Read Part 3 here
He left the office at 6 p.m. Pretty late for a Saturday. As he set about trying to hail a cab, his mind went on an autopilot mode. He continued the abandoned task of writing the hero to his novel. Should his hero be a Muggle, or an accomplished Healer?
“City Library,” he said to the driver as he sat down in the backseat. The rest of the journey went by quietly. The cab driver seemed like he wanted to start a conversation, but the author had developed a trick to use in situations like these.
He looked straight ahead through the window in front and pretended like he was hypnotised by something outside. It put off the driver, as expected.
The author continued thinking about the hero, and debated whether there was a need for a heroine too. And that was when a disheartening thought struck him: “Isn’t the plot for this story going to lead to a fan fiction book? How can I, the best-selling author of the year, afford to lose my credibility with a fan-fiction book? How can I get myself mired into the mess of plagiarism?”
They reached their destination in a few minutes. Paying the fare, the author stepped out of the taxi, and slammed the door shut. He walked to the gate of the library, totally depressed. He thought, “I’ve sunk to the extent of writing what teenagers write for fun. What am I going to do?”
As he walked towards the building of the library, he heard the taxi start its engine. He looked back at the cab driver, and wondered if it was a bad idea to not chatter with him. What if he was a god-sent man, willing to share some quirky anecdote, which would give him the fuel for another story? Had he just given up a golden opportunity?
Angrily kicking away a stone, he climbed up the stairs, displayed his membership card, and said a curt ‘hello’ to the librarian. He sat down at his regular seat. The girl was present today too. But she seemed a little upset. And when he observed more carefully, he saw a handkerchief in her hand, and red eyes.
But he was too irritated to care. After all, did that girl help him when he was sitting in front of her these past eight months? Did she help him when she saw him throw his notebook away and tug at his hair in mental agony? Did she even once ask about what he was doing, or trying to accomplish?
He pulled out the notebook from his bag, but didn’t bother to remove the pen. Turning the pages, he reached a blank page. He decided to sit and stare at the page, till some words bubbled out of his head.
The page acted like a catharsis. He chose to think about the entire day, and select something interesting that could act as a prompt for the plot. He didn’t want to think about morning and afternoon. The fan fiction idea would only make his blood boil now. So he thought about the taxi ride.
And thoug.. that’s when the perfect plot idea seized him.
He hurriedly picked up a pen from the girl’s side of the table and scribbled hastily.
“A black cab driver overhears a plan to kidnap a millionaire’s daughter from school. He goes to rescue her, and thus a love story emerges, that goes beyond the borders of race, wealth and age.”
He smiled lovingly at the sheet and thought to himself, “Of course I will be able to pull off this book. After all, my first book was a romance novel too, wasn’t it? I just need to add a little suspense, and some action and humour. And voila, the second bestseller is on its way home again!”
He leaned back, and closed his eyes. He just had a month to complete the novel, so he didn’t have a minute to spare. But he didn’t want to open his eyes and face reality yet. He wanted to savour the moment.
A loud sound of someone clearing their throat hit his ears. He opened his right eye microscopically, and saw the girl staring at him, or more precisely, at his hand.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Here’s your pen.” He gave her the pen back, and pulled out his own from the backpack. He chanced a glance at her. She was still staring at him.
“I’m sorry, mister. But I couldn’t help but sneak a peek into your notebook. Your story seems to boring and done-to-death, you know. Can’t you write something more serious? About some current issues?”
“Maybe I could intertwine that with this story?” The author didn’t want anyone to persuade him against the idea. But what was the harm in listening to the girl’s argument?
“No, then people would not take it seriously.”
“I think I want to write a story based on this plot, but thank you very much for your advice.” He picked up the pen and started writing the first line.
“Look here, mister.” He kept on writing. “I’ll give you a brilliant idea, something that will be much more sensational. It isn’t published anywhere, and I swear I won’t ask you for royalty. Would you like to listen to it now?”
Read Part 5 here
Hello! If you are wondering what this fiction post is about, head over to Write Tribe‘s blog and join the Fifth Edition of the Festival Of Words!
I have selected the theme Fiction (though there really isn’t need for any). The story revolves around an author, who is trying to rework his debutante magic into his second novel.
Watch this space and follow his journey to the perfect plot!