Beyond Words

Arthur sat in his study, his eyes fixed on the blinking cursor on the page in front of him. His fingers hovered over the keyboard but his mind was blank. He ran a hand over his tired face and leaned back in his chair, wincing at the loud squeal it made. Looking around his cluttered office, he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. Scraps of paper, pens, and empty coffee mugs were scattered haphazardly as if a bomb had gone off. The only semblance of order was the shelf of books neatly arranged alphabetically against the wall to his right.

His gaze fell on one particular book, half sticking out of its place on the third row of the large shelf, where it sat, taunting him. It was his own, his very first published book, which had brought him a small amount of fame and fortune. But now, it seems to mock him, looking down upon him like an unamused professor, a constant reminder of his own success and the pressure to live up to it. He let out a sigh and reached for his coffee, hoping that another dose of caffeine might help him break through the creative block.

“I’ll be back,” he muttered to the empty room as he left his office, determined to clear his mind. He descended the stairs, his thoughts swirling with ideas that seemed to slip away as quickly as they came. He couldn’t help but blame the red book for his recent struggles with writing. Ever since the success of his first novel, he had been plagued by self-doubt and the fear of failure.

He had achieved so much, but now the weight of expectations bore down on him heavily. He feared disappointing his fans and fellow writers, and dreaded the inevitable ratings and critics that would come with any new work he put out. Despite his editor’s reassurances he couldn’t shake off the nagging thought: what if he failed?

Arthur pushed the thought out of his mind as he made his way to the kitchen. He set his mug down on the pristine counter before reaching for the coffee pot. He poured himself another cup, the dark liquid filling the mug, and he let out a sigh as he stared into it, lost to his thoughts.

A ray of sunlight sliced through the mug, catching his attention. He looked up at the drawn curtains above the sink and reached out to tug them back, allowing the sun to flood the room. The day outside was clear, with a few clouds dotting the sky, and the sight of his lush green backyard brought a sense of beauty and tranquility. It all seemed so still, relaxed.

He picked up his coffee mug and walked to the glass door at the back of his kitchen. He let himself out onto the small patio, taking a deep breath of fresh air and savoring a sip of his coffee.

As he stood there, enjoying the moment, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He switched the mug to his left hand and pulled out his phone with his right, frowning when he saw the name on the screen.

It was Stacy, his editor.

“Hello?” He answered, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hey Arthur, hi, it’s Stacy,” she said.

Arthur acknowledged with a nod, even though she couldn’t see him. “Hi Stacy,” he replied, heading back inside. “I’m guessing you’re calling to remind me of the deadline on Friday?”

Stacy sighed on the other end of the line. “Not only that,” she began, “but the publishers are pressuring me to get you to move up the release date.”

“What?” Arthur was taken aback, thinking of the blank manuscript sitting in his office.

“Yeah, they say that your audience has been anticipating the new book and they want to release it during peak publication in September. What do you think about that?”

Arthur almost choked on his coffee. September was soon. “I was pretty set on the release happening in January,” he said, feeling a sense of panic rising.

Stacy stayed silent for a moment. “Look, Art, I like you, okay? So I’m going to keep it straight with you. If the publisher doesn’t hear that you’re willing to move the date up to September they’re going to push it back to the summer of next year.”

Arthur cursed under his breath. “Alright,” he said carefully, trying to keep his composure. “So what you’re saying is they’re going to cancel the book if they don’t see results soon?”

Stacy let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. It’s not that they don’t like you, Art, it’s just that they’ve already accepted delays twice now and they’re losing confidence in your productivity. They need to see progress. So the deadline on Friday could potentially convince them to keep the January release, but I don’t know. Just keep at it, okay?”

“Of course, thanks for letting me know, Stacy,” Arthur said feeling a mixture of determination and anxiety as he hung up the phone. He took another sip of his coffee, the taste suddenly bitter in his mouth.

He knew he needed to face reality. He couldn’t find the right words to continue his second novel, and even if he went back upstairs and sat down he would just end up staring at the screen until his eyes hurt.

Frustration and exhaustion gnawed at him. In a moment of impulse, he decided to take a walk in the park down the street, hoping the fresh air would clear his head and give him a new perspective.

Without preamble he grabbed his keys from the kitchen island and headed for the front door. Within minutes, he was at the park. As he walked by the playground filled with children and their parents, laughter filling the air, Arthur’s mind was still preoccupied.

However, he was interrupted when an old man waved him down from one of the park tables. Arthur looked around, wondering if the man was actually waving at someone else. When the man nodded fervently at him and motioned for him to come over, Arthur realized, he was, indeed, the one being beckoned.

“Come on, yourg man,” the old man said with an eye crinkling smile. “Why don’t you sit down and play a game of chess with me?”

Arthur was hesitant at first, but the old man’s friendly demeanor put him at ease. As he took a seat in the chair across from him, he introduced himself as Herb.

Herb set up the chessboard and offered Arthur the white pieces to move first. The game began and Arthur struggled to remember the different moves. Herb was patient and even offered some help, but he never allowed Arthur to win.

As they played, Herb asked Arthur why he looked so glum. Arthur hesitated, taken aback by his forwardness. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to open up to the stranger. 

“I’m a writer,” Arthur said, mustering up the courage to speak the truth. “I had a successful book last year, my first book actually, and now I’m struggling with he follow up. I’m afraid it won’t be as good, that I’ll end up being a one-hit wonder.”

Herb listened attentively, nodding sympathetically as he moved a pawn on the chessboard. “I understand how you feel,” he said, his eyes focused on the game. “I used to be a successful business man, back in my prime, but I lost everything in the crash of ’29. I thought it was the end of the world for me. But then I realized I had a chance to start over, to rebuild from scratch.”

Arthur listened intently as Herb continued to speak, filling him with a sense of hope.

“In my life time I’ve learned that life is like a game of chess,” he said. “Sometimes you make the right moves, sometimes you make the wrong ones. But starting from square one isn’t all that bad. It’s a chance to learn from your mistakes and make better moves in the future.”

Arthur considered his words, mulling them over in his mind, and felt a small bud of hope blooming within his chest.

“What I’m saying is,” Herb continued, moving another piece and capturing Arthur’s knight, “you can’t let fear hold you back, young man. Success is great, but its not everything. Failure is just another step in the journey. If you don’t try, you’ll never know what you’re capable of.”

Arthur looked at the chessboard, his mind racing with possibilities. Despite losing his knight, he could see a new pathway that opened up, one that would lead to Herb’s defeat. As he moved his queen into position, he couldn’t help but reflect on the old man’s words.

He realized that the fear of failure had been holding him back as a writer. He needed to take risks, push himself out of his comfort zone to grow, even if it meant that he failed in the process.

“Checkmate,” Arthur said confidently, a spark of determination in his eyes.

Herb’s eyes crinkled again as he knocked his king over, acknowledging Arthur’s victory. With newfound inspiration, Arthur expressed his gratitude to the old man for the game and advice, promising to take his words to heart.

As he walked back to his house, he felt a sense of lightness he hadn’t experienced in months. His mind was clear, and he felt refreshed with a renewed sense of purpose and drive.

Arthur raced to his office and sat in his old, familiar chair. With a deep breath, he shook the mouse, and the screen came to life, revealing the abandoned word document he had left earlier. With unwavering determination, he dived into the keyboard like a cliff diver barreling towards the water. A surge of energy washed over him as the words flowed from his fingertips, filling the pages with his story.

That evening, Arthur smiled to himself as he saved his work and closed his laptop. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he felt more confident than ever that he could write something just as good, if not better, than his first book. He glanced over at the small red tome on his shelf, and for the first time, he believed that it wouldn’t be the only one for much longer.