The Sandcastle Files
By: Michael Cottle
Jane spent the morning cleaning the basement while hyped up on energy drinks. Caffeine was the greatest motivator that she had ever known, but sometimes that wasn’t enough to defeat her procrastination-at least not when it came to her writing.
Jane would finish that series if it was the last thing she ever did. It would be a tribute to her life’s work. Something real and of sustenance, and not some sort of April fool’s joke shared amongst friends.
With another shot of Red Bull, she sat down with her laptop and pulled up the document. “Oh my” she thought when the document opened. “I’ve highlighted in yellow nearly every single word that I’ve typed!”
For the next four hours, she went through the yellow highlights and did some difficult editing. She answered all of the tough questions to her satisfaction. “Was it relevant? Was it interesting? Did it fit the plot? Was it dragging? Did it show, or did it tell?”
There were 48 chapters in all with just over 96,000 words. And she had went through all of them at least five times over again. Yet, something wasn’t quite right.
“I am missing something here” Jane thought. “Somewhere there is an inconsistency in the characters or the plot. I can feel it. But what is it?”
She went through several suspected problem chapters again, but found nothing out of the ordinary. The hour was late, and she missed dinner completely.
“The editor” she thought. “My editor is a god send. If not the editor, then surely one of my beta readers. They will catch it, and I shall fix it before the printing.”
And with those thoughts, Jane relaxed a little. She warmed a late dinner in the microwave. Some leftover baked chicken with vegetables. Only iced sweet tea would go with such a meal. It was one of her southern favorites- lightly sweetened of course.
She sat down at the table with the laptop. Still shuffling through chapters to find what troubled her so. But it was no use. She could find nothing.
Eating was good. She was becoming herself once more. The energy drink had long disappeared, and she was once again plain Jane. Even leftover, the chicken was fabulous.
But then, the unthinkable had happened. A light flashed in the window. What light, she would never know, but her right hand jerked to the left knocking the glass of iced sweet tea onto the laptop in the process.
The screen of the laptop went black and fell silent.
Jane hit the power button repeatedly, but there was nothing. It never made another light or sound.
*********************************
The next day, Jane went to the beach. She fancied herself a new laptop with Microsoft Word already installed. She would finish that series if it was the last thing she ever did. She was already at nearly 500 words again. She recalled her last novel, how the files were erased so easily. Just then, the tide came in and washed away a nearby sandcastle. The similarities were rather odd.
By: Michael Cottle
Jane spent the morning cleaning the basement while hyped up on energy drinks. Caffeine was the greatest motivator that she had ever known, but sometimes that wasn’t enough to defeat her procrastination-at least not when it came to her writing.
Jane would finish that series if it was the last thing she ever did. It would be a tribute to her life’s work. Something real and of sustenance, and not some sort of April fool’s joke shared amongst friends.
With another shot of Red Bull, she sat down with her laptop and pulled up the document. “Oh my” she thought when the document opened. “I’ve highlighted in yellow nearly every single word that I’ve typed!”
For the next four hours, she went through the yellow highlights and did some difficult editing. She answered all of the tough questions to her satisfaction. “Was it relevant? Was it interesting? Did it fit the plot? Was it dragging? Did it show, or did it tell?”
There were 48 chapters in all with just over 96,000 words. And she had went through all of them at least five times over again. Yet, something wasn’t quite right.
“I am missing something here” Jane thought. “Somewhere there is an inconsistency in the characters or the plot. I can feel it. But what is it?”
She went through several suspected problem chapters again, but found nothing out of the ordinary. The hour was late, and she missed dinner completely.
“The editor” she thought. “My editor is a god send. If not the editor, then surely one of my beta readers. They will catch it, and I shall fix it before the printing.”
And with those thoughts, Jane relaxed a little. She warmed a late dinner in the microwave. Some leftover baked chicken with vegetables. Only iced sweet tea would go with such a meal. It was one of her southern favorites- lightly sweetened of course.
She sat down at the table with the laptop. Still shuffling through chapters to find what troubled her so. But it was no use. She could find nothing.
Eating was good. She was becoming herself once more. The energy drink had long disappeared, and she was once again plain Jane. Even leftover, the chicken was fabulous.
But then, the unthinkable had happened. A light flashed in the window. What light, she would never know, but her right hand jerked to the left knocking the glass of iced sweet tea onto the laptop in the process.
The screen of the laptop went black and fell silent.
Jane hit the power button repeatedly, but there was nothing. It never made another light or sound.
*********************************
The next day, Jane went to the beach. She fancied herself a new laptop with Microsoft Word already installed. She would finish that series if it was the last thing she ever did. She was already at nearly 500 words again. She recalled her last novel, how the files were erased so easily. Just then, the tide came in and washed away a nearby sandcastle. The similarities were rather odd.