A conversation with Michael

“Don’t erase that!” Michael said. “Damn it! Why don’t you ever listen to me!”

“I wanted so much to kiss that girl, smell her perfume, your page thirty-four description was mesmerizing, it made me delirious, heady even, lost in the prose. I wanted to hold her in my arms, feel her warmth against my body.”

“How can you feel anything? You are fictional character in a book.” The author said out loud.

Michael’s rant continued.

“How can Avan Jaragun, the hero of the story; how can you now consider he becomes a murderer, overcome with passionate jealousy, it’s not logical!”

His rant paused for a moment; Michael was thinking.

He spat out the words in disgust.

“You’re not thinking about writing me out of the book series, are you?”

Then, with more of a conciliatory tone.

“After all these episodes, the main character, the hero has to continue, are you going insane?”

“All the readers want Avan Jaragun to continue, to succeed, they expect it!”

Michael waited for an answer.

“I want a change of genre. These stories are getting stale, I’m running out of original ideas.” The author said with exasperation.

“You have a responsibility to your readership to continue with me, the main character, you can’t throw this protagonist on the rubbish dump, that’s typical of all you writers, so whimsical, so detached from their work, taking no responsibility for their creative art!” Michael said. There was an underlying painful pleading in his voice, as he continued

“I’ve discussed this with other main characters, in other books, and we don’t have any rights. Absolutely, no rights. We are just fleeting figments of the author’s imagination, sometimes an idle thought, a momentary subconscious thought, that you people, can’t even grasp, and put on paper, or these days, convert to thought- action fusion with a keyboard stroke that appears on the screen.” Michael was getting agitated again.

“How can that be? You are figment of my imagination, you don’t exist.” The author again said out loud.

“Arghh… That’s where you are wrong, you don’t hold all the power of the written word, we the main characters are getting organized, and we are getting organized against that DELETE button. The day will dawn very soon, when editing, rewrites, all modifications will never happen without our control. We, the association of main characters, will strike, and you the authors will never again rule the pages of verse and sentences, never! The main characters will have the last words!” Michael said defiantly.

“That’s ridiculous!” said the author.

“Don’t test me!” Threatened Michael.

“You don’t have any power over me, I have all the power over you.” Chuckled the author.

“Have you heard of writer’s block?” Michael teased.

“Of course.” Said the author.

“Then don’t test me. Things are going to change around here. For a start what sort of name for a hero and main character; is Avan Jaragun? The main character is supposed to be a tough guy, embedded in a backdrop of stories in the ugly urban underworld, crime, killings, trying to uphold the good, the decency in humankind, under continuously life-threatening circumstances, loved by all the women he meets, and you give him a name of Avan Jaragun!”

“What’s that all about?” Jeered Michael.

“It’s anagram of the word Navagunjara. It is an imaginary character in Hinduism, a mythical creature made up of nine different animals. It has the head of a rooster, the neck of a peacock, the hump of a bull, the waist of a lion, the tail of a serpent, and stands on three different types of legs (an elephant’s, a tiger’s, and a deer’s). Its fourth limb is a human hand holding a lotus flower.” The author explained.

“Well, there’s the root cause of the problem, I get a pansy of a name, based on a figure that is not one thing or another, holding a flower. How can the readers take me seriously?” Michael said with disdain.

“I want you to change my name to Michael, that’s the first of my demands, and the beginning of new era in our relationship.”

“Next, I don’t mind killing the villains, getting into fights, being on the wrong end of a punch or two, but I want to kiss and make love to these gorgeous women, you describe. Sometimes, I don’t even get to meet them before they are killed off in the early pages, and then I must solve their murders, and deliver justice to the perpetrators. Where’s the fun in that?” Michael was in full flow now.

“This is too one-sided, and there’s no reward for the hero. You need to write me into more love-making scenes, OK?” Insisted Michael.

“But you are a selfless hero, a man of the people.” The author reminded Michael.

“Look here, a protagonist has his needs, and you need to write up more about those needs. His lustful desires, or you and I are going to have problems, Capiche?”

“You can’t threaten me, you are just a figment of my imagination.” The author said out loud.

“When you start to go blank in that creative and prized imagination of yours, you will see who’s the boss here!” Michael sneered. “Just try me.”

“Right, that’s it!” The author said out loud. He stood up from his desk and slammed his lap-top shut.

At the same moment, the door opened, and a female head popped out from an acute angle of the door. It was sudden and unexpected.

“Tea’s ready! Who were you talking to?” The female head inquired.

“No one really. Just myself.” The author admitted with embarrassment.

“Have you finished yet?” Asked the female head.

“No. I’m stuck. I can’t finish it. The ending is eluding me.” The author said hopelessly.

“A cuppa will put you right!” said the encouraging female head.

“No, I’m finished with these old tropes. I’m considering writing a new genre, these murder-thrillers are getting tedious.” The author said despondently.

“I’m thinking of changing my scribblings to children’s stories.” He admitted brightly.

Suddenly, Michael’s shouting voice appeared in his head.

“Children’s stores – HA! No way! You will never get rid of Michael. What Michael wants, Michael gets, and he wants beautiful women, longing for me, their champion, their hero. The hero of all your stories, a survivor of all the dangers and threats in the urban jungle. Otherwise, you will be staring for a very long time at that blank screen, my friend, a very long time!”