Page 10 of Room 1212

I interrupted my agent’s prattling. “Sean, do you like my books?”

He finally stopped talking and stared at me. “Of course I do, I love your books. They’re brilliant.”

That felt like an exaggeration. “But, I mean, are my books cliché?”

“What? Why would you ask that? Did you see that in a review?” He dragged the tablet back in front of him so he could see what I’d been looking at.

“No, not in a review,” I said. “I just mean, do all my characters follow a stereotype?”

He laughed uneasily, clearly unsure how to approach this. “Well, yeah, but that’s the whole point. Your readers love it, and that’s what keeps them coming back for more. It’s what sells, and we are in the market of selling books, aren’t we?”

I didn’t bother answering, because he wasn’t wrong.

But when he went back to the tablet and said, “Now, for the sequel I was thinking that we could open with a steamy scene, really showing off Ritter’s hot body. In fact, just start him off on page one naked,” I found I couldn’t keep myself quiet.

“Maybe he could be wearing something baggy instead,” I blurted, “like an oversized t-shirt or a muumuu.” The second the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake. It was a good thing I hadn’t suggested he could put on some weight, maybe get a bit of a dad-bod vibe going.

Sean’s eyes flashed. “Why would you want to do that? The readers don’t buy your books for a muumuu.”

“Well…” I gnawed on my lip for a second. “You know, bodies come in all shapes and sizes and colors. I just think it would be nice if I could add a bit of… variety to my books.”

He snorted. “Right, and next you’re going to suggest that your lead character is attracted to women.” I opened my mouth to say that some men happened to think women were very sexy, but he cut me off before I had a chance. “What’s going on with you? Are you high?” He leaned in and took a look at my eyes. “Hmm, your pupils do look a bit blown, now that you mention it. Do you need some Visine?” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a bottle of eye drops.

“I’m not high!” I hissed, then looked around at the surrounding tables to make sure they weren’t eavesdropping. “I’m just considering shaking things up a bit, keeping it fresh.”

Sean tapped the tines of his fork on the edge of his plate for a few seconds as he thought about what I’d said. The suggestion that things were getting stale gave him pause. For a reader to mention that my books were boring or repetitive, it was essentially the kiss of death.

Finally, he said, “Fresh is good. I like fresh.”

I schooled my face so I didn’t let on how excited I was to win the argument. On the inside, I was doing a happy dance, but on the outside, I simply gave a tight smile and nodded.

“How fresh are we talking about?” he asked suspiciously. “No female love interests.” He pointed his manicured nail at my chest. His tone told me there was no negotiating on that, which was fine with me. I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to write that kind of romance. A woman’s body was a total mystery to me.

I held my hands up in surrender. “Not a problem.”

“Okay, so what were you thinking?”

I chose my words carefully, using words like “thrilling” and “sultry,” so he knew I wasn’t about to change the overall vibe, but meanwhile, in my mind, I had a whole new kind of story unfurling, something I had never attempted before.

It was actually kind of exciting, this anticipation that bordered on fear. It made my heart thrum in my chest, my blood racing through my veins. I hadn’t felt this in years.

By the end of the meal, I could see he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of me trying something new, but he was at least bending in the right direction. “All right, tell you what,” he said, propping his folded arms onto the table in front of him so he could lean in. “You bring me the first five chapters of this story. Make it good, convince me. And if I like it, I’ll go to bat for you with the publisher.”

“Really?” It was better than I’d hoped for, so before he could change his mind, I made my excuses and ducked out of the restaurant.

Racing home, I started to make a list of all the things the rude alpha had commented on, things that I could possibly change about my writing. No washboard abs and flowing locks, no massive cocks, and no… I gulped.No accidental pregnancies.Damn. That was one of the parts I loved the most! But the asshole had said it was a cliché, so I guess it had to go.

I made myself some tea and put on my comfy pajama pants, then finally sat down in front of the computer. “Okay, here I go…” I said, poised to release a flurry of new words on the page.

Except, there was no flurry. And no trickle, either. There was a distinct lack of words.

“Anytime now…”

The screen remained frustratingly blank, as did my brain. As much as I wanted to write something new, I had no clue where to begin. All the masters said to write what you know, but that was the exact opposite of what I’d always done. I didn’t know love! If I had listened to them, I would probably be writing horror instead. My childhood had been bleak and depressing, and my parents had been a poor example of what a healthy relationship should look like. When I first started writing romance, it was as an escape. I’d had to guess what love felt like.

And it wasn’t just the emotional stuff, but the physical too.

Everything in my books was fantasy, including the tight bodies and oversized peens. I might have written a lot of romance novels, but there was very little in the way of romance in my life. I had no real experience to speak of, and all the guys I’d slept with had been disappointing.

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