Chapter 13 - Writing

Monday, October 5th

“Now what?” Jane looked at me expectantly as we left the news station.

“I think I’ll write the book I’ve always wanted to write.”

“Science fiction, if I remember correctly?”

“No, it ought to be fantasy.”

“How is that connected to us being treated like two senile coots by the news station?”

“This way, I’ll get the news out about our magical powers without being called a kook.”

“That might work. But you don’t have any experience writing fiction.”

“Huh. I wrote executive reports as a project manager. That’s half-fiction. And I’ve read hundreds of sci-fi and fantasy novels. I’ve always wanted to write a novel.”

She laughed. “I love you, you nut. But why don’t you write sci-fi, since that’s your favorite?” We got into our car.

“I don’t see how I can write sci-fi about all this bizarre magical stuff that’s happened to us. It’s got to be based on science. I know you read a lot of fantasy and I’ve read some. It seems it’d be easier to write if I didn’t have to worry about any rules.”

“I have some good ideas for your book. And so does the news. Haven’t you read about all the people with their pants catching on fire?”

“I avoid the news. It’s too depressing. How were their pants catching on fire?”

“They were lying. Listen to this story.” Jane picked up her phone and began reading:

“Mayor Beauregard had told his security detail, ‘Please don't send the personal fire brigade again,’ before his latest speech.

“’Are you sure sir?’ His security guard said. He looked worried. ‘They come highly recommended.’

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

"’I'm positive!’ The mayor snapped. He straightened his lapels and combed his flowing hair. ‘I can handle myself.’

“At the news conference, Mayor Beauregard had just said, ‘There is no need to worry about inflation’ when his trousers burst into flames. His aide doused him with a pitcher of ice water and he was out a pair of trousers.”

I smiled. “Exciting. I like just desserts.”

“Don’t you see, Jake, this is just like our walking teacups?”

“Um, no. How are they connected?”

“Obviously, someone wished this to happen.”

“I don’t see how you got there, but I can imagine someone wishing that on politicians.”

“Oh, it’s more than politicians. Lawyers, newscasters PR reps, and news commentators have also been set ablaze.”

“Maybe I need to read some news. No sense in writing fantasy if it’s already fact.”

“Or you can extend the news stories into the realm of fantasy.”

“I like how you think! If I exaggerate things enough, they’ll become funny. Funny fantasy is my favorite!”

Back at home, I began writing by researching weird things in the news. There were a lot of them. Someone claimed to have seen a flying pink dragon in Chicago. A guy on Viewtube said his dog talked to him and could read. A minivan was seen in Cleveland with four flapping wings. Then there were hundreds of people bursting into flame. And that was just in the US.

Worldwide, China said dragons had appeared and and were ravaging the country. Ireland was overrun with leprechauns, while fairies romped in England. Djinns appeared in the Middle East. It seemed almost too much to write about.

But even worse was, I wasn’t sure how I could exaggerate the news any more than it already was. I wrote down all the things that I had read about, trying to brainstorm. Then I went one step beyond. What if politicians told the truth? No one would believe that was real. How would diplomacy happen? “I’ve got it! Eureka!”

“What are you yelling about?” Jane asked as she brought a cup of coffee into my office. Our Victorian home had a corner tower. The first floor had a round room for a reading nook with bookshelves and a dark green velvet bench following the curved wall. The second floor held my office, with my computer and a desk. The three tower windows looked out at our oak tree and the street.

I’d toyed with the idea of remodeling our porch roof into a second-story balcony from our bedroom. We could then have a walkway to the tree and build a treehouse. Maybe someday.

“Are you going to answer me? Why were you yelling?”

“Oh, I was woolgathering, thinking about making a tree house. I have the fantasy theme for my novel: a world where politicians tell the truth.”

“Wow, that’d be fantasy all right. I like it. I can hardly wait to read it.”

“I can hardly wait to write it.” I kissed her. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“When can I bother you again?” Jane said with a smile.

“Any time, of course.”

“How about after the cinnamon rolls are done? It’ll be an hour.”

“I’m sure I’ll be hungry by then. I should have the first chapter done.”

“Ready. Set. Go!” Jane ran out of the room.