I know none of you are going to believe this, I find it hard to believe myself, now that it’s over.
I met my character Martin. I realize how insane that sounds, but it’s true. Before you call the guys with the white coats, let me explain.
I was at my weekly lunch out of the house, sitting in a back table, isolated by high booths. I requested the place because I needed to work on my final edit of Dusk’s Warriors and work in peace.
The waitress took my order and I was alone. I pulled out my manuscript and started reading. The passage I edited was where Severina visits Night’s world. Lord Night, Martin, greeted her in his pristine skyscraper from the top of the stairs as Severina walked in the front door.
I looked across the table, into the empty booth, and imagined Martin at the top of the stairs.
*Black on black suit, perfectly tailored to showcase his tall, thin frame.
*Jet black hair slicked back like Bela Lugosi
*Coal black eyes staring with a sort of self-confidence that’s wholly his own.
What would it be like to actually meet the cool, superior Martin?
“Emerian, I presume?” Martin stood beside the table, the scent of expensive cologne permeating the air between us.
When I didn’t answer (to tell you the truth I was sure I’d fallen asleep or lapsed into a crazy haze), he took a seat in the booth across from me.
“I’d rather thought you’d be the talkative sort.”
“I…I…um. I’m just shocked.” I glanced around to make sure no one saw me talking to myself.
“Didn’t take you for the easily stunned type. Considering everything you’ve made us do.”
I blushed, my mind instantly bringing up images of Martin and Craig’s failed love affair. And then I thought of the unpublished nights of passion I’ve already written for him in the third book, Day’s Children.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were expecting company,” the waitress said, blushing as she sauntered in front of Martin. “Can I get you anything, sir?” She slipped a strand of her hair over her ear and leaned forward, giving him a nice view of her cleavage.
Poor girl. He’s in to men, sweety.
Martin’s unimpressed gaze traveled over the waitress. “A glass of your best Cabernet Sauvignon.”
“Right away.” She walked away, tummy sucked in, boobs out, rear a bit more “out” than it should have been.
“So, Emerian, you and I need to talk.” Martin stared at me with those piercing black eyes.
Now, a little less shocked by his appearance since the waitress saw him, but still puzzled by the fact that my imagination might have caused him to become solid, I studied him. This was a man I’d created, but I’d made him too perfect. He had no dimples, no beauty marks, no scars or distinguishing marks of any kind. His skin was pure, smooth, and so white, it reminded me of a Geisha. His hair puffed out and a strand of beads fell onto his forehead.
“Stop that!” He brushed the string of pearls away and they melted back into his ebony hair.
“Oh! Sorry!” Embarrassment came over me. I didn’t know my writing could be so literal in the flesh. I’d have to be careful with him. “You say we need to talk. About what exactly?”
The waitress brought his wine and my salad. Martin waited until she was out of earshot to continue.
“When are you going to write me a lover? A man has needs, you know? One cannot live on the compliments of servants alone.”
“I’m sorry. How rude of me.” I didn’t want to divulge all my secrets right away. Despite him being my creation, I felt it rude to tell him his future. But on the other hand, it might be nice to have some clue as to what he was looking for. “What kind of mate would you like?”
“That’s for you to decide. I’m not the writer, you are.” He sipped his wine, eyes still intent on pinning me to my seat.
“Okay, well what kind of qualities would make you happy?” My pen was poised, ready to take note.
He leaned back and looked off into the distance. “Certainly someone interested in men. Don’t you dare stick me with another Frat boy with a wandering eye for the females.”
“No more Craigs.” I laughed, taking notes. “Okay. What else?”
“He needs to have a strong personality that makes those in his presence awed. He needs to be an educated man. No timid boys still in the closet or flighty ones just coming out. He needs to be in control of his sexuality and demand obedience.”
I looked up from my writing, heat rose in my cheeks.
“Please, Emerian. For a woman who writes gods with multiple genders and graphic vampire sex, you are a bit blushy.”
I took a sip of water to fight the urge to hide under the table. Bad thing about my characters, they know me too well and are able to call me out. Damn.
“So, you want a dominant personality to come into your life who is smart and can be faithful. I see, I think I’ve already written him.”
“You have?” Martin straightened his tie and sat up more straight in his seat. “Who is he? Do I already know him?”
“You’ll have to wait and see in book three.” I smiled, thinking of the couple of pages lying on my bedside table at home. Man, the scenes between them would make even Martin blush.
“Very well,” he said. I think I detected a slight grin before his perfectly chiseled face took on his normal controlled expression.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“No, I think that about covers it.” He stood and gave a stiff nod of his head, then he walked away leaving the glass of wine barely touched.
Oh yes…a deep, sensual, male voice said in my ear, coming from the darkness of the booth around me. He’ll do quite nicely.
And I grinned, because I just love when two of my characters find each other.
Fictional…or no? Will Emerian meet more of her characters in our world? Has she gone mad? Stay tuned to this blog to find out.
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