Amanda

The Writer’s Room: Empty Room

The Writer’s Room: Empty Room

From the Adventures of Tee Bone Man & Edie Van Heelin’

Mike sat alone, the lights dimmed, head in hands.  How could things have been going so very well, and then suddenly, so very wrong?

He sincerely believed he had surrounded himself with some of the best talent and support there was.  He valued the always reliable Harrison, his co-writer and artist that they called the Mad Metal Man.  There was Snowman, 80s Metal Man, and Aaron all on his team.  The writer’s room had just expanded to include two new members by remote conference: Holen and the California Girl known as MarriedandHeels.  And now…

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” lamented Mike, staring at the blank screen in front of him.

His coffee had grown cold and his head ached from the strain.  Before him was a blank page with just a title.  “California Girls’s notes – The Adventures Of Edie Van Heelin'”.  A teardrop hit the page.  Mike suddenly and furiously balled up the sheet of paper and launched it into the waste bin.

“How did it go from so very right, to so terrible wrong, so fast?” he asked the empty room.  The room only echoed his question back at him.

They were such good friends.  They worked so well together.  Edie was Mike’s creation, but it was the California Girl who made the character come to life.  Without her input, the character lay flat on the page; no colour, no personality, no joy.

“No green peach tea…no watermelon honey…” sighed Mike.  He had no idea what she was drinking these days.  Those kinds of details couldn’t be made up.  They could only come from her.

Hunched over the table, uncontrollably, he began sobbing.

There was a knock at the door, and Harrison poked his Australian head in.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” whispered the well-coifed man.  “Is everything alright in here?”

Mike looked up, his eyes red, and Harrison knew that everything was not alright.  He took his seat at the table and let Mike talk.

Looking down at his hands, playing with his pen, he simply said “She’s gone.”

Harrison knew who he meant without asking.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I’m not much good at these kinds of situations, but you can talk to me if you like.”

Mike took a deep breath.  “There’s only so much I can say.  It’s not her fault.  On the surface it seemed our friendship was rock solid.  We worked really well together.  But we had an argument.  One that we can’t come back from…and now it’s over.”

“Are you alright?” asked Harrison.

“I will be,” sniffed Mike.  “Everything reminds me of her.  Literally everything…she’s on my clothes, she’s in my stories, she’s on a magnet on my fridge…she’s everywhere.  I can’t forget her or erase her.”

Harrison, always the practical one rather than emotional, posed the question on his mind.

“What does this mean for the future of our stories?” he asked.

Mike thought a moment.

“Well…Edie Van Heelin’…I can’t do Edie without her.  It would be like Paul Stanley trying to be Kiss without Gene.  I need my Gene.  I guess that’s it for Edie Van Heelin’.”

Harrison was sad to hear this.  “I’m sorry about that,” he said.  “I know how much you liked writing those stories.”

“I loved writing that character,” corrected Mike.  “I loved working with her on it, but that situation was not sustainable long-term.  It was simply never meant to last.”

“So what will we do?” asked Harrison.

“I know…I know…we have the big crossover with Tee Bone Man coming,” lamented Mike.  “The epic conclusion to the Squirrel Saga.  It has to go up as planned.  It’s the lynchpin.  It connects everything together.  And it was supposed to launch Edie as a new teammate for Tee Bone Man.  Now…”  Mike trailed off into silence.

Harrison let the room be silent a few moments.  Then he raised his followup question.

“Does this mean…Plan B?” he asked with concern.

Mike’s lips trembled a bit.

“I just finished writing Plan B,” he said with sad seriousness.  Plan B was an idea that he had, just in case everything went south.  His relationship with California Girl had become tense in recent days, and he was worried that something like this might occur.  Against his mightiest wishes, that eventuality has now transpired.  It was, sadly, inevitable.  “I wish I never got her involved in my creative life.  I feel so stupid,” he spat.

Harrison consoled him.  “Don’t say that,” he advised.  “You had some very good times, and wrote some great stories.  No matter what has happened now, the things you did were worth it.”

Mike wiped a tear away.  “You think so?  Bringing her into this now creates a mess we have to figure a way out of.”

Harrison pondered a moment.  “Do you mind if I read Plan B?”

“Go ahead,” said Mike, turning the monitor on, and pushing it in Harrison’s direction.  Harrison clasped the mouse and began reading.  Mike watched his eyes dart from line to line, registering shock, melancholy, excitement, and finally terrible sadness.  By the time Harrison had finished reading, he was visibly moved by the story.

After a pause, Harrison said with dead seriousness, “This is one of the best things you’ve ever written.  You can feel the emotions.  This will be very difficult to illustrate.”

“Had to be done,” said a somber Mike as he looked down.  “We needed to end Edie’s story as epic as it began.”

“I agree,” nodded Harrison.  “It’s too good not to post.  But how are you feeling?”

Mike took a while to answer.  “I’m heartbroken.  I’m in pain.  And I think that comes across in the story.”  He paused a moment longer.  “I always said that girl had a natural charisma that made people want to know her.  And look what that did to me.”

“All great artists must suffer for their art,” Harrison comforted.

“Bah!” said Mike with a smile.  “Nothing about my art is great.  But it made me feel good.  And that feeling is gone, for now.”

“I hope the feeling returns,” said a sincere Harrison.

“It will, one day,” responded Mike.  “Don’t get me wrong, my friend.  I don’t really regret anything with her, except the end.  There was hurt inflicted on both sides, but it’s not a competition, and I can’t go back and change it.  What’s done is done.  And I hope she’s OK, wherever she is, whatever she’s doing.  I just want her to be OK.  And hopefully she remembers me well.  I know I will remember her with sadness, but also fondly.”

“A lovely sentiment,” said Harrison, “and possibly a good note on which to end this meeting.  You need to get home, get rested, and recover.  Please do that.”

Mike nodded affirmative.  “I will do that, I promise.  I just need a few more moments alone.”

“Talk to you tomorrow,” said Harrison as he stood to exit.  He quietly closed the door as he left, whispering “May the Force be with you,” to his friend.

As the door clicked shut, Mike collapsed back into his chair and let the tears run down his face.  Alone in the writer’s room, Mike spoke to the California Girl as if she could hear him.

“I miss you, my friend,” he said.  “I probably always will.  The creative energy we shared…it was a rare gift.  It can never be duplicated.  But more important than that…you were my friend.  I wish we never fought.  I wish that argument never happened.  But it had to happen.  It couldn’t be avoided, and now I have to pick up the pieces and carry on without you.  You’ll be fine without me — you were fine before I came along, and will be long after I’m gone.  Me, I’ll always have a California sized hole in my heart.”

He stood, and made his way to the door.

“Goodbye, my California Girl,” he whispered.  And with that the room was empty again.

The end

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

 

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

 

Part 232: Amanda

RECORD STORE TALES Part 232:  Amanda

Although by this time, 2004, I had become a jaded prick in the relationship game, I decided to give dating another shot.  I met this girl from Cambridge named Amanda, nice girl, nothing wrong with her.  It was quickly obvious however that it wasn’t working out.  She liked Trailer Park Boys and had her own car which was a bonus.  She just didn’t get my passion for the rock.

Back at that time I was already working on the Record Store Tales.  In the original sequence of events, I was actually writing what was then supposed to be Part 13:  Perspective.  Most of the original Record Store Tales were excised, but the original Part 13 would have fit in between what became today’s Part 4 and Part 5.  As I was home writing Part 13, Amanda was on MSN, wanting to chat.  Even though my record store bosses regularly accused me of abusing MSN Messenger at work, I have never like it.  I’m an email guy. I always found it annoying.

AMANDAI told Amanda I was deep in a creative mode and I wanted to finish writing this chapter.  She waited about 10 or 15 minutes before pestering.  She was bored, but I was in the midst of what seemed like a multitude of musical and personal revelations.  It was just one sign that she didn’t really get what I was about.

That weekend it snowed.  I was working the Saturday, and after work she picked me up to go and get something to eat.  I had just read an article about Yusef Islam, the former Cat Stevens, and how he was on a no-fly list in a world of post-911 paranoia.  Two subjects I’m passionate about are music and politics.  While I leave politics aside for LeBrain’s Blog, I do like to discuss issues in private.  Making conversation, I asked her if she’d heard this story about Cat Stevens.  She was irritable about having to drive in the snow, and didn’t answer.  I quietly asked again, trying to thaw the personal ice a bit.

“Did you hear that story, about Cat Stevens?” I prodded.

“Actually, I don’t care,” she answered.

We went out to eat, but those words just ate away at me.  She didn’t care.  And music is the most important thing in my life.  Who was I trying to fool?  This wasn’t going to work out.

The next time we spoke, we agreed to part ways.  She was pretty upset.

Looking back, the funny thing to me is the day when I was all wrapped up in the writing of the original Part 13.  For all my bluster about being a “writer” and “an artist” working on “my story”, and pouring all my soul into it, Part 13 didn’t even make the cut in the end!  Crappy writing is crappy writing and some would say I haven’t improved much since!