Thursday, October 20, 2011

Rules of Writing, 6

It was just another routine, mundane afternoon.  I had been rushing around trying to fit in everything from work, to running, to getting through a tough patch that had put my life into a short tailspin.  I was having a hard time trying to fit everything in that needed to be done and I knew I was taking longer to process all the information that was coming at me too quickly.  My mind was still slightly clouded but I was managing.
I walked into the grocery store with a short list of items.  I thought it would be easier to pick up a few items for dinner than try to tax my brain with coming up with something from what I already had in my pantry.  I made my way through the long aisles and was trying hard to stay focused on only the items on my list.  I wanted to make quick and short work of this errand.  I was bustling along but I came to a gradual slowing of my pace as I came closer to the wine section.  I immediately was thinking, "it's not on the list, stick to the list" and then immediately changed it to, "I'll only pick up one bottle, it will only take an extra moment."  I thought, what the heck, and turned down toward the wine racks. 
I immediately saw the back of a man leaning down.  He was intent on a few bottles of red.  I stopped and viewed his broad back.  I could see how lean and muscled he was even underneath his dark suit.  I was slightly startled out of my perusal when he stood up to his full height and turned to look at me as if he sensed I was there staring at him.  "Oh, sorry," he said.  "I'm in your way."
"N-No," I stuttered, shaking my head.  If I flushed I can't be sure but I barreled ahead and said, "I see what I wanted."  I proceeded to move to the area he had been so intent on a few moments earlier and pulled a bottle of Merlot from the rack.  "This is it," I pronounced as I held up the bottle in my hand like a prize.  If I hadn't been blushing before I could feel it now as I tried to remove the lopsided smile from my face. He grinned and looked slightly puzzled at me for a moment.  I was searching for something to say in order to back away with my awkwardness when he finally said, "You're Theresa."
I stared up at him, my eyes large and showing more stunned feeling than I was wanting to divulge.  As I admitted, "Yes, I am," I realized I recognized the dark haired man before me.  "You are Josh, right?"  I asked.  He grinned and nodded, "Yes, from the Office - the ROW office.  You were there in April in conference room C looking for Erik."
"But he wasn't in," I finished for him.
"Yes," he agreed.  "How is the writing going?"
I looked down at the floor and tried to vanish before him.  Knowing I didn't possess the particular skill of invisibility I looked back up at him instead.  After a deep sigh, I shrugged one shoulder and told him, "I don't talk about it."
His tawny eyes grazed me playfully and he gave me the smallest of grins.  "You don't talk about it?"
"No."
"Since April, you haven't talked about it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
I took a really deep breath and blew it out hard.  I made a face and finally said, "It was too much talk.  I decided all I ever did was talk about how this wasn't right and how that didn't work and how I wasn't doing enough.  I decided I would shut up about it.  All I did was talk and it wasn't helping anything."
Josh's grin grew serious and he asked, "So you stopped writing?"
I lifted my eyes up at him and said, "No, not completely.  But I wouldn't let myself talk about it.  No one wanted to hear about it and I was tired of hearing myself go on about it if I wasn't doing anything more than talking." 
"And how has that worked out for you?" he asked.  I noticed the small grin was playing on his face again.
"Fine," I said strongly with an uplift to my shoulders.  "I don't buy into that idea you have to talk about everything to feel better about it theory.  In fact, all the talk was making it worse not better.  I decided to stop talking and do it and if I didn't do it, then there was no reason to talk about it."
He paused and thought about that for a moment looking upward.  He rubbed his chin with his hand and then looked back at me.  "As long as it's working for you," he finally said.  "Enjoy the wine," he said.
I turned and started to go but turned back to Josh and said, "What are you doing here?"
"What?" he asked.
"Why are you here in the store?"
"Why don't you tell me," he said.
"You don't think it's a little odd that I meet you here in the store instead of at the Rules Of Writing office?" I explained.
He looked at me blankly and said, "Do you think it's strange?"
"Well, yeah.  I mean this is almost exactly the first scene of how my two main characters meet in my story.  You there," I said pointing at him.  "At the wine rack.  She sees him and takes the bottle of Merlot."
"Really," he says noncommittally.
"Yes."
His eyes were looking down at my playfully again.  "Maybe it's okay if you don't talk about it but something tells me those characters of your's might have a thing or two more to say."
I thought about that for a moment than admitted grudgling, "Maybe.  Maybe they do."
He lifted his arms out slightly from his sides.  "Why else would we be here today in this situation.  Why else did you put us here."
I argued, "You were here.  I was just doing these things that needed to be taken care of."
He wagged his finger at me.  "Oh no.  You are writing this fiction here, remember? Talk or no.  You are writing it."
I had to stop.  I knew he was right.  I had come up with this very idea on the drive back from Paradise before things got tumbled over.  I was thinking about exactly this and had also planned on spending my time left putting those main characters into more action, writing more words.  It didn't work out that way but then yesterday I finally remembered about this idea and knew it was time to sit down and put it to paper.
"Okay, Josh," I smirked.  "You're right," I said.  "I'm glad you showed up when you did since I wasn't going to visit the ROW office."
"Since you didn't want to talk about it."
"Right," I said.
He grinned at me and then gave a mock bow.  "Anyway I can help, Theresa."
I shook my head at him and turned to leave.  I didn't look back as I took my wine and made my way toward the front of the store.  As I waited in the checkout line his words went through my head and I thought.
"Yes.  Talk or no.  I am writing it."
TT

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