My Life as a Terrible Author

My Life as a Terrible Author

By Dorian Paquette

Dedicated to anyone who at some point in their life has not felt fully sure of themselves.

Maple Leaf Writing Project

2017

Brattleboro, VT

Chapter One - An Opportunity

I run down the hall of Freeman Writing Co., tears streaming.

My name is Opus Stern, and I am a terrible writer. I think all my writing stinks. None of my work is good enough for me, so today when I had to show my new YA mystery to the people at FWC, I freaked out. I had met my deadline, but when I started to read my brand new copy of “The Case of the Faulty Ceiling”, a story I was writing about a strange old building that seems to be teeming with strange ghosts and other paranormal creatures of the night, that´s when I flipped.

I tear into my office on the second floor and lock the door. I just can’t meet my expectations of myself. I break down sobbing at my desk as the welcoming smell of slightly-burnt coffee grounds drifts from my coffee to my nose. My spirits lift the slightest bit. I glance up from my cozy spinning chair at the worn picture of the famous writing idol, Lena “Novella” Stevenson. .

Lena is one of my favorite authors. Her work is filled with action, and she always has new ideas that you would never think of. She is famous for writing such books as “The Secret Train Station” and “Family Robot”. She lives all the way on the other side of the country, in Hartford, CT.

Suddenly, a paper blows in my second-story window, wet with rain from the terrible weather here in Seattle. That’s funny, I don’t remember opening it. I pick up the paper and glance at it. Something about some Lena Stevenson. I throw it in the recycling.

Wait a minute. Lena Stevenson? I snatch the paper out of the recycling and take a look at it.

ATTENTION ADULT WRITERS!

GET THE CHANCE TO MEET LENA STEVENSON!

Next Saturday, meet at the library with a new manuscript for a short book for children! It can range from 15 to 50 pages!

The grand prize is a trip to Hartford, ct where you and 9 other authors will get a writing session with acclaimed author Lena Stevenson!

For more information, contact Hugh Stanley at FUN! Writing Studios at 555-1178

I gaze at the paper, amazed. If only I could be a better writer, and could actually face reading my book to the judges in person! Well, at least I can try. I whip out my computer and get to work.

~

After 20 minutes, I have the story outline ready for my entry Pigs in Peril, a story about 3 pigs that stumble across a gang of alligators one day while taking a walk by their favorite pond.

But before I can get to work, my editor pounds on my door. I jump up and slam my computer closed.

“LET ME IN!” he yells. I rush to the door and unlock it, then swing it open. He walks right past me and slams the manuscript on my desk.

“That was ABSOLUTELY no way to treat our editors. Now go down, apologize, and show them what you’ve done or you’re FIRED!”

“B-but..”

“NO BUTS! GO NOW! I MEAN IT!” He shoots. I get up and storm down the hallway and into the meeting room.

“What do you say?” My editor yells at me.

“I-I-I”

And that’s when I snap.

“You know what? You’re treating me like I’m your kid. Well I’m not an IDIOT! I know when I’m being treated unfairly. If you’re going to fire me, I’m fine, because at least I won’t have to wake up every morning knowing I’m going to be forced to write until the middle of the night, only to have my dreams crushed because I couldn’t meet one of your silly deadlines!”

Daggers fly from my editor’s eyes. “Out. Now. You have ten minutes to pack up your office” he screams.

I fly down the hall. I take only two minutes to pack up my station, then I run out of the building, crying, but also happy. I get into my Subaru and drive down the road, ignoring everything.

I pull into my driveway and slam the door. I run into my house and up to my study. I pull out my outline and get to work on Pigs in Peril. First I make their names, which are Humphrey, Sally, and Billy. Then there’s the alligator. How about something sinister like TOOTHY!!!!! Okay, kind of cheesy, but I still like it.

Then there is the town they live in. That’s Sunshine Town, and now I can start the book.

Chapter Two - A Contest

I wake up the next Saturday. I stand up and yawn. I grab my manuscript for Pigs in Peril. I fix two eggs sunny-side up, the way I like them. I then put on my overcoat, and run out to my car.

20 minutes later, I pull into the driveway of the library, hop out of my car, and run inside. I walk up 2 floors to the community room. There are 4 other writers already sitting at tables reading through their books.

I take a seat at an empty table and read the beginning of my story.

Pigs in Peril

By Opus Stern

“Friendship.” Humphrey pig said.

“That’s what really matters.”

Humphrey and his friends walked down Peppermint Lane.

Wham!

My head jolts up. The judge (hmm. I expected more than one.) is there and had slammed his gavel on the table. Why did the judge have a gavel?

I look around. It seems to only be me and 5 other people!

Yesss! I think. Now I’ll have a better chance at winning!

WHAM! “You! I thought I called attention!”

I look up again. The judge is staring at me. I sit up and clasp my hands together.

“Alright, please read your stories out loud. You first.” He points at me.

“Uh...well...ahem” Self-doubt washes through me.

“Read, please”

“‘Friendship’ Humphrey Pig said” I start. “‘That’s what really matters’”

-

I sit in the lobby of the library, waiting to hear the results. I rock back and forth, even though I’m not sitting in a rocking chair. Suddenly, the door swings open. The judge steps out, gavel in hand.(For some reason.)

“This has taken some time, but we have made our decision. The winner is…”

I tense in my seat, bracing for my inevitable loss. I look down and start getting mad at myself. Why did I ever join this contest?

“Opus Stern!!” Gavel judge says.

I get up to leave when I realize I just won. My eyes go wide and spots appear in front of my eyes. Suddenly everything goes black.

Chapter Three - A Plane Ride

I hop in a cab two weeks later, headed for the airport. The driver pulls off and we start towards the city, a couple miles away. As we pass my suburban house, I wave goodbye. 20 minutes later, we arrive at the airport just in time for me to get to my plane.

Following a lot of hustle and bustle, including an old lady refusing to put her baggage through the metal detector because she’s afraid she’ll be arrested for her collection of sharp metal objects, I get on the plane. As I sit down, the pilot announces we are about to start taxiing down the runway. I click my seatbelt in and we start to move.

I’m so nervous. What will happen when I meet Lena? Will she laugh that I was the winner who got to meet her? I don’t know if I could handle the disappointment of being laughed at by my idol. I nervously twiddle my thumbs.

We finally arrive at the airport and taxi to the airport gate. Suddenly, the woman sitting next to me leans over to me. ¨Are you Opus Stern? I just love your books!¨

I feel confused. How can she like my books if I worked at a small writing company? I just say “Yeah, thanks.”

A little while later I start feeling tired. I close my eyes and fall asleep.

~

When I wake up, I can see the ground. I was asleep for a long time! I think. I sit up straight.

We finally land. I get my baggage and walk off the plane. As I walk out of the tunnel I see a man standing on the other side of the hallway. He looks up and walks over to me.

“Opus Stern?” He says.

I straighten up. “Yes, sir, that’s me.”

“Taxi ride to meet Lena Stevenson?”

I straighten up even more. “Oh! That was already arranged for me? Yes, that would be me.”

We walk outside and hop into the man’s car.

“Back at the office we really like your books.” the man says as he starts the car.

“Thank you!” I say, happy to know that I am liked by some people. I feel a bit lighter about myself. Maybe I’m not that bad, I think.

“I was really excited to hear you won the chance.”

That’s strange. I don’t know this guy and he’s saying he likes my books? I think back to Freeman writing co. and how it was a sort of small company.

“You know my books?” I ask, confused at why he might be commenting on them. “I thought I was kind of just a local known author, not someone who’s books are known from Seattle to Hartford.”

“We have some good bookstores here.” he says.

.

Chapter Four - A Talk With Lena Stevenson

“Here we are!” he says, pointing up.

I look up. The doors of Jefferson Press are painted in psychedelic swirls and the building itself is bright red with books flying open and streams of words flying out. The lampposts outside have lights shaped liked inkwells and the lampposts themselves dip down into quill shapes. The banisters up the stairs to the door are pens and the steps erasers. But the best feature on the whole building is, painted in purple “‘Trains, planes, and boats can take you to any place you want to go, but books can take you anywhere you want to go.’ -Lena Stevenson”

I stare at the building as we walk up the stairs, but then we go through the door, and it looks like a regular office building. We walk towards a door labeled “Lena Stevenson” but it also has plenty of fun pictures on it too.

The man knocks on the door.

I freeze up.

The door opens.

It’s Lena Stevenson.

“Hi Opus!” She says. “Feel free to come right on in!”

I walk in and silently sit down in a chair. Outside the door I can hear “Thank you Bert for driving him over here. You know I’m on a big deadline right now.”

Then I realize who drove me here. Bert Chesley, another one of my favorite authors! And he said he really liked my books! My face curls into a smile.

Lena walks back in. “Would you like a coffee or anything?” she asks.

“Yes please.” I realize I haven’t had a coffee in a really long time.

Lena sits down and I realize I am meeting my hero, but a voice inside me says don’t freak out! Calm down Opus! But I can’t. I couldn’t wait for this moment, but now I realize how truly terrifying it is. My throat is dry, but I can’t even ask for water. I try to compose myself.

“I really like your books” I finally say.

“I really like yours too. You’re one of my favorite authors!” She says.

I freeze. What did she say? I feel speechless but I finally just manage an “Uh… Thanks.”

We end up talking about a lot of mystery and sci-fi and writing tips and other things until I ask “How are things here at Jefferson?”

She acts annoyed. “It’s not great. Our building may look cool but our editors are snobbish and conceited and barely any books can get past them. We consider it a miracle when a book is published here.”

“Freeman was like that too! Sometimes I wish I could just have my own company.” I say.

“Yeah.” She says in a kind of what-can-you-do voice. “Sometimes they don’t even let you appreciate your work. They make me feel like I should give up writing and become a farmer!”

“Wait a minute.” I say. “What if we could make our own writing company. We might not be as popular, but with someone like you or Bert doing it we could have a lot of publicity!”

“Yeah, but how will we afford an office building like this?”

“We wouldn’t need too. We could start small.” I say.

“Let’s do it.” She says.

~

A little while later, we’ve rounded up a few authors to start a company. We talk for a while about budget, and where to put it, and other things until I realize it’s time for me to go.

I pack up my stuff and start to walk out the door when Lena says “Opus?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a world of mystery out there.”

And I walk out the door, into a world of possibility.

Epilogue

Five years later, Stevenson-Stern Writing Co.

¨Burt says he'll be late to work today,¨ Lena says, walking into our 2-story building in Seattle.

¨Alright, that's okay.¨ I say back.

We started our new company a year ago. We ditched Freeman and Jefferson and bought a building in Ballard, Seattle and now have 18 writers working for us, including Bert, Lena and me. Stevenson-Stern was a slap in the face to Jefferson, and they washed off the paint and now it looks like another boring office building.

Bert, Lena and I decided to hire only editors who would be strict to the rules, but also fun to be around and nice about their edits. The other workers took a vote and unanimously decided the three of us should be the editors.

I now have what I always wanted, and it's all because of Pigs in Peril. And now, with my dreams accomplished, I can finally finish this. My best story of all.

THE END

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