A blank screen stares at me. I’ve completely run out of ideas. My savings have
dwindled and if I don’t get a book out by the end of the year, I’d have to take a
job. With my lack of qualification & experience, it would most likely be a
minimal wage job.
Think Johnny. What inspired you to write the last eight books?
My name is John Abbott. Some people consider me a successful author. I think
of myself as just another writer, though I haven’t done much writing in the past
twenty months. I call it a dry spell. Three of the books I’ve written became best
sellers. People think I’m rich. In reality, I make enough from the books to support
a very modest lifestyle for myself, and slightly luxurious ones for ex-wife number
1, Kelly, and ex-wife number 2, Martha.
Perhaps that’s the reason the ideas won’t flow into words - the resentment that
they get most of what I make.
I remove my glasses and walk over to the dresser. Not bad looking for a 45 year
old man. I still have a head full of hair, although I’m starting to grey at the temples.
My body looks great thanks to long hours at the gym. I’m trying to grow a beard to
cover the psoriasis patches on my face. So far so good, as long as I ignore the itch.
The doorbell rings. It’s Angelica - my agent.
‘We need to talk,’ she says as she walks past me into the living room.
‘You said I had until the end of the year to work on it,’ I complain.
‘It’s not about your book Johnny.’ She sits on the couch and pats the seat next to
her.
I’m confused. If it’s not about the book, what is it?
‘I’m pregnant.’
Did I mention I may have slept with my agent a couple of times?
‘Is it mine?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure?’
She glares at me. ‘Yes.’
I never wanted children. Too much responsibility. Which is why my first marriage
ended. Kelly wanted a big family, I didn’t. We divorced amicably, but she got a better
lawyer, hence a better lifestyle.
‘How many months?’ I asked her.
‘Three.’
I had gone to see Angelica to tell her that I was giving up writing. She had been my
agent from the start of my career. I could always count on her for encouragement
and support. She convinced me to continue. ‘One more book. Make it a good book
then you retire. How else are you going to support yourself?’
She had a point. With no other prospects, I had only my writing to fall back on. She
quelled my protests on writers block by taking me out for a drink. A bar is a good
place to get a story started - so many characters, so many possibilities. We may have
drunk too much and thought too little because we ended up in bed.
‘What are you planning to do?’
‘I’m keeping the baby. I’m 44 years old and I’ve never gotten pregnant before. This
may very well be my only chance to have a child.’
‘Ok, it is your decision to make. What role do you see me playing in this?’
‘THAT is your decision to make. I think I’m quite capable of bringing up a child on my
own. Naturally, having a father around would be ideal but I’m not about to force you
into a situation you wouldn’t care for. I know how you feel about children.’
‘Would it upset you if I wanted to think about this?’
‘I wouldn’t rush you into such a big decision. Take your time. I’ll be going for an
ultrasound tomorrow afternoon. You’re welcome to join me at the Family Clinic at
2pm.’
‘Thanks for telling me Angelica.’
After she’s left, I think about Martha. All she cared about was money. I had been
smitten by her looks. We got married because she wanted to be Mrs John Abbott.
We got divorced because she then fell in love with our gardener, Cliff Nealy. They
now live together (in sin) off her alimony.
Angelica’s different. She’s smart, independent, mature and beautiful. She has a
successful agency which represents a handful of notable writers and some unknown
ones too. I’ve never known her to date anyone, though she must, being single,
successful and gorgeous.
A baby, huh? Perhaps it’s time. I never figured myself as the fatherly type, but it
might be nice to have a child around. A baby is a huge responsibility. I have to
prepare financially. I get back to my desk, look at the screen and start typing:
A night of drunken passion changes a man’s life...
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