Psychology 101

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Two Rivers

Chapter 6 (v.1) - The Writer Goes to Work

Submitted: January 17, 2018

Reads: 55

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Submitted: January 17, 2018

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Bob Kessim set up on the corner of 42nd Street and 6th Avenue, the beginning of the Midtown walking tour.  He figured these people wouldn’t be in a hurry and would question him about his project to write a mini-novel for food.  Anyway, maybe girls might be intrigued by what he was doing and stop by to talk.

He put his laptop on top of his card table and his printer under it with a battery inverter, his latest addition to his equipment.  It meant he could write all day and operate his printer without having to search for a plug for power. 

He got a few stares as he put his sign out and began to work on a story he had been working on for a few weeks.  Finally, some girls from the walking tour came and offered him a bagel to write them a novel to take home and show their friends back home, written by a complete stranger.  They had to move on with the tour but said they would return to retrieve their story.  He didn’t know if they would ever come back, but it got him inspired to get on with writing something new instead of his stale old tale he had been working on. 

He wrote about two girls from Iowa, where they were from, coming to New York and both falling in love with the same guy, and finally having a fight and vowing never speaking to each other again.  He threw in a few action scenes where they fought openly in the lobby of their hotel and finally even got separate rooms for the rest of their time in New York City.  Back in Iowa, one of the girls realizes she is pregnant.  Her friend gets married and finally shows up to aid her pregnant friend in the pregnancy and giving birth.  The pregnant girl dies in childbirth and the other one takes the baby to raise as her own to the chagrins of her new husband.

He was just finishing up when the two girls showed up to retrieve their novel.  They loved it and the three of them had quite a discussion over what they would do in the same circumstance.  “I would never fight with you,” the pretty one said to her friend.  “Not over some guy!” 

The other added, “Me neither unless he is sweet, sensitive, and good looking.”

The pretty one turned to Bob and winked.  “Hey, what you are doing tonight?”  Bob just smiled, and then they moved on with their group.  

He looked after them as they were leaving.  The pretty one turned and smiled at him.  “Well, that wasn’t so hard and fun too,” he thought.

As he continued with his project when a middle-aged man stopped and said to him, “Write me a novel and I’ll buy you supper.”

“Okay!” Bob said.  He knew who the guy was.  It was Stephen King.  “What are the odds of Steven King stopping by here in the middle of Manhattan,” he thought.  King walked away as Bob began his mini-novel for him.  He wondered if he was really serious. 

He wrote a novel about an author and his wife being co-creators of the vast array of horror novels to ever hit the bookstands.  Little did people know that even though the man’s name appeared on all the books in order to guarantee sales, his wife was the true author and the man only a proofreader to his wife’s writings.  When she finally had enough of the man’s vanity, she paid a hit man to run over her husband and kill him making it look like an accident.  However, the husband lived and the sells soared.  The husband suspected the truth, but public never found out what really had happened. 

However, King did show up and read the mini-novel only smiling.  “Okay, let’s go to supper, big boy!” he said.  “I know a place around the corner.” 

Bob packed up all his stuff and tailed along to the diner.  He set everything on the floor and slid into the booth opposite of King.  “Did you have any bites, little pun, on your stories for food?” King asked. 

“Only two,” Bob said.  “You and two girls from Iowa.”

“Too bad, you are really good.”

They ordered and got to talking about writing.  Finally, King said, “I’d like to introduce you to my agent.”

“Okay,” Bob said, hardly able to contain himself.

King gave him the info and then said he had to go.  He tucked his story that Bob written in his loose-fitting sports jacket that remained open during the whole ordeal.  “I’ll see you at the pinnacle of success, Bobby Kessim,” King said as he shook Bob’s hand.  He began to slide out of the booth, and then Bob pulled out a piece of paper and wrote the letters: LOCK on it.  “Can you tell me what this means?”

 


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