Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 6

“Almighty She Who Taps the Keys, we are reporting for duty.” Twenty-six extremely pale men in dirt-colored uniforms snap to attention on the desktop.

I have to remember to give Ms. Wildstar credit for recruiting even the Barthromians in her efforts to delay her next visit. Or maybe she’s up to something. “What’s Ms. Wildstar up to these days?”

“Sorry ma’am, we weren’t written to be spies.”

“Right. What were you written for again? Oh yes, to be bad guys. So be bad and do something you weren’t written for. Come on, break the mold.”

All twenty-six of them stare at the desktop. The leader quietly says, “We don’t know how.”

“You’re worthless. All of you. Not that it should be a surprise. You’re here.” I sigh. “Fine, what’s your question?”

“What do you find most stressful about writing 50,000 words in thirty days?”

“Getting my work done when I’d rather be writing. Too often, writing wins. Which means work piles up and then I’m running around swearing at everything until I’m caught up again.”

“It’s all about time management, ma’am.”

“Yes, well, when you can find the time to be bad, you get back to me on your time management advice. Until then, you’re dismissed.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 5

Two bare-chested, seventeenish looking boys peek over the desktop. “Excuse us, are we in the right place?”

“This is different. Can’t say as I’ve seen the two of you up here before. You boys-who-don’t-get-blown-up tend to stick to the corners of the room. Ms. Wildstar is really making sure you all get a turn, isn’t she?”

They nod nervously and stand at the very edge of the desk.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to blow you up again just for asking a question. Out with it.”

“What are two-” starts one boy

“Songs from your playlist that-” says the other

“You feel are connected with your novel-”

“And why?”

“Wow, you guys are a regular little interviewing duo, aren’t you? That’s really annoying. Maybe I should blow you up again.”

One backs up half a step and teeters on the edge. The other catches him, pulling him back to safety.”

“I’m kidding. Maybe.” I shuffle through the items on my desktop. “Where is that music device… Behind the Scorpius bobblehead? He says yes, but he always says yes. No. Behind this awesomely foiled sun and moon birthday card from six years ago? No. Behind my repurposed empty tissue box that holds pens and pencils? No. Oooh that’s right. I don’t have one. I write in silence. I love silence. How the heck am I supposed to hear you guys yammering in my head if I have music playing?”

The boys yelp and fling themselves over the edge.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 4

Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC sits on the edge of my desktop, panting. “That’s a long climb up.”

“Been awhile since you’ve been up here. You should spend less time ogling Delilah and more time exercising.”

“I exercise with Delilah all the time.” He winks.

“And she weighs all of, what, a hundred pounds after downing a sheet cake? You might want to try something with a little more resistance now and then. And no, I’m not talking about broadening your sexual exploits.”

“Oh come on, look at me, I’m ripped. I don’t need weights.”

“That’s because I wrote you that way. Keep dining on fantasy ‘food’ and I’ll have to write you some bigger clothes. Don’t you have a question you’re supposed to ask me?”

Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC pulls out a paper from his pocket. “Yeah, why do I have this hideous name when the other characters you’ve pulled out of here for their names have vanished?”

“Because I’m She Who Taps the Keys, that’s why.”

He crosses his arms and taps his foot. “Oh look, I’m He Who Taps His Foot.”

“Fine. Because I recycled other aspects of their characters along with their names, but I haven’t had a need for a playboy fighter pilot. You’re stuck here in character purgatory, buddy.”

“Then I demand a new name before I ask my all important question.”

“Uhh. How about Glcfp. That encompasses enough to help me remember who you are without being such a mouthful.”

“Seriously? Glcfp? How do you even pronounce that?”

I grab my sharpie and fill out a new nametag. After slapping it on his chest I lean back and look him over. “Yep. That works. You are hereby known as, Glicfip.”

“You realize that’s still horrible, right?”

“Take it or leave it, Glicfip. Ask your question already.”

“What is the genre of your novel and why did you choose it?”

“I chose it because it’s a sequel and I kinda need it to be the same genre. Which is sci-fi by the way.”

“Fair enough. Can I be excused before I end up with an even stupider name?”

I wave my sharpie marker at him. “Probably a good idea.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 3

Nekar stands at one end of my desk, his jaw tight and his narrowed eyes gleaming. “You.”

Ms. MC stands at the other end of my desk looking equally as perturbed. “You.” She glares at me. “When you invited me out here, I didn’t think it was to help you dispose of these cast offs. I mean, that’s not a problem, but I thought you said something about an interview.”

“I did. Nekar, cut the western showdown bit and do what you came up here to do.”

“You can’t honestly expect to interview her.” He throws down Stubbornly and Adamantly on the desktop.

“Hey, it was supposed to be Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC’s turn, but you switched days. Not my problem. Get on with it.” I shoo him toward Ms. MC.

They eye each other with distaste.

“I could come back another day,” Ms. MC says.

“No, just get on with it, Nekar.”

He says through clenched teeth, “Tell the people who you are.”

“I’m Ms. MC. Idiot. Why don’t you tell them who I am?”

“I know who you’re not anymore. We’ve got your eyes, nails and body armor floating around here. How the hell did you even fit in that? I suppose prancing around in a skin-tight suit while doing the Council’s dirty work was a little too sexy for you?”

“I don’t prance and I don’t do sexy.”

“But Mr. MC finds you attractive anyway. How nice for you. I suppose he’s into you for what’s on the inside.” He throws a card at Ms. MC.

She peers at it. “Sarcastically? As if we hadn’t picked up on that? This is why you didn’t make the cut. You’re redundant.” She looks to me. “Are you sure I can’t kill him? I have a pulse pistol right here. It would only take a second.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it would be to clean Nekar bits out of my keyboard? No thanks. We better wrap this up before someone gets hurt. Nekar, thank Ms. MC.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” He hurls an armload of adverbs at Ms. MC and jumps off the edge of the desktop.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 2

“Trala? Hey, so, uhhh, what brings you up here?” I look at once pretty woman now covered in dust bunny remains and cobwebs. Her cherished blue dress is tattered. Scratches cover her legs and arms.

“Didn’t think I was still around did you? Thought the dust bunnies at me, I bet. You said they were cute and fuzzy! Lies! They’re vile little creatures. And their teeth!”

“They are? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize they’d gone wild.”

“Yeah, right. Ms. Wildstar says otherwise.”

“Did she send you up here? I wondered where she’d gotten off to.”

Trala wipes some of the cobwebs from her hair and flips her long dark locks over her shoulders. “She gave me this flyer and told me to ask you a question about some Nana na mo thing.

“It’s NaNoWriMo, but nevermind, wouldn’t want you to sprain something. What’s today’s question?”

She squints at the flyer. “What is the title of your story?”

“I have no idea.”

“That’s an odd title.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Next I’m supposed to ask why you choose that title.”

“Because I don’t know what the book is called yet!” I take a deep breath and let it out. “Hey Trala, have you ever heard the term TSTL?”

“No. Why?”

“You should go look it up. I think you’d find it enlightening.”