She looked around. There wasn’t anything to see.
The page was blank from header to footer and from left margin to right margin. There was nothing on it. She stepped back a page.
The story was still there. A busy Far Eastern thoroughfare, thronging with traffic, from cars to motor bikes and bicycles, vans, trucks and those little motorbike taxi things the writer hadn’t researched the names of, yet. Or even if they existed in this particular location… wherever it was
Kelly stood for a moment, hands on hips as the crowd surged around her, occasionally bumping into her. The traffic steered itself around her, knowing she was the central character and that without her none of it would exist.
She walked back to the bottom of the page, peering over the page break. The next page was still blank.
Where was he now?
Kelly was still not used to this writer nipping off mid-scene to ‘do some research’. She’d seen the sort of thing he was researching. She was adamant that she was not that sort of character. If he expected her to do that with anyone… he had another think coming.
Although, some of those male porn stars were impressive… in a physical sense, anyway.
But she was not the sort of female character easily impressed by a man’s physical attributes, no matter how big his….
She wasn’t entirely sure what this story was meant to be about, and she was increasingly certain that the writer didn’t have much idea either.
She knew, from glancing at his notes, while he was engrossed in his web bower ‘researching’ the Hot Blondes in Dallas website, that he’d seen a Bond-esque spy thriller recently. He’d seen how many those sort of books sold. Now he was desperately trying to come up with some semi-plausible plot involving a supervillain, exotic locations and stunning women that made the women on the Hot Blondes website look like a charabanc outing by the Aberystwyth Senior Ladies Knitting Club.
Kelly knew he wasn’t that sort of writer. He couldn’t do action scenes. His idea of a plot was having some deeply tortured soul look out of a window at the rain for sixteen chapters.
Kelly thought about taking a stroll across the blank page. Maybe he had an outline or something somewhere nearby. Not that he looked the sort for outlines, or non-pornographic ‘research’. He was under the illusion that he was an artist, someone who saw deep into the human condition and….
A load of bollocks, if you asked her.
Kelly wasn’t an action hero herself. She wasn’t even a particularly strong woman who took no bullshit, but she was quite prepared to do whatever the story demanded of her. Well, as long as it was not erotica. She didn’t want other women comparing themselves to her, not in that way, anyway.
She just wanted a nice story, plenty of excitement of course, but nothing too fraught. She’d been in one of this author’s attempts to write a zombie post-apocalyptic sci-fi horror story when they were all the rage, and it had given her nightmares for several chapters of the story after that.
Kelly glanced up. He was coming back. She leapt over the page break, back to where he’d left the story before his ‘research’ break.
He read over the last paragraph and prepared to type.
Kelly just hoped he’d washed his hands.