Page 65 of The Write Off

Rilla places her hands on her hips and grins at me. “With that important matter settled, who’s ready to lose at Mario Kart?”

Chapter 32

Rilla

Editing can be a very fulfilling and satisfying process. One where, upon further examination, you see weaknesses that weren’t visible to you before. Plot holes, once hidden, jump off the page and practically solve themselves.

And sometimes, editing is a never ending fiery circle of self-doubt and loathing where creativity goes to die.

I’m currently living in the latter version. The changes Logan and I made to Of Cinder And Sand undoubtedly made it better, but it means a full revision to check the consistency for the second part of the story.

And that’s fine; it’s not like I don’t have the time, considering everyone except Logan thinks I’m writing this from scratch.

Of Ash And Thorns will be darker than the first in the series. There are more battles and casualties, but with the initial world building out of the way, the story progresses more quickly. Certain characters will have their true motivations revealed and new alliances will be formed. I personally think it’s even more exciting than the previous book and I hope Thompson And Daye and their readers feel the same.

Logan is currently doing an alpha read of the book. He’s not making notes yet, but he has been texting me reactions. A couple of his texts actually had exclamation marks, something he’s never used in texts to me before.

I’m trying to stay focused on the task at hand, but I, like the elven warriors in the Galilvian forests, am fighting a losing battle. If inspiration is evading me, I’ll change tactic to distraction. I set my laptop aside and am on my way to the kitchen to make another coffee when there is a knock at the door.

“Thai?” Josh asks when I open the door. He holds the takeout bag directly under my nose like I’m less likely to refuse it if I smell it.

I open the door wider and he enters, hesitantly. The man knows I couldn’t pass up a noodle dish if my life depended on it.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your writing.” I follow his gaze to where my open laptop sits on the couch as we make our way to the kitchen table.

“I was about to take a break anyway,” I admit, opening the fridge and grabbing us each a beer.

“How is it going?” He sits stiffly at the table. Under normal circumstances, I’d tell him he looks like he’s just come from a colonoscopy that went horribly wrong. But circumstances haven’t been normal between us for weeks. A horrible thought occurs to me. What if this is our new normal? What if, after all is said and done, Josh and I are never the same?

“It’s going pretty well. The edits on book one have been approved and I’m making good progress on the second book.” Steam from the square takeout container heats my finger and I grab a pair of chopsticks from the bag while I wait for it to cool down. “How are you?”

“I hate this, Rilla.” He pushes his food away from him and slumps in his chair. “I can’t keep making polite conversation with you like you’re a distant relative, or someone I went to school with that I haven’t seen in ten years. Can you please just yell at me so we can fix this?”

“I don’t want to yell at you, Josh.” I got over my anger towards my brother weeks ago, but still I couldn’t figure out how to move past it. “I’m not mad at you.”

“You should be. I was an asshole when you told us about you and Logan.”

“You were,” I admit. “But it’s not like you said anything I wasn’t already thinking.”

“That’s not the point. I’m your big brother. I’m supposed to shut down the bullies, even when they’re the ones in your head. Especially then. I’m not supposed to give them a megaphone and join in. I’m sorry.” I know he means it. As frustrated as I’ve been with him, I know Josh would never hurt me on purpose. “I talked to Logan last week. I…do you really feel like I treat you like a fuck-up?”

My first instinct is to deny it and make him feel better. But I know now that pushing down my feelings doesn’t make them go away and lying gets me nowhere.

“Sometimes,” I hedge. “A lot of times, yes. I’m not saying I haven’t given you good reason to in the past. I know I was a human hurricane when we were younger, but I have grown up a lot since then.” I draw my knees into my chest, hugging them tightly against me. “I know I act like I don’t care what people think of me, and for the most part that’s true. But I care about what you think. And Mom and Dad.”

“I’m insanely proud of you, Rilla. You wrote a book!”

“Six books, actually.” I smirk at his blank stare. “I’ve written the entire series already.”

“Seriously? Holy shit, Rill, that’s incredible! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because imposter syndrome is a cold-hearted bitch that lives rent-free in my head. I spent all this time and energy writing these books and I don’t know if people are going to read them. And if they do read them, there’s no guarantee that they’ll like them.”

He tosses a spring roll into his mouth and chews it while appearing to mull over what I’ve said. “Well, I mean, yeah. Not everyone is going to like the book. Do you like every book you read?”

“No.”

“Does that make them bad books?”

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