The Memoir of A Writer

I scrunched up the paper, for what it seems, like the thousandth time. I begin to feel sorry for the notebook in front of me, however it's nothing compared to the annoyance and anger I feel over how I cannot think of any idea on what to write next. So much for the famous author, Ellesmere Perry. I should live up to my reputation. After all, the previous book series that just got published about a dystopian world where the government takes orphaned children to conduct experiments giving them superhuman powers and use them as military weapons backfires when the children fight back, became such a huge hit.

I should be celebrating, however my assistant, Yasmine Wong, says I need to focus on writing something new, just as amazing as the series I came up with. Now, that's seemingly impossible. It takes a long while to finally come up with a spectacular idea that would hook the readers from page one. Writing is definitely not an easy task. However, it is a fun profession, being imaginative and brainstorming new ideas...

The problem is it just doesn't happen every time.

My phone buzzes a top the table and looking at the caller ID, it's Yasmine. I slide my finger on Accept and say, "Yes, Yasmine?"

"Have you came up with any story idea yet?" she asks, immediately. "You have an interview in a few days, they'll discuss on what you're writing next, how and what the story is, have you finally came up with something?"

"Dear God, Yasmine," I say, rubbing my eyes. "I'm working on it."

"THAT MEANS YOU HAVEN'T!" she exclaims. Now, begins the lecture, "Oh my Lord, Claire! You have to think up of something, up until the 20th. Hurry, how hard could it be to come up with an idea? You literally wrote that whole series!"

"Yasmine," I say, all serious. "Don't you ever dare say those lame ass words to me."

"What words?" she asks.

"How hard could it be to come up with an idea?" I say, mocking her. "FYI, it's the absolute difficult thing to do. Do you have any idea how it is inside an author's head?"

"Alright, fine," she says. "I'm just saying, get ready and begin writing soon. The magazine wants to keep a small blurb or exert from your writing to get the reader's attention. Do so and then text me or call me." With that, she cut her phone. I look at the phone, pissed. She didn't even apologize.

Getting pissed, I close the notebook and get out of my apartment for some fresh air. Staying cooped up inside the apartment won't do any good anyway. I take frustrated steps down the stairs. I didn't want to take the lift.

I rush out and take long strides down the sidewalk. The weather is quite windy, the leaves are rustling in the breeze, my hair's flying out of my face. I stuff my hands inside my jacket pocket and walk on, not really having a destination in mind. Yasmine...really pisses me off sometimes.

I finally reach the park and I sit on an empty bench. Sighing, I slump against it. Sometimes, it really pisses me off that I chose this profession. I didn't expect it to be so difficult. When I was in University, taking Creative Writing class and Literature, it used to be fun. I didn't have to force ideas to come inside my head. They came naturally and I just wrote it, slowly forming ideas in my mind and noting everything down - the characters, the world building, the plot twists.

But now after my first series I ever wrote became a hit, people's expectations for my other works are flying over the roof. The only problem is...I don't think any of my other works would be as good as this awesome series that I came up with. I mean, this dystopian series that I wrote, it had been building in my head for a very long time and now that the duology has been published, people adore it. What book can I write next that could exceed their expectations?

How hard could it be to come up with an idea...honestly, those words should NOT - I repeat, SHOULD NOT - be told to any writer. Can anyone even comprehend how difficult it is to become a writer? Everything has to be perfect; the storyline, how we portray the characters, the plot twists, how we divide each scene into chapters, the language, what the story represents, making sure we don't lose track of what we initially hoped for. Everything.

After all, I used to be a reader myself, still am, and coming from a readers point of view, I would want an excellent book. The writer needs to empathise with the reader, that's what makes a pretty good book.

I lean back and look at the sky. My favourite moment to look at the sky is when the sunrises or when it sets. The sky turns into various different shades of colour and even the clouds seem to reflect it. It's just simply beautiful. I guess I'll just enjoy it for how it is, at this moment I don't really care about my story or the writing or anything. I'm just going to enjoy what's in front of me.

I blink.

I sit up straight.

Could that be an idea? I stand up and walk back to my apartment and this time I take the lift. When I reach my floor, I open the door...to find Yasmine sitting on my desk chair.

"Yasmine?" I ask.

"Where have you been?" she asks instead, looking at me. Then she gestures to the burger and fries and a Starbucks cup. "I brought you food. And you're right, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that Claire. I understand, it is really difficult to be a writer."

I take the Starbucks cup and ask, "Caramel latte?"

"Yup," she replies.

"Thanks," I say, sitting down on my bed. "And it's alright. I think I came up with an idea for my next work."

"That's great," she says, smiling. "Can I hear your idea?"

"I want to write a memoir," I say.

"What?" she asks, the smile vanishing from her face. "But...I thought you were going to start writing another science fiction, action or something along that line."

"No, no, this is necessary," I say, sipping on the caramel latte. "When you said those words, I remembered my father saying a few things that simply made me mad at him."

"You never talk about your father," Yasmine says, reaching for a fry and eating it.

"He hurt my feelings," I say. "He wanted me to study business, like him, but I wasn't interested. I wanted to become an author, and I made the decision that I'd study Literature and take Creative Writing. I told him so, however he told me that nothing would become of me if I chose such a profession."

"Why would he say that?" Yasmine asks, in shock.

"Perhaps he didn't expect that I'd be able to write anything all that good," I say, shrugging. "Boy, is he wrong."

"Maybe you should call him," Yasmine says. "You published the duology in your alias name, maybe you should tell him your books are famous worldwide."

"I will soon," I say, sipping on my latte.

"And what he says doesn't make you feel bad?" she asks, next.

"I'm a famous writer now, aren't I?" I say, smiling wide. "I don't need to worry about demotivating people like my father. Now, about the memoir, hear me out."

~

"Hello, Miss Perry," the interviewer, Thomas Andersen says, shaking my hand. "Congratulations on your success of the Insolitus book series. It's honestly anyone can talk about. How was your reaction when you found out the second book was just as successful as the first one?"

"Definitely shocked," I say, smiling. "I wasn't expecting so many people to like the second book but I'm glad majority of the reviews are positive."

"I heard there's also a movie going to be filmed based on the books?" he asks.

"I haven't really heard about that, but if it's true that would be epic," I say. "Although I hope they don't ruin the storyline while making the movie, that would be awful."

Mr. Andersen laughs and says, "Well, let's hope for the best. I hope there's a movie though, as you say it would be epic. Now, are you writing anything new currently?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Would you like to tell your readers about it?"

"This might come as a surprise," I say slowly. "But I'm actually writing a memoir."

"A memoir?" Mr. Andersen asks, raising his eyebrows. "Not some cool action packed story?"

"Well, I've already written one series that I absolutely adore," I say. "But this memoir means a lot to me as a writer itself."

"Would you like to explain a little about it, then?" he asks.

"Firstly, a lot of people don't know how hard a writer works," I say. "When people read their books, everything seems perfect, the storyline, the characters, everything. They don't know how many drafts they end up writing or editing, or the time it takes for world building and character development. Sometimes, we get writer's block too and wish to completely quit writing itself."

"So, basically, through this memoir I want to highlight the struggles writers have and how they keep motivating themselves, and with the help of others, to get back on track and complete what they started."

"That's - That's actually a really well thought out book you're planning," Mr. Andersen says, nodding appreciatively. "I'm really looking forward to it."

"Thank you, sir," I say, smiling and hoping I can pull this writing off when I finally begin to write it.

~

"Look at the reviews here, Claire!" Yasmine says, walking inside my apartment. "A very original idea, wonderful, splendid...many people are looking forward to it!"

"I'm glad," I say, typing the story.

"This is honestly a really awesome idea, Claire!" Yasmine says for the millionth time. "This would really help motivate writers and the ones who are thinking about becoming writers!"

"You've mentioned this so many times," I say, turning to look at her. "And where's my caramel latte? You said you'd bring it."

"Oh, sorry, what with all the excitement," she says grinning and walks out the door. Sighing, I look at the document, not having decided a title yet. But considering this is for all writers I begin typing -

The Memoir Of A Writer by Ellesmere Perry