"A young man with literary ambition sets out to become a published writer. He must overcome procrastination, stunted creativity, an uncomfortable chair, and self doubt to fulfill his dream."
There's an awkward silence. My imaginary would be agent stares blankly for a good five seconds before she realizes that I'm finished. She's not sure what to do with this.
"So does he?" she asks, leading me along. "Become a published writer, I mean?"
"Well, in your case this is kind of like one of those choose your own adventure stories. It's up to you, really."
Her expression is a heterogeneous mix of doubt that she heard me correctly, and incredulous horror in knowing that she did. "Well," she eventually speaks, "I understand your hopes and I wish you luck but, well, I guess I'm a villain in this story."
___
I'm glad I don't have to pitch this story. This is the beginning right here, but I'm not certain about the middle or the end. I don't know about the character arc, I'm not sure about the plot, and I am completely in the dark about the ending. Truthfully, I don't even know where my protagonist's motivation comes from. Is it the fame, the money, his inner demons forcing his fingers to the keyboard? I don't know. I hope it all gets resolved, otherwise the readers won't be satisfied.
On the bright side, they always said in English class that a story isn't about the destination, but the journey. No matter where my story ends up I'm blogging it here. You can celebrate my triumphs, revel in my humiliation, or simply look on in voyeuristic pleasure as I struggle to write a novel and get it into print.
Here's to success, no matter how it's defined.
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