Devon in the Details

Nothing says writer’s block like browsing dubious writing blogs for inspiration. KJ French had been browsing them all for weeks.

Now, she found herself at the low point of her career so far: scrolling feverishly through pages of search results for her articulate query “how to write good book” at well past 4 AM. By the time she came across an article encouraging a variety of hallucinogenic drugs, she was inspired only to finally shut her laptop down for the night. Then, as one does, she climbed under her bedsheets and continued the search on her phone.

           “Not. Helpful,” she snarled at a post that encouraged “borrowing” the work of a trusted friend, letting her head fall back onto her pillow with a loud oomph.

The next suggestion of brainstorming in the shower was equally unappealing to KJ. She hadn’t showered in a week, and there was no time to remedy that when she had a novel to finish. And so, like a millennial Sisyphus, she pressed on.

           In the haunting netherworld that is the eleventh page of Google results, temptation caught her eye:

           I finished the WIP I was stuck on in MINUTES – here’s how!!!

           “Well, there’s a reason they call it clickbait,” she said out loud to her empty room, then tapped the link, sparing only a moment of grief for her decaying mental state.

           She scrolled past the several paragraphs summarizing the said work in progress, which appeared to be a space Western slow-burn self-insert x Kermit fanfic. This was similar enough to her novel, she decided. After X’ing out a pop-up promising winning lotto numbers to anyone streetwise enough to click the flashing green DOWNLOAD button, she came upon the bolded words HOW TO SUMMON DEVON.

           “What the-”

           Flabbergasted, KJ flipped onto her stomach to get into a more comfortable position and, settling in, read on.

           Devon is a holy muse who I accidentally invited over when I published my first fanfic. Upon further investigation, my theory is that in order to summon him, all you have to do is engage in a public demonstration of your artistic talent that Devon deems worthy of his scorn. He may not be the most pleasant to deal with, but his amazing advice was well worth the trouble!

           Excellent. She was ready to dig up a bit of scrap paper, doodle a stick figure, and fling it out her window onto the streets below. If it didn’t work, she’d feel little stupider than she already did. Reading on, however, she let out a loud groan.

           Note: DO NOT simply post a doodle of a stick figure at the bus stop and call it a day. Your creation MUST be so uniquely awful that Devon feels he has no choice but to step in and point your creativity in a less shameful direction (for a small price, of course).

           “Why couldn’t it have just been a pentagram and some creepy Latin chanting?” KJ grumbled later, after tossing another attempt that looked like a wobbly one-eyed traffic cone with a top hat into the night to no avail. “A tutorial would have also been nice!” she shouted at the ceiling in addition. She was running out of loose paper and beginning to fear that she would have to dip into her collection of beautiful, empty leather-bound notebooks.

A nasty draft came in through the open window, sending KJ’s last sheet of scribbles flying. She caught the paper in mid-air and crumpled it in her fist.

“That’s it,” she said through gritted teeth. “I can’t even mess up badly enough for you to notice me, huh? What do you think of this?”

She unfolded the paper in her hand, making no attempt to smooth out the creases, and wrote in huge bold letters that tore through the paper in places: DEVON IS A SCAM. She crumpled it up once again and hurled it out the window so forcefully that it sent a jolt of pain through her arm.

She waited, stewing silently. As moments passed, she wondered if her work hadn’t been insulting enough. Maybe it could have used more expletives. Or maybe she was so sleep-deprived that she’d bought into the ramblings of a random blogger who had a thing for Muppets.  

Just as she thought this, a shrill voice stabbed through her brain. “A SCAM??”

She fell out of her desk chair and covered her ears, but it did nothing to mute the onslaught. “YOU DARE ACCUSE THE GREAT MUSE OF BEING A SCAM???”

Groaning on the carpet, KJ realized that the voice really was in her brain. It was less of an auditory hallucination and more like the experience of almost hearing dialogue when reading it on the page. But this dialogue was sharper around the edges, as if the audiobook were being transmitted directly to her neurons.

She took deep breaths to stop herself from yelling out loud at this strange whiny creature. Well, he was the one who stood me up, she thought. And it’s not like I’ve ever met a demon before.

           “A WHAT?” KJ cringed. Devon’s voice was like dozens of mosquitoes buzzing away inside her skull.

           “Sorry!” she said, or rather thought at him. She would have to be careful what she let cross her mind while he was around. “I assumed. Devon, a mysterious entity you have to summon that will do favors for you as long as you do something for him? Devon? Demon?”

           To her surprise, this met with a bark of nervous laughter. “Aha! Ha! No. My name is Devon. Just—just Devon.” He was absolutely a demon.

           “Am not!”

           “Hey, if you want to keep it a secret, that’s your business, Devon.” She struggled to her feet, yanking dust bunnies out of her hair, and turned her laptop back on.  “Anyway, I followed the instructions, and here you are. I just need a teeny tiny bit of inspiration.”

           “Of course, of course. Momentarily. First, as for payment options—I only have one simple request.”

           “All right, I know how this goes. Take my future firstborn. Just give me a decent idea.”

           Devon’s response was more annoyed than angry at this point, but it was still giving KJ the worst headache of her life. “What do you think I am, some empty-nester witch?! I don’t want anything to do with a human baby. Nothing but work, work, work and disgusting bodily functions. And what do they give you in return for your years of toil? Defiance! Sarcasm!” Devon’s “voice” morphed from that of a whiny man to that of a somehow even whinier child. “‘Can I use your credit card? But all of the other children have knee socks! Why won’t you let me play with matches and hazardous chemicals? You don’t get me!’ Blech! No, I don’t want your firstborn.”

           “Okay, okay! Fair point. I don’t know if I want a kid either. My…soul, then?”

           “Your soul?” he squeaked hysterically. “And that would fetch how much on the black market? Three eyeballs?”

           “Well, I’m stumped. I just need you to help me dream up a novel before my deadline.”

           “I was just about to when you—bah! You writers and your total lack of tact. You spend too much time alone in your hovels being cruel to fictional beings. All I ask is that you write me into your book.”

           “That might be a problem. I don’t know where you’d fit in my college sports romance.”

           “A ROMANCE AUTHOR?” Devon screeched, louder than ever. “And here I thought you were realistic! Sensible!”

           With her ancient laptop finally back on, KJ opened a fresh document and saved it under her folder TRASHY OUTLINES FOR TRASHY SEQUEL. “What could possibly have given you that idea?”

           “I—GAH! Just know that the opportunity to insert me will present itself gladly when I gift you with a brilliant book.”

           “Right. And when is that due to happen, exactly?” The cursor blinked against the white screen as KJ placed her fingers on the keyboard, ready to write.

           “It would have by now if you would just STOP. INTERRUPTING. This is the last one, Devon.” His words now tickled KJ’s brain at little more than a whisper. “You’ll never have to put up with this again once the ritual is complete. You’ll gain an attractive physical form in the human realm and silence undeserving so-called creatives like her for—AAH!” He quickly covered up his shriek with an attempt at a sweet tone which instead gave the impression that he was suffering from an especially horrific ulcer. “I MEAN once I’ve given you the perfect plot and satisfied your heart’s desire.”

           How and whether she would thwart this demon’s apparent plans of world domination, KJ didn’t know, so she ignored his villain monologue. “I already have a plot. A dozen of them, actually. It’s just that they all suck. Compared to my first book, at least.”

           “Hmm. You have an inferiority complex triggered by your own previous success? Humans are quite odd.”

           “Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong with any of the outlines, really. I just know everything about them is bad, and all the fans of Shot on Goal will hate my next book and leave mean comments on my social media. I peaked, I know it. Shot on Goal was a total fluke. I got one miracle, and now my luck’s run out. My career is all downhill from here.” Her thoughts spiraled further, and she imagined tucking them into a box in the back of her mind to hide her desperation from Devon.

           “Your human college sports romance book will be exceptional as long as you SILENCE YOURSELF long enough to LET ME HELP.”

           “Fine, fine. Spit it out, then.” KJ leaned back in her chair and folded her arms.

           Devon choked. “So—uh—uhm—a human sports person is in college when they fall in love with another human—”

           KJ almost threw her laptop out the window. “Seriously?” she shouted out loud.

           “I don’t typically invent human relationships! Only ruin them, and mock their foolishness.”

           “No kidding. From the sounds of things, you’re even worse at it than I am. I’m this close to un-summoning you.” She wasn’t sure if he could see, but she held her thumb and forefinger out in front of her a centimeter apart.

           “No, no, no! So, the other human doesn’t like sports people,” Devon continued in a rush, “so the sports person makes a deal with a being much like me, a demo—a DEVON—to make them fall in love with—"

           “Whoa, whoa. Hold up. I’m not going to throw in crazy fantasy things, or things that people think are fantasy, that would never have existed in book 1 just because I went with the terrible plot that you made up just to accommodate your evil plot! Maybe I do suck, but at least if I wrote it myself I could suck in my own way and not sign over the human realm to you so you can—what was it you said you were planning to do? Kill me and every other subpar artist?”

           “Just what are you suggesting, then?” Devon’s voice didn’t slice through her the way it had when he was angry before, but the calmer tone was far worse. Deadly, she thought, suppressing a shudder.

           KJ had been exhausted enough to think she could summon Devon, and now that she was even more exhausted, she was that much more confident that she could send him away. She pulled out her phone and reopened the webpage that had started it all. Once again, she scrolled through the summoning instructions, this time passing them by until she landed on the next heading, HOW TO BANISH DEVON.  

           “WHAT?!” Devon exclaimed, shrieking again. “But you’ll never get your inspiration!”

           “So, I can banish you? Perfect.”

“You’ll drown in your aspirations and asphyxiate, human!”

“Last I checked, I wrote my first book—which was a huge success, by the way—without your help. I’ll bet I can write my second without you too.”

She read as Devon continued his rant.

Is Devon annoying you? That’s a thing he does! To dismiss him, you need to believe in yourself.

No, I’m not kidding. You have to have total confidence in your abilities and focus on your positive thoughts until they overwhelm all the negative ones, including Devon’s presence.

“That’s utter foolishness,” KJ told herself.

“Precisely!” Devon said, with obvious glee. “How could you have confidence in your abilities when they are so clearly lacking?”

KJ had heard the phrase “utter foolishness” as her own thought, but something seemed off. Wouldn’t her own mind have told her that the instructions were “really stupid” or “a load of crap”?

“I could rename the love interest Devon,” KJ suggested. “What kind of a name is Chris, anyway?”

“Yes, yes! Perfection!”

KJ grinned. “I’ll be the best writer of human stories to ever live!”

Her smile slid off her face as she gasped. Devon was playing dirty, disguising himself as her own thoughts.

“No,” she thought at him furiously. “You can’t trick me. I’d bet I’m smarter than you.”

“Nonsense!”

“Every story’s been told in some way, and no one else could tell one the same way as me. More like no one else could tell it as horribly. I should just give up and jump out this window while I’m at it.”

KJ shook her head violently. She hadn’t had suicidal thoughts since ninth grade. Was this her or Devon? She didn’t know. He was quickly getting better at using the same words she would use.

“Confused, human?” Devon chuckled. “Prepared to accept my mercy, perhaps?”

“No! No!” KJ ran her hands through her hair, pulling on it as hard as she could.

“I told you I hated human children. Yet here you are, behaving so childishly!”

“Asshole,” she groaned. “You really are a scam.”

“SHUT UP!” She screamed as Devon’s voice echoed through her head so loudly she swore it made her teeth rattle. “NEVER say that again.”

“Oh, I’ll say it again. I’ll shout it in the streets.” Grimacing through the pain in her head, she leaned out the window and yelled, “DEVON IS A SCAM! Maybe I’m the world’s worst writer, but at least I’m not a pathetic liar.”

“HOW DARE YOU- I will find someone else to deal with and when I do, I will end you!”

“I’d like to see you try!” she shouted, out loud again.

“Oh, you’ll see. You’ll see!” Devon let out a truly demonic yowl that almost made KJ fall out of the window, but as it went on it faded until, finally, it was gone. Just as she had provoked Devon to make an appearance, she had provoked him to leave.

           KJ collapsed to her knees, breathing deeply and staring at the brown shag carpet she had lied on what seemed like days ago. For the first time, she became aware of just how tired she was.

           But still, a burst of inspiration struck her, just as bright and beautiful as Devon had promised. Except it came from within herself.

           She opened her TRASHY OUTLINES folder, closed her eyes, and jabbed her finger at a random place on her computer screen. The outline she landed on was titled GASOLINE ON A DUMPSTER FIRE, but she clicked on it anyway. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she had remembered.

It was indeed as bad as she had remembered, if not worse. She itched to get back on her phone and numb herself with videos of cute dogs, but instead she threw it onto her bed and turned back to her laptop.

“You’re the stone-cold badass who just saved the world,” KJ said. “You can do this.” Never finishing her book, she decided, was a far worse fate than any sophomore slump.

She hammered away at her novel until 2:00 in the afternoon found her fast asleep, drooling on her keyboard. As soon as she woke up, though, she started typing again. She was the master of her own destiny.

           The morning of her first big advance review, KJ woke up early, making sure the windows in her smaller new apartment were closed. She had been evicted after the night of Devon, what with all her shouting at the late hour through the open window. She squealed and refreshed the blog page until the newest article appeared. The lukewarm title stood there in resolute Comic Sans font.

           Offside, KJ French’s highly anticipated second novel, is a fun but unmemorable summer read

           “Well, I’m proud of it,” KJ said to herself, curling up in her blankets and reading on. She focused on the praise for her sense of humor.

           A few days later, of course, as the sea of two- and three-star reviews grew, she really would drown just as Devon had said, sobbing over her laptop and vowing to quit writing forever. Someday she would make a stellar full-time paranormal investigator before dying young during an exorcism gone wrong. But for now, she was satisfied, and right now was the only moment that mattered.