The Mind of a Writer

“So, Mr. Andrews, your newest book has quickly risen the bestselling charts, how do you feel about that?” I looked at the girl who was supposed to be doing the interview; her face looked like a doll with a smile plastered across her face. I adjusted in my seat, a smile spreading across my face.
“Honestly, it feels great, the fact that my journey as a writer has lead me to this point, that I can now live off what I love warms my heart.” Her smile remains unchanged; she looks over to the teleprompter for her next question. I can’t help but wonder what her story is, what lead her to this path in life? My thought process was interrupted by her reciting her next lines.
“I must say, I haven’t read this book, but my favorite book was your first one in the Overcome series. The attention to detail was incredible, and the characters just feel so real.” I smile, I always appreciate the compliments. It’s taken a lot of work to make my characters feel that real.
“The Overcome series was my very first success, it took a lot to come up with the characters for the story.” She smiled, her gaze was drawn away from the teleprompter to a kid backstage. He was some skinny goth kid. He was tapping on his wrist, telling her to wrap it up. She gave some pleasantries, plugged my new book, and I was out the door.
I took off my tie, undoing my jacket and untucked my shirt. I’ve never been one for dress clothes, I fancy sweats and t-shirts, personally. I got into my car, an old Ford Contour, and headed back to my home in the sticks.
On the way home, I couldn’t help but laugh. They always compliment my characters, they very rarely compliment anything else. The girl from the talk show was the first one in a long time to compliment my attention to detail.
Arriving at my home, I open the door and quickly turn on the TV. The news was on; they were talking about another missing person’s report. I frowned and turned off the TV. Deciding to handle a few chores around the house, I head to the basement.
He was still asleep, relishing the mattress that I gave him. He was a simple man, he has a boring name though, so I’ll have to fix that. A man who had it all in his high school days, but ruined his chance in college after a drug charge. When I found him, he was still fighting that depression from his mistakes; drinking his cares away after a day at the construction site. I have everything that I need from him, so I might as well take out the trash. I placed the pillow over his head, he quickly awoke, trying to fight his way out. Turns out days of minimal food and being cuffed to the wall will even the odds between an old football player and some shut-in author. He quickly gave up the ghost, allowing me to deal with the rest.
I love living in the country. I mean, the internet is crap, but at least when you start burning things like the bodies of animals you catch in traps and other trash, no one bats an eye. With a quick splash of gasoline and a couple of matches, the flames quickly took away the evidence. 
With my burden gone, and having quite a bit of new material to try to work on my new story. I head up to the local coffee shop; their internet is so much better than what it is in my little house in the woods. As I sit down with my coffee, I can’t help but look around the shop. A girl was staring at me from across the room. She met my eyes and slowly made her way to me, a book in her hand, and timidly held it out to me. I smile, looking at the brown-haired girl, covering her face with part of her scarf. I quickly sign the book, and she attempts to make a retreat before I grab her wrist. 
“Hold on Miss, could you do me a favor? Could you tell me your story?” Maybe she could give me the inspiration for my new main character?
“So, Mr. Andrews, your newest book has quickly risen the bestselling charts, how do you feel about that?” I looked at the girl who was supposed to be doing the interview, her face looked like a doll with a smile plastered across her face. I adjusted in my seat, a smile spreading across my face.
“Honestly, it feels great, the fact that my journey as a writer has lead me to this point, that I can now live off what I love warms my heart.” Her smile remains unchanged, she looks over to the teleprompter for her next question. I can’t help but wonder what her story is, what lead her to this path in life? My thought process was interrupted by her reciting her next lines.
“I must say, I haven’t read this book, but my favorite book was your first one in the Overcome series. The attention to detail is amazing and the characters are just so real.” I smile, I always appreciate the compliments. It’s taken a lot of work to make my characters feel that real.
“The Overcome series was my very first success, it took a lot to come up with the characters for the story.” She smiled, her gaze drawn away from the teleprompter to a kid backstage. He was some skinny goth kid. He was tapping on his wrist, telling her to wrap it up. She gave some pleasantries, plugged my new book, and I was out the door.
I took off my tie, undoing my jacket and untucked my shirt. I’ve never been one for dress clothes, I fancy sweats and t-shirts, personally. I got into my car, an old Ford Contour, and headed back to my home in the sticks.
On the way home, I couldn’t help but laugh. They always compliment my characters, they very rarely compliment anything else. The girl from the talk show was the first one in a long time to even compliment my attention to detail.
Arriving at my home, I open the door and quickly turn on the TV. The news was on, they were talking about another missing person’s report. I frowned, and turned off the TV. Deciding to handle a few chores around the house, I head to the basement.
He was still asleep, relishing the mattress that I gave him. He was a simple man, he has a boring name though, so I’ll have to fix that. A man who had it all in his high school days, but ruined his chance in college after a drug charge. When I found him, he was still fighting that depression from his mistakes; drinking his cares away after a day at the construction site. I have everything that I need from him, so I might as well take out the trash. I placed the pillow over his head, he quickly awoke, trying to fight his way out. Turns out days of minimal food and being cuffed to the wall will even the odds between an old football player and some shut-in author. He quickly gave up the ghost, allowing me to deal with the rest.
I love living in the country. I mean, the internet is crap, but at least when you start burning things like the bodies of animals you catch in traps and other bodies, no one really bats an eye. With a quick splash of gasoline and a couple of matches, the flames quickly took away the evidence.
With my burden gone, and having quite a bit of new material to try to work on my new story. I head up to the local coffee shop, their internet is so much better than what it is in my little house in the woods. As I sit down with my coffee, I can’t help but look around the shop. A girl was looking at me from across the room. She met my eyes and slowly made her way to me, a book in her hand, and timidly held it out to me. I smile, looking at the brown-haired girl, covering her face with part of her scarf. I quickly sign the book, and she attempts to make a retreat before I grab her wrist.
“Hold on miss, could you do me a favor? Could you tell me your story?” Maybe she could give me the inspiration for my new main character?
Category:Disappearances
Category:Diary/Journal
Category:Mental Illness