. You’ve already hit it out of the park. The rest is just you running the bases.”

“The man loves his sports references,” she mutters, but I see the smallest of smiles on her lips. “Do you follow any sports, or just use their terminology to prove your point when it suits you?”

“I follow most of them, actually,” I admit.

“Is it because you like the little matching outfits they wear?”

“I find them all interesting in their own way. Each one has a unique framework and clearly defined rules and regulations. Then you take that structure and add in athleticism, technique, strategy, and often luck.” I look up to find Rilla looking at me incredulously. “And some of the uniforms are really nice.”

She laughs again, leaning her head back against her apartment door. I don’t mention that I always associate sports with my brother. When I finally caught up to him in height, it was the first time I remember being on equal footing with him in anything.

“Is your family okay?” Rilla asks, as if reading my mind.

“Pardon?”

“You said you had a family emergency. Is everyone okay?”

I did say that in my message, I realize. I’ve always strived to keep what little of a personal life I have separate from my professional one. It feels odd to talk about my family with a colleague.

“Emergency may have been a strong word. I was watching my niece and nephew for my sister-in-law. They got sick and their childcare…fell through. I ended up keeping them for the night.”

“How old are they?”

“Travis is nine and Anna is seven.”

“Are they feeling better?”

“Yes,” I chuckle dryly. “They ate crackers, drank flat soda, and watched a Spider-Man movie.”

“Nice! What one?” Her smile is so bright it almost blinds me. I’m not used to her smiling at me, but I’d like to be.

“Across The Spider-Verse.”

“I loved that one! Even more than the first. That cliffhanger, though…”

“Yeah,” I admit. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“So good.”

This is also good. At this moment I’m more at ease around her than I’ve ever been. And I suspect the feeling is mutual. It feels as though one of her many walls has come down. Perhaps one of mine has as well.

“Well, I have a lot to get done before work later.” She pops up to standing with no difficulty at all while I clamor awkwardly to my feet.

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