“I know you’re having a writer’s getaway,” Nora says. “The place looks new. Did they remodel the one you usually stay in?”
I look behind me and around me, holding the laptop to give readers a view of the place. “Nope. Had to pick one on the opposite side of the lake this time. But look at this place. It’s insane.”
“Wow. Should have invited me,” Nora says.
“You know we never work when we’re together.”
“Yeah. Your fault, though. You’re always turning on some addictive murder series, and then we get caught up in watching every episode, and before you know it, our days are up and vacation is over.”
“Vacation,” I say with a laugh. “I wish. I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation.”
“Oh, don’t sound spoiled,” Nora says. “You’re in a sleek rental that isn’t your home. I don’t care if you’re working or not—at least you aren’t somewhere worse. Like here, in my apartment, having to listen to my neighbor fight with her ex over the phone every hour. Speaking of struggle, how is the writing going?”
I shrug, feeling the burden of my lack of progress settle in again. “I haven’t even been here for a whole day yet, but I can just feel my stagnation on the horizon. Eighteen months and I barely have twenty pages.”
Her brow furrows, and she tilts her head, her voice dropping into a more serious tone. “You need to talk through it?”
“I was about to go to bed when you called,” I admit. “Already shut off my brain for the night.”
Nora groans dramatically, throwing her head back. “I was hoping for a chapter or two.”
I smile, despite myself. “You and me both.”
Nora waves off my concerns with a dismissive hand. “You’re way too hard on yourself.”
I sigh, the familiar self-criticism rising to the surface. “I’m my own worst critic. Or at least I used to be.”
She rolls her eyes at me, something she’s done a hundred times when I get like this. “Did you at least decide on character names yet?”
“I did get that far.” I shift in my chair, feeling a little proud of the progress, as small as it is. “Cameron is the main love interest of the heroine. He goes by Cam. The heroine will be Reya.”
Nora’s eyes light up. “Cam and Reya,” she says, testing the names out. “I like those. Are they married, or do we get a meet-cute?”
“Both, in a way. Cam is married,” I say, hesitantly. “At least in the outline I wrote almost two years ago.”
Nora’s eyebrow rises. “Oh. Unexpected. A triangle?”
I hesitate, glancing off-screen for a moment as if the answer might be hiding somewhere in the shadows. “I don’t know. That’s how I had planned it, but ... I might change it. You never know.” I originally outlined this story before the backlash from the adaptation, and I think that’s part of what has me blocked. The fear that maybe I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to writing about things I haven’t experienced.
“No, no, no,” Nora says, leaning forward toward the camera, her expression an animated betrayal. “You know love triangles are my favorite. I want the triangle.” She’s whining now.
“Let’s just hope I get at least one character fleshed out, much less three. Then we’ll talk.”
“Deal. Okay, let’s take a question,” Nora says, her eyes squinting as she scans the screen. Like she suggested, I have the chat box minimized and leave the sifting up to her.
“Here’s one. Ally Panzano wants to know why this one has taken you so long to finish. ‘You’ve always been a fast writer,’” Nora says, reading off the question.
I lean back in my chair, wondering how to delicately approach this one. “If you’re looking for complete transparency, I’d have to say ...the public attention. I’m not used to it. I don’t like it. Not even the positive attention.”
“It’s true,” Nora confirms. “She squirms just as much when she’s complimented.”
“I’ve always used writing as both an escape and therapy, and when you’re in it and enjoying it, you aren’t thinking about what comes after you finish writing. The book releases, the book tours happen, the interviews begin. I’ve never really found that stressful because I’ve always enjoyed the tours and release days. To an extent. I’ve never enjoyed the publicity, but the requests have been manageable. But now that my public image is amplified even more, everything that comes after the writing feels more fraught, so I stress about it more than I used to when things were less chaotic. The idea of finishing a book and writingThe Enddoesn’t feel like it’ll be an accomplishment. It actually fills me with fear that I’ll have to enter that next phase of publicity. And that’s what scares me now, because the publicity requests and content of the interviews have changed. And not everyone is born with a natural ability to speak in front of a camera, especially when you’re being asked to speak on more than just your books.”
Nora smiles at me. “Thank you for your vulnerability, Petra. That was a really good answer. Very honest. Okay, here’s another one.‘Why did it sound like you’re hesitating to write the love triangle in this new book? Is it because of what happened with the love triangle being cut out of the adaptation?’”
“Is that a real question from a reader, or is that aNoraquestion?” I ask, raising a brow at her.
“It’s a real one, I promise,” she says, laughing.
