A Writer's Dilemma

Story 1 from my book When Nightmares Rules & Other Riveting Tales of Death, Life, & Religion. When characters in a story refuse to cooperate, the situation results in, A Writer's Dilemma ...

A Writer's Dilemma

Written By Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

Copyright © 2012 Marvin Thomas Cox

DBA: Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

All Rights Reserved

A Thomas C. Flynn Story

He sat before the computer screen as he had for many months now, reviewing the plot and story-line of his new story idea. How many times had he started over, thinking himself to be making progress to only delete what he had written, to begin over and over again day after day? Too damn many!

The problem, he had come to believe, was his characters. What He needed was cooperation. That was all that stood in the way of his writing a top notch story. He had it all worked out in his notes, the perfect story of a heavy drinker, Daniel Whitworth, who falls in love with a beautiful Hispanic woman, Elena Alvarez, who spurns his unrequited love for her …

Setting his hands to the keyboard, Thomas C. Flynn began typing furiously, racing to get his thoughts down lest they evaporate from the monitor screen.

"Why do you keep insistin' on writin' me as a heavy drinker Thomas? You know better than anyone that I love Elena and she cannot stand the smell of alcohol on a man."

Daniel leaned comfortably on the computer mouse gazing up at Thomas with a look of total disdain.

Angrily Thomas responded, "How many times do we need to have this conversation Daniel? I am the writer. You are the character. I write. You do what I write."

Daniel slid his shoe around on the desktop, gnawing upon the words he was about to say.

"You know Thomas, you may think you thought us up only recently, but we have been in the back of your mind for years -- since the day your mother passed away -- livin' here peacefully watchin' the things you do … Like that Animal Justice story you wrote. That was some sick s**t man, havin' that kid down in the storm cellar torturin' animals! And the way you did that kid, him gettin' run over and dyin'.

“That was fucked up! Thomas you used to write stories where your characters could live happily, but then you decided you had to prove you could write somethin' dark and sinister. It changed you. Why do you think that Elena hardly comes to talk to you? She says you ain't right in the head at all, not even a little bit … She's right you know … You're not.

“You don't care about your characters, Thomas. They're just expendable tools you make use of in your warped desire to attain fame. Go ahead, type away, but Elena and I will not live out this story the way you are determined to write it. We love each other."

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that. F**k off, I got work to do!"

With that said, Thomas seemed to shift into hyper-drive, his fingers becoming a blur upon the keyboard, banging away at the keys as he poured his anger into his story.

"I imagined you a heavy drinker and you damn well will be a heavy drinker. You may love Elena, but you will never have her ... Never! It's called a plot because that's how the story goes. It's my story … You hear me? ... Mine!"

With his words flowing out upon the screen, Thomas began to feel in control of his own work once again, energized by the power that comes from creating a story and controlling the lives of the characters within it. He lived for that exhilarating rush only writing can give.

A few pages later, Thomas sat back and began to review this day's work. More had been accomplished today than ever before. He should have set Daniel straight a long time ago.

"The nerve of that guy. Since when do characters dictate how a story goes anyway?"

Reading intently while he looked for typos and poorly worded sentences, Thomas gleefully savored his creation; following along as Daniel came to realize he was hopelessly in love with Elena … Then came the scene at her apartment with Daniel pouring his heart out to her. Thomas tensed in anticipation, his breathing coming to a stop …

"You didn't have to drive all this way, Daniel. You could have called," Elena commented.

Daniel picked nervously at his clothes, searching for the words he wished to speak.

"What I have to say, Elena, can't be said on the phone. I have to tell you here, face to face … I love you Elena … I've loved you for a long time."

Thomas leaned closer to the monitor desiring to drink in every word that Elena spoke while she readied herself to cruelly butcher Daniel's heart …

"I love you too, Daniel." Tears streamed down Elena's checks. "I thought I would never hear you say those words … What took you so long?"

"What the f**k? That's not what I wrote. That's not the way this story goes. Daniel! Damn you, you ruined an entire day's work again! You f****n' b*****d piece-of s**t-for-a-character! F**k you, and your damn woman! I'll show you! I'll show you both who the author of this story is, and it damn sure ain't you! It ain't you, you hear me!” Thomas screamed at the top of his lungs.

He sat there in the computer chair shaking in absolute rage. After a while, he grew calmer then, slowly, tears began to flow. Moments later, the trickling tears began to spill forth with increasing speed and intensity, cascading down his face in emotional sobbing heaves of uncontrollable weeping ...

____________

"Don't you feel just a little bit sorry for him, Daniel?" Asked Elena. “He actually does believe we are characters he created out of his own imagination. Maybe allowin' him to believe that was a mistake.”

"Sure I do, but we must never tell him who we are. Never! Thomas does not give a rat's a*s about us. He's obsessed with killin' that kid over and over again in his stories, when he's already killed the kid in his very first of too damn many dark stories. I think he's more daft than his mamma was. He thinks he's G0d or somethin' … We are guests within his mind, not characters. He's our host, not our creator, but I'm afraid our host has become a monster. I will never let him hurt you like that, I swear!”

____________

While Thomas sat weeping at the computer desk, Elena and Daniel watched quietly from nearby. They loved Thomas, but they despised what he had become. They longed for the happy go lucky Thomas who used to write stories full of joy and good times with the most happy of endings. But those days were over it seemed. Thomas, the Thomas they knew, was gone -- perhaps forever.

It was hours before Thomas began to stir. True to old habits, he deleted what he had written that morning, and began studying his story-line notes. Not that he needed to, he knew the plot by heart; every idea; every event; every line of conversation.

Damn Daniel! What does he know about writing? Animal Justice had been his most popular story. So what the character was a weirdo and died, people like to read about weirdos and death. They thrive on it. Dark stories sell, and stories that sell make for very rich authors ...

“F**k the damn money, and f**k the fame! I can live without it. Why can't Daniel get it his through his thick head that this boy has to die … And stay f****n' dead! … He has to … He just has to!”

Fingers in a flurry once more, Thomas set himself to the task at hand. The story and its tragic plot began to pour out before his eyes. Shortly after being rejected by a cold hearted Elena, Daniel had gone on a drinking spree …

The keys buzzed as Thomas began writing the climax of the story; the part of the plot that had Daniel driving drunk on the freeway, losing control of his car, with the car rolling several times, and Daniel pronounced dead at the scene of the accident.

A smile of satisfaction came upon his face as Thomas now prepared to type the final lines, the moral of which was to never trust your heart to a woman.

His fingers fluttered once more and the scene now became that of Daniel's funeral … A small group of people have gathered, mostly relatives with the exception of a coworker or two. The minister has just begun the graveside service when a car pulls up, and out steps Elena and a man -- walking arm in arm. The body language between the two suggests that she has known him for some time … Ah, it's Daniel's best and only friend, the friend who intentionally gave poor Daniel bad advice in his quest for Elena's heart …

Thomas was elated. Finally, after months of work, he had reached an end to his story. It was beautiful, expressing all his personal feelings about love, and women in the real world. How many fools had drank themselves to death over a woman? Women are heartless. His own life had taught him that … Besides, he'd stopped that damn meddler; that's what mattered most …

Proof reading was always a pain in the a*s, but it was a pain well worth the effort. Thomas knew he might spend several days proofing and re-reading his story making certain it was ready for his reader's eyes. He read through it twice that evening making corrections, noticing a few typos, and a poorly worded sentence or two. The next step was to simply walk away for a few days to clear his mind. A fresh mind always revealed if a story was ready or not …

____________

It was a sunny Sunday morning in Smalltown when Thomas sat down to work again. Taking a little rest had been a good thing … Now, to finish proofing … He couldn't wait to upload this story to the web in hopes he'd soon be drunk on the great comments he'd receive after posting it to storywrite.com … He'd also be free to deal with the kid -- and without any interference ...

His computer was a bit slow booting up this morning. Thomas found the delay irritating. After several failed attempts, he opened the document and, after a flickering-light-lag, the first page of his story sprawled before him on the monitor screen. A cup of coffee in hand, Thomas began to slowly read what he had written only a few days past. He was moving along pleasantly towards the conclusion of his story, when his expression froze solidly. He sat motionless, eyes glued to the screen in horrid disbelief ...

"Married? When in the hell did they get married? Daniel, you son of a b***h! You're supposed to be dead! … I wrote you dead! … Where the f**k are you, you meddlin' b*****d! I know you did this!"

Daniel and Elena had been sitting quietly all morning beside the desktop computer speakers, watching Thomas work, awaiting the coming explosion.

"You know we love each other Thomas. What did you really expect me to do?"

Rising slowly to his feet, Daniel walked the short distance across the desktop, confronting Thomas face to face. The two glared at one another. Pure rage and hatred filled Thomas's eyes … Pity, on the other hand, filled Daniel's.

"She's pregnant Thomas. I have to be here for her. We're going to raise a family in this story, like it or not. Why don't you just change your story? … Write happy instead of sad?"

Thomas looked down at Daniel with utter contempt.

"Excellent idea Daniel. Excellent. I will change my story, you meddlin' a*****e! Now, instead of you in the car wreck, I will write Elena into that scene -- pregnant too. You, miserable s**t that you are, can simply drink yourself to death grievin' over her. How's that for a story little man? … That will damn sure make me happy, 'cause I'm sick and tired of your asses! … Maybe both you s***s can die in the car together … Poof! … No more little fuckers tellin' me how to write … Son-of-a-b***h that sounds good! … Romantic too … You happy now, you Tom Thumb lookin' little prick!"

"Don't you get it Thomas? Daniel shouted … You can't kill us off in your s****y sick stories … We're not your characters … We ain't your property to destroy at your every whim, just because we dare tell you the truth about your dark writing … And don't go threatening Elena … Enough is Enough!”

"Damn right, enough is enough!" Thomas began rising from his chair. "I've had enough of both of you troublemakers. I think I'll scrap this story, scrap the both of you, and forget I ever imagined either of you. There are other stories to write, other characters to imagine … Oh yeah, that's right … You ain't characters … Just little folks that live in my head … That's bullshit! … And you think I'm crazy? … To hell with you both! F**k off a*****e, you and your f****n' b***h woman!”

____________

Exactly how long Thomas lay semiconscious upon the floor, he wasn't sure. His pants were wet, and he smelled of urine. His tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, dry and sticky. Rising to his knees, his eyes spotted Daniel and Elena atop the computer desk. Elena appeared a bit shaken. Thomas had never seen Daniel look so angry.

"Please don't make me do that again Thomas. There is room in your head for Elena and I … I will not allow you to hurt her … To write such awful things about her ... Please know that I will be forced to hurt you if you ever speak of harming her -- ever again."

Several ill advised attempts soon convinced Thomas that he did not possess the strength or coordination to stand. Standing was out of the question. He was forced to settle for a clumsy, childlike, crawl into his computer chair. He sat there the rest of the day, staring blankly at the monitor screen which displayed a story that was no longer his ...

When a worried neighbor dropped by to check on him the next afternoon, he found Thomas sitting at the computer. The floor was covered in urine, and Thomas smelled quite awful …

____________

The Day Room in the mental hospital seemed brightly lit this morning. Only a few patients were gathered there. Some came to watch TV, others for reasons of their own. Thomas sat in his usual chair talking to himself as if those he conversed with were actually there.

"He's had another seizure," Jim informed his coworker.

Bob looked up from his work, glancing towards Mr. Flynn.

"I'll make a note that his medications do not appear to be working."

"Ever listen to that guy when he is talking to himself?" Jim asked.

"Not really," Bob replied.

"You should some time. The guy tells some really good stories to himself, but seems to be at war inside his head over whether he will write happy stories, or dark morbid stories. He's always talking to some guy he calls Daniel … And about some kid he thinks he has to kill off in his stories … He's terrified of Daniel, whoever he is, that's for sure."

Motioning discretely towards Mr. Flynn with his hand, Jim continued, "It's a shame to see anyone like that. That could easily be you, or me. Ever think of that Jim?"

"Yeah, sure I do,” Bob confessed …

____________

Thomas lay in bed that evening, music coming softly from the television, while Daniel and Elena danced to Lawrence Welk reruns. Thomas watched quietly, while they danced, their son Matt crawling playfully at their feet. It was a perfect ending to a perfect story … They were all family now -- an Irish family bound together by a tale Thomas wished he had never dreamed of writing. For, in truth, it was a tale spawned by a dream dreamt during that darkest time of night -- that time of night when nightmares rule -- and tonight it would return, in all its terrifying fury, to see him awaken in panic stricken contemplation of how to stop what he knew was surely to come. It was only a matter of time, and time was running out ...

(Written 2/7/2012)