Getting Started

This time was different.

She was not sure if she liked it this way, or not.

This time, when she arrived on the blank page, it was not blank.

There was a room there.

Not much of a room, admittedly.

It was rectangular, maybe even square. She was not that bothered about knowing if it was actually square, but it looked it, more or less. Although, the room wasn’t much, just four walls, a floor and a ceiling.

At least she approved of the way he was developing her character this time. She hated being one of those protagonists that had to know – or even worse knew from a glance – whether the room they were in was actually a square, or if it just looked that way.

Actually, to be more exact it is a cube, a voice at the back of her mind said. She gave her head a quick shake to kill the thought before it became part of her character. And, she thought, as a subtle way of discovering what colour hair he’d given her this time.

But there was no swish of hair across her neck and face, no blonde, red, brunette, black, white or grey, nothing. Her hand shot up to her head.

She sighed. At least she was not bald. There was that time… but that hadn’t even got as far as a short story. Which, in a way was a good thing. If it had gone on to novel length she was sure the stubble would have started to itch. Knowing him, the author, he would have used the head shaving as something symbolic, or at least reflective as she stared at herself in the mirror, deliberately playing with the societal norms of feminine beauty.

She looked around the square – possibly – room. The cube. Now, there was no mirror. She checked her hand again, at least that was human… this time. It looked young too, which was always an advantage, especially if this was going to be a thriller or some other action genre. It was no fun running from the bad guys when you were getting on a bit. This wasn’t Hollywood, after all. Certainly not on the money he was getting, writing this kind of stuff.

Sondra looked up, wondering where that name had come from. Was it another one of those actresses he had a thing about?


Once you got to know the mind you were a figment from, you tended to see patterns emerging, stock characters, stock situations.

A thought struck here and she looked around.

Yes. There were no doors or windows in the bare room, just a plain white ceiling, plain white walls, and bare floorboards. The floorboards were a nice touch, she… Sondra had to admit. At least he’d listened that time when she screamed about going snow blind on a bare, bright white page.

He’d put clothes on her too…   this time. At least it was not going to be one of those stories, the ones he kept in the ‘special’ folder on his hard drive.

She stood in the middle of the room, arms akimbo, and the toe of her right boot tapping on the bare floorboard.

Any moment now, Sondra thought, there will be an inciting incident and we can get this show on the road.

The, in the bare white wall in front of her, a wooden door appeared.

‘At last,’ Sondra said, her voice echoing in the empty room. ‘Now we can begin.’



Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

5 thoughts on “Getting Started

      1. You need two be careful, saying things like that. By now you must have a pretty good idea what my imagination is like. There is no telling where the poor woman could end up.


      2. Hahaha at least she’s fully clothed (for the moment) don’t want her catching a chill when she walks through the door – that’s if it’s an ‘outside’ door that is :0)


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