AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I pause for a moment, still not used to talking about my accomplishments.
"I published a book.”
His eyes widen at that small sentence.
“You mean youwrotean entire book?”
I nod, knowing that my makeup is definitely not saving me from how red my face and chest have become this time.
“I’d love to hear about it,” he says.
Actually, if you happened to notice any similarities between yourself and my main characteryou’dloveto run the other way.
“It’s just a silly, little romance. Not that big of a deal.”
He’s shaking his head before I even finish talking. “I'd say that's a big deal. How long did it take you to write?”
“Over a year,” I admit, almost embarrassed by that.
I know I shouldn’t be, it takes a lot of people a lot longer. Once I tried to join an online writer’s group, I couldn’t help the shame I felt when all of their writing journey’s took months at the most. It didn’t matter that none of them had day jobs like I did, I beat myself up about it.
“I was working full time for most of it,” I explain. If I had more time to write, I could’ve done it much quicker. Which is the exact reason I quit my job right after leaving that group.
Writingismy job, my dream job, even though it hasn’t given me much of an income.
Yet.
“I’m impressed. It must take a lot to actually finish something like that and put it out into the world. More people probably give up than actually go through with it.”
“I was almost one of those,” I confess. “I have a lot more abandoned ideas than completed ones.”
“Don’t we all.” It’s not a question, but a statement.
And I like it. It makes me feel more like I’m just another human, instead of the failure my mind makes me out to be. Rationally speaking, I know that's not what I am. I have my proud moments, but I have a lot of doubtful ones too.
Plus, it's nice to feel like I have a small piece in common with Miles. I've always thought of him as someone who has their shit together in a way I only wish I was capable of. I can't even say I've gotten all that much closer in the last few years. I don’t plan on telling him that the book has been a flop so far, and I’ve still spent way more on the process than I’ve made in the last few months since publishing. I’m not great at social media or putting myself out there, and it shows in my sales.
By the time we’re both in the middle of our meal and at the end of our second drink, the conversation steers back to the serious stuff. Like his ex-wife.
Ex. Wife.
Still wrapping my head around that one.
“You really didn’t like her, did you?” he asks me, but he looks amused rather than insulted.
“Not as much as she didn’t like me!” I raise my voice a little louder than I should in a restaurant that’s now full of people, buthe’s unfazed. “AndIhad good reason! I was always nice to her, and she despised me just for existing.”
“Yeah,” he says. “She was kind of a bitch.”
I burst out laughing at that. The drinks must be getting to the both of us.
“That probably doesn’t make me seem like a great guy,” he adds shyly. “But I’m not just saying that because we’re not together anymore. There were definitely things I loved about her, but I was always aware that she wasn't the nicest person behind it all.”
I don’t know what to say to that so I give him a sympathetic frown. I’m glad he knew it at least. I always hoped he’d realize it before they ever got married, but better late than never.
“I think she was jealous of you.”
“If I had just taken a drink, I’d be tempted to spit it out right now.” I keep my facial expression serious, and he smiles wide at that.
