Page 9 of Myths and Manuscripts
“So, how’s it going?” She peered over my shoulder at the book. “Ohhh, that’s a good chapter! You’re close to the end now.” The warmth of her body seeped into my back and her hair tickled my cheek as she leaned closer, pointing at something on the page. “That was my favorite part.”
The excitement in her voice made my heart flutter in a way I’d never felt before. I was so distracted by her closeness that I didn’t catch what part she pointed at. I was the Demon Lord, a villain so terrifying that it took seven books to build up to meeting me. I was not the type of man who got flustered over acute girl.
I cleared my throat. “You know, I’m never going to finish reading if you keep hovering. The knights look like they could use your help too.”
One of them was trying to lift a heavy book, but his tiny arms were shaking, and I had a feeling it was about to squash him. Willow gasped, racing over to catch the heavy tome just in time. The knight sank to the table in relief as Willow comforted him. The knights might be meddlesome, but they were a good distraction when you needed one. Now I had to get back to reading.
Willow was counting on me for my opinion, and I would not let her down. Nobody else had read this. Just me and the story gods.
She neededmyhelp.
I dove back in, reading chapter after chapter as the story reached its climax. The Queen overthrew her enemies in a resounding victory but decided that it was time to end her reign and let somebody else take over. Instead of heading off into the sunset with the guy she obviously loved, she gave him her crown. She apparently trusted him with her kingdom, but not with her heart. They could have easily ruled together, and it would have been a beautiful ending, but instead she just left to start her life over in solitude after the long hard-fought war.
The End.
Finishing a good book was usually so satisfying, but with hers I felt cheated out of something that could have been great. Willow had written those characters so that Iknewthey loved each other, but then she completely ignored the whole concept. She was probably going for a strong female character who didn’t need a man, but the way she wrote it felt like the Queenwantedthe guy even if she didn’t technically need him. Women could be strong and still be in relationships. Nyssa did it every day, andI’d read about so many other strong female characters too.
How could Willow be such a good writer, but miss such an important element? No wonder the story gods thought it had no heart. Willow didn’t let her characters admit any of their true feelings.
She must have seen me set the book down, because she dropped the three-headed dog’s ball and was heading my way with an eager look on her face that I really didn’t want to crush. She was the first person who was excited to hear my thoughts on something that didn’t relate to my book. She didn’t want hints about how the hero would win or how I would die. She just wanted to know what I thought aboutherbook.
And that was a wonderful feeling.
Before she made it over to me, a group of young teenage boys approached my table.
“These books are amazing,” one of them said, beaming as he held up the first book in my series. “Are you really the Demon Lord?”
Children were the few fans I didn’t mind talking to because I didn’t have to answer any annoying questions. I just had to be scary and amuse them.
“Yes, I am the Demon Lord.” I stretched my shadows out, swirling them around the children as I bared my teeth. “So watch out.”
Their eyes widened as I formed my hands into claws, rawring just enough to make them laugh. Then I let my shadows do the rest, putting on a little play with dancing demons and cute animals all hopping around. That would entertain them for hours.
“Rawr?” Willow asked, her voice filled with mirth. “That’s adorable.”
“I think you mean terrifying.”
My face burned as I focused on the kids to avoid any more ofher teasing. Of course she’d been standing close enough to hear that.
After a while, she nudged the manuscript I’d left on the table. “So....what did you think?”
“Honestly?” I paused, intensely aware of how much I could hurt her with a wrong word or blunt comment. “I could use some time to put my thoughts together. And I’d like to read that note, if you still have it.”
She glanced away from me, pulling a very worn and tattered piece of paper out of her pocket. It was a bit singed, with tiny teeth marks at the top from the dragons yesterday. I took it carefully, not wanting to put a single extra wrinkle in it.
The story speaks, but the heart is silent.
That was a little different than saying the book had no heart, but I understood what it meant entirely. Willow had shied away from her characters’ feelings instead of letting them shine. Emotions were what let a reader connect to a story, but she’d left a lot of them out. All the aspects of the war and losing their kingdom felt emotionally charged, but anything more personal like falling in love fell flat. That should be an easy fix for a good writer like her though, so maybe if I explained it well enough, she’d see what the story gods meant.
And then be ready to write my final book next.
“The suspense is killing me.” Willow let out a breath, exasperation clear on her face. “Why don’t we get a drink while you mull this over.”
I nodded and handed the note back to her. Willow deserved the truth, but in a way that didn’t hurt her feelings so much that she’d want to stop writing entirely. I wasn’t really good at being delicate or comforting, but I had to try with her. She was too good of a writer to let slip through my fingers. Especially since she didn’t treat me like the others. She’d never demanded answers about my books, fawned over me, or run away in terror.She treated me like any other person and that was something I’d never experienced before.
But I found myself craving more of it. More of her view of me.
I bet my ending would be more than satisfying if she was the one who wrote it. Now I just had to convince her of that.
