“Delia, book three is due back with final edits this week. Are you even close?”
I sighed and banged my head against the wall. Lisa was not going to let me off the hook. I’d been struggling with the most recent round of edits because they wanted me to change things that I knew were right. The hardest part about writing a book series based on the vivid dreams I’d been having for years was having someone else tell me they should be different.
“Look, I’ll have the edits back to you before the deadline, but I can’t guarantee they’ll be what you’re hoping for.”
I could practically hear her silently counting to ten on the other end of the line. We’d gone back and forth on this same subject with each book I finished. For the first book, they insisted that I make the Great Alchemist a powerful sorceress who created Riona with a magic spell; I wouldn’t budge. In the next book, they wanted me to make Riona a kingdom rather than a queendom; I insisted that it remain as I’d written it. Now, they wanted a romance to bloom between the princess and the guard who took her from her castle. It wasn’t meant to be part of the story. The princess was young and her parents had just been crushed to death by the Gorum. If I wrote in a romance at that point of the story, it would make the princess look weak and the guard look like a pig. In my dreams, I knew Taeren. He was a kind and gentle young man. He would never take advantage of the young princess who so closely resembled me.
“Okay Delia, but only because your first two books are still selling like hot cakes. If the readership begins to fall, you’re going to have to start making some changes.”
I agreed and hung up the phone. I pulled up my email and hit send on the final draft. I’d had the email typed up and ready to go, but I wasn’t going to send it until she knew I wasn’t going to make the changes they were asking for.
My third book made me nervous. It was the last book that I had dreams and journals already written for. Now, I would need to rely solely on my imagination to create the story so many seemed to be taken with.
In the three years that had passed since I moved in with Paula, I had done nothing but write and attend college. I got my GED while in the care of the hospital, and went on to pursue a degree in Creative Writing. At twenty, I had become the bestselling author of an epic fantasy series. Now, as I approached twenty-one, I was staring down the barrel of a book to movie conversion that gave me panic attacks.
I still attended counseling sessions twice per week, but the doctor took me off the anti-psychotics. They felt I’d overcome that time in my life and just needed to be monitored for any relapse that would warrant additional medication. I felt normal. I still had no memories of my childhood other than those delivered to me in dream form. Riona wasn’t real, but it was all I knew of my life before the hospital. There was no way to explain it to anyone but Paula, but in my heart, I still felt a real connection to the fantasy world my brain had created to cope with whatever trauma I’d encountered as a child.
My phone rang again. I groaned as I grabbed it to stop the irritating bleat of the tone I set for Lisa. I had just hung up with her, why was she calling me again?
“Hello?”
“Delia! Do you remember how I told you we were working on organizing a reading and signing at More Than Words?”
“Yeah?” More Than Words was a massive, trendy book store. It was nearly impossible for newer authors, no matter their bestselling status, to schedule an event at any of their locations.
“We got in! I just had to call you and let you know. Apparently, the event coordinator is a huge fan of yours and wants you to have your release party at their flagship store here in NYC.”
My heart leapt to my throat. “When?”
“Release day!”
We were planning to release the book in three months, so that didn’t give me much time to get over the freak out. I was trying to be calm about the whole thing, but the excitement was welling up inside me. Somehow, this event validated my career. I wasn’t just a confused little girl with a journal anymore. I was a writer.
“What now?” My voice was barely above a whisper.
“Now, we finish this book and prepare for the biggest event of your career.”
For hours after we hung up, my heart beat wildly within my chest. I waited impatiently for Paula to return home so I could share my news with someone. Other than Paula, I had no one to share this triumph with. A momentary flash of a memory resurfaced as I saw the face of my father. It hadn’t struck me until that moment how utterly alone I truly was.
Time flew by quickly. Before I knew it, release day was upon me and I was putting on a fancy dress for the signing event. I was much more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, but Lisa insisted that I dress appropriately. I had yet to determine what was inappropriate about my Journey t-shirt, but I didn’t argue. A knock on my bedroom door alerted me to Paula’s timely arrival. I told her to come in and held my breath, waiting for her reaction to my somewhat revealing neckline.
“Wow.”
“That’s all you’ve got?” I challenged her reaction.
“You look breathtaking.” Paula gestured for me to turn full circle.
“It’s not too much? I feel like it’s a bit...well, it’s not really me.”
She nodded in understanding. “It’s a far cry from your everyday wardrobe, but it is definitely eye-catching. Did Lisa send this over?”
It was my turn to nod. The dress wasn’t ugly, it was actually quite lovely. I just wasn’t into dresses and being ladylike. I eyed the high-heels that were still sitting on the floor. There was no way I was going to be able to walk in those. Paula seemed to notice my apprehension and quickly retreated down the hallway without a word. I peeked out of my bedroom, unsure as to the reason behind her sudden retreat. When she returned bearing a box that looked suspiciously like a shoebox, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was another pair of the torture devices they called stilettos. Paula knew me better than that.
“I got these for you. It’s a good thing that dress is black, these will match perfectly.”
I opened the box, relieved to see a pair of silver ballet flats with a flurry of tiny crystals that started from the toe. There were hundreds of them on the toe, but they grew further apart and fewer as they spread across the shoe. The light caught them sending an array of multi-colored fractals to bounce off the hallway walls.
“They’re beautiful! Where did you find them?”
Paula shrugged. “I got them from a little boutique in Manhattan. They’re one of a kind.”
After years of knowing and living with Paula, I learned not to question her gifts, but I paled at the thought of how much the sparkly shoes in my hands must have cost. She didn’t have any children and didn’t think she ever would. Without all the official paperwork, I was her child. I swallowed against the tears that threatened to fall.
“Thank you, Paula. You’ve saved my feet.”
We giggled as I slipped on the shoes. The trip to More Than Words was a blur of lights and cars. Lisa thought of everything; when we stepped outside to hail a cab, there was a sleek black car waiting to take us to the event. I sat nervously picking at my cuticles with Paula next to me. Her soft hand covered mine when she noticed what I was doing.
“Stop it! You’re going to make your fingers bleed.”
“I can’t help it, I don’t know if you noticed but I’m kind of freaking out here.” I shifted my weight to slide my hands under my backside.
“Trust me, I noticed.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “Hey, you’ve got this. You’re going to have so much fun you won’t remember to freak out.”
“Says you. What do you have to nervous about? You’ll just be hanging out with me, smiling like that.” I nodded towards the silly grin plastered to her face.
I’d seen that smile a number of times in the years that I’d known Paula and it was always directed at me. At first, I thought it was a pity smile, one she put on to make me feel special. I slowly came to realize that this expression had nothing to do with pity; it was pride. She told me over and over just how proud she was of the woman I’d become. When I pointed it out, she tried to hide her grin by rolling her lips over her teeth.
I laughed. “Well, that’s attractive. Much better than a few minutes ago.”
Paula stared at me blankly, slowly blinking her eyes until she could no longer contain her own laughter. It took us a few moments to regain our composure, but managed to get the fit of giggles under control as we arrived outside of More Than Words. I turned to take the driver’s hand when he opened the door, but Paula grabbed my other arm before I climbed out.
“You’re going to do great, Delia. I’m so proud of you.”
I let go of the driver and turn to pull Paula into a fierce hug. Words couldn’t express how grateful I was for her love and guidance, from the moment I woke in the hospital. I may not remember my parents, but I hoped they were half as good to me as Paula was.
As we exited the car, I was immediately subjected to a flurry of flashes. A photographer followed my every move from the car to the front door. Through my temporary blindness, I was shocked to see so many people lined up, holding my books. Readers waved, calling out my name as I passed. It was surreal.
“There you are! Come here, the table is set up over here. Let me show you.” Lisa latched onto me, dragging me away from the waiting crowd.
“Lisa, I’m sure you remember Paula?” I tugged my arm away and adjusted my dress.
“Of course! It’s marvelous to see you again, dear. You look lovely.”
I couldn’t help but smile at Lisa when she was at an event. She never failed to transform into a New York socialite when surrounded by “her public.” Paula linked her arm through mine again as I followed my publisher through the maze of books.
“They have you set up through here. First, you’ll sign books for the general public. They’ll close the line at seven o’clock because the social hour starts at eight-thirty.”
We stopped at a table set up near the center of the store. Three massive displays surrounded the table, each holding hundreds, maybe thousands, of my books. I made my way around the table and discovered a box full of pens. Of course, they thought I would need a million pens to sign a million books.
“Do you really think this many people are going to show up?” My nerves were evident in my tone of voice.
“Delia, we sold out of VIP tickets in a matter of hours. Readers are devouring your stories; they can’t wait to meet you.” Lisa dismissed my concerns with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand.
Paula offered me an encouraging smile as I took my place behind the table. From my vantage point, I could see the beginning of the line that snaked its way through More Than Words. In just five minutes I would be overwhelmed by the number of people who’d shown up to see me.
I’d been behind the table for an hour when a battered copy of “Blood & Stone” was placed in front of me on the table, followed by brand new copies of “Other Worlds” and “Lost Princess.”
“Wow, how many times have you read this?” I asked without looking up.
“A few, it’s been...enlightening.”
I laughed genially. “I don’t think anyone has ever put it quite that way before. Who should I make this out to?”
“Taeren.”
I froze. I hadn’t introduced the character of Taeren until “Lost Princess,” which had just released. Could he have read it already? He couldn’t have. It wasn’t even officially available at other book stores until the day after the signing. My eyes traveled up his body as my heart pounded in my chest. He wasn’t dressed any differently than someone I would see on the street. I could see his muscular arms bulging against his tight-fitting shirt.
All at once, I couldn’t stop myself, my eyes darted up to meet his. Colorful lights danced along the side of my vision as brown eyes stared back at me. He was older than the boy I remembered, but he could easily be Taeren. His chestnut hair, usually cropped close to his head, now waved carelessly in ear-length locks. My breathing hitched.
It was impossible. There was no way the man in front of me was the character I’d created. In my book, he was the hero to my heroine. Who was he in the real world?
“I’m just kidding, make it to...uh...Tayler.” He looked at me as though he instantly regretted the joke he’d made.
I could only imagine what my face must have looked like as I rose to my feet. I felt like a moron. My throat was dry and I was feeling lightheaded.
“Miss Spencer? Do you need something?” One of the store associates was at my elbow, steadying me as I swayed.
“Water, please.” I mumbled.
“Are you okay?” Tayler reached toward me, concern etched all over his face.
I was speechless as the blood rushed to my head. “I’m fine, really.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I read the name on the back of the book.” He held it up and gestured to a copy of “Lost Princess.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s okay, you just reminded me of someone I used to know. I’m fine.”
I didn’t feel fine, but I was over the initial shock of believing my fictional character had come to life. He smiled apologetically. There was still something about him that left me unsettled. He so resembled the man I’d seen in my dreams; the one I’d known as a child and followed as a teenager. I shook my head against the thought. The man who’d identified himself as Tayler was just that – a man.