Page 45 of Sing it, Sam

Chapter Sixteen

“How are we all going?” Hannah says, opening up the discussion.

I slouch farther down in my chair at our usual spot in the café and try to think of something worthwhile to say. The din of the Saturday crowd doesn’t help foster my concentration. I’m not a contributing member of this writers’ group. I’m a fraud, really.

As Janice harps on about an argument she’s had with her new editor, I’m still thinking about Sam and that kiss yesterday. Sam had nothing but encouraging words to say when I told him about my writing—just one more reason to like him. He barely knows me, yet he believes I can do it.

“She said I should scrap like three chapters!” Janice blurts out. “I mean, I’m sorry, love, I’ve been writing romance for almost a decade. I’d won three RWA writing awards probably before she went through puberty.” Janice scoffs, looking around the table. “I’d like to think that I know what I’m talking about.”

Wow. If I’m lucky enough to finish a book, and have an editor helping to get it to be as perfect as it could be, I’d be happy to take the advice. I mean, they’re the experts, right?

Nan always spoke fondly of her editing team. I’m sure someone doesn’t get a job as an editor just like that. They’d have to have studied and be suitably qualified.

“Yeah, well sometimes brutal honesty is what you need,” Hannah says. “Sometimes you get lost in the words and deviate too far from the story. When I got beta feedback for my last novella, I cut half the book and pretty much started again. Best decision I ever made.”

Janice huffs and crossed her arms beneath her bust. An awkward silence hangs between us.

“Well I finally got my groove back,” Leonie says. “Hit ten thousand words withLong-Lost Lovers.”

“That’s awesome,” I offer for encouragement.

“So happy for you,” Britt says. “Did you take my advice?” she asks with a cheeky wink.

“Yeah, the oils and everything were perfect. I think taking a bit of downtime with Matt was what was needed. That man sure knows how to work that mouth of his when he wants to.”

I clear my throat. Well okay then. I’ll be addingLong-Lost Loversto my to-be-read pile.

“What about you, Hannah?” Leonie asks.

Hannah bites down on her lower lip and then releases it. “Well, things are coming along with my new romantic suspense. I’m making good process. I was a little stuck with some technical stuff, but as a result of the other night, I’m worried I’m now on some kind of ‘watch list’.”

Watch list?Oh, man.

“What did you do, H?” Britt asks in a disappointed motherly tone.

Hannah shrugs and holds out her hands, palms facing up. “Well, with my online search history, I’m probably already on one, but the other night I kind of bailed up a young constable.” She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. A deep pinkish hue surfaces on her cheeks.

Leonie cracks up with laughter. I lean in closer, eager to find out what happened between her and the cop.

“It’s not funny, girls,” Hannah says through a soft chuckle. “I’ve been struggling with a couple of things and couldn’t find answers online. The other night I’d ran out of cat food, and so I went to the corner store, probably looking like an extra fromThe Walking Dead. I literally bumped into a policeman. While he was helping me pick up the tins I’d dropped, I thought it was an opportune time to ask him some questions. I’d been cooped up all day, battling with plot-holes, so it was like a sign, us being there at that place and time. And I thought, why not? Ask the man what’s on your crazy-arse mind.”

“And?” Leonie prompts, shifting forward on her seat and resting her elbows on the table, her hands supporting her head.

“Let’s just say after my barrage of questions about kidnapping and hostage situations, he took down my name in his pocket notebook, and then wanted to arrange a follow-up discussion with his partner when he was back on shift. When I told him I was an author, I don’t think he believed me. He probably thought I had a mental illness and was pretending to be an author to make my enquiries somehow legitimate.”

“Please call me next time you’re thinking about leaving your house.” Leonie winks at Hannah.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hannah smiles.

Leonie turns to face me, flicking her long hair over her shoulder. “How ’bout you, Jane? Anything exciting happening with your whip?”

I tilt my head to the side. “My whip?” I don’t even own a whip. Sure, I know how to crack one, Dad taught me well, but how did the conversation turn like this?

“As in, work in progress,” Janice blurts out. “W-I-P.”

“Oh, of course,” I reply, and shake my head as if I knew that but just had a slip in concentration.Amateur moment, right there. “Not quite as exciting as Hannah’s. I’ve had trouble focusing this week. We lost a resident yesterday. Kind of brought back feelings from when I lost my nan.”

“You should take the positive out of this, Jane,” Janice says, as if I should be thinking rationally.

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