That made me laugh. “Don’t be ashamed of chasing your dream. I’m fine with you picking my brain.”
“You are?”
I nodded.
“Well, then, what would you write if you were just getting into it?”
She looked so hopeful I put real thought into my answer. “I would write what you love to read because eventually, even if you become a mega bestseller, you’re going to lose interest in your own work if you don’t believe in what you’re writing. Like, I might be able to crank out a few science fiction books because they’re selling well, but eventually, I would veer off because what I really love is vampires and witches. I could write a mystery with vampires and witches and be okay as long as I can make it my own. If it’s something that I have no interest in, though, that’s going to show in my writing.”
Lexie considered it for what felt like a really long time. “That’s smart,” she said finally.
She looked so agog all I could do was laugh. “It’s been known to happen.” When I looked over, I found Brody watching me with thoughtful eyes.
Has he been listening?When he realized I was looking, he smiled and turned back to the reader he was talking to. We were never going to be best friends. That just wasn’t in the cards. Butthat didn’t mean a truce was out of the question. That would likely be better for both of us.
BARB HARRIS—OR BARB HARASSMENT, AS Iwas starting to think of her—was a superfan. She knew everything I’d ever written—down to details I couldn’t remember without help—and seemed disappointed when I couldn’t give her the keys to my paranormal universe.
“How can you not remember that?” she demanded. There was anger in her eyes. Like,realanger. “It was a huge plot point in your third book.”
“Dante not putting the book down when he was in the Legends library was a huge plot point?” I asked.
“He didn’t put it down. That means he left with it.” Barb was adamant, her tone accusatory. “You said nobody could leave the library with the books. There’s a magical alarm that goes off when they try.”
“Nobody left with a book,” I assured her.
“Dante didn’t put it down.”
“Just because I didn’t write that he put the book back, that doesn’t mean that he didn’t.”
The look that took over Barb’s face was evil. “Um … that’s not how it works. You have to write what’s important. Dante didn’t put the book down. That means it was important.”
I didn’t want to burst her bubble. I had a rich fantasy life when I was reading too. Sometimes, however, readers took things to the extreme in a very bad way. This was one of those instances.
“I promise you that Dante didn’t take a book from the Legends library,” I assured her. “The rules are still intact.”
“But you didn’t write that!” Barb’s voice ratcheted up a notch. She was intense.
Uncertain what to do—she seemed close to a meltdown—I glanced over and found Brody watching us. He’d clearly picked up on the woman’s tone. Rather than flee, which would have been the smart thing to do, he edged closer to us.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, a tepid smile on his face.
I took advantage of his appearance to distract Barb. “Have you met Big Butt…” I caught myself before I could finish it out. “Have you met B. B. Bates?” I asked.
Brody gave me a dark look before shaking his head. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was trying to hide a smile. “I write fantasy,” he said to Barb, clearly not expecting that to mean anything to her.
“Oh, I know,” Barb said, bobbing her head. “I have a list of things to discuss with you too.”
“You do?” Brody looked surprised. I didn’t blame him. There wasn’t a lot of overlap between paranormal romance and high fantasy, even though my books were a bit of a hybrid that solidly straddled the line between urban fantasy and high fantasy. They were separate readerships.
“Yes.” Barb turned her full attention to Brody. “I want to know why Rapscallion didn’t return to his father’s kingdom to explain about the sword before he went on his adventure.”
Brody looked completely caught off guard. “Um … he did.”
“No, he didn’t.” Barb vigorously shook her head. “I’ve checked three times. Rapscallion left on his adventure and never said anything to his father, and yet his father doesn’t seem too worried that he’s no longer in the castle.”
The way Brody worked his mouth, reminding me of a fish out of water, had me ducking my head. He saw my smile of course, but avoiding eye contact stopped me from bursting out laughing.
“I guess I don’t remember that part,” Brody said finally.
