Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 13

“Ms. Wildstar, how nice to see you again. I hear you’ve been on a little vacation.”

She smiles tightly and grips the edge of her seat on the stack of dusty CDs. “Not really. Those stupid boys don’t know what they’re talking about. You know they were never developed for their minds. All they were meant to do was get horribly murdered so Mr. MC would be more sympathetic to Ms. MC.”

“I suppose so.” Ms. Wildstar’s mind wasn’t all that developed either, but I didn't point that out. “So what can I do for you today?”

"Ms. MC was supposed to describe Mr. MC for us, but she couldn't make it. Something about not being able to get a sitter because she's stuck on a buried, hidden spaceship with her kids."

“Ah yes, she’s in a bit of a predicament at the moment. So are you going to take her place?”

“No, I brought someone else to do it.” She slides off the CD stack and goes to the edge of the desk where she motions to someone below. “Someone you haven’t talked to yet this month.”

I take a quick inventory of my discarded characters. They all seem to be covered. Hmmm.

A man in his late twenties with dark skin, hair and eyes climbs into the desktop. He stands protectively near Ms. Wildstar.

I wrack my brain and finally arrive at a name. “Mr. MC’s brother’s best friend, Mox?”

“So you do remember me.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s scrambling. There’s a reason you were left out there undiscovered in wads of yellowed paper. If she remembered you, she’d have brought you to live with us years ago.”

I tap my chin. “Interesting. I’d not thought about you in years. It’s been drafts.”

“Yeah, I saw some of the new stuff when we were making our way here. Much better. Rather sorry I’m not in it though.”

“I’m intrigued. What do you have to tell us about Mr. MC?”

“He was a nice young man, responsible, striving to be like his brother. But when Chesser died, the poor kid was left at the whims of Ms. MC and she ruined him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, and you’re working from old information. He truly does love Ms. MC and she him. She doesn’t pull him into her troubled world until years after she did before. He’s his own man now. Sure they’ve had some rough times, but in this new novel, he’s doing the best he can in a world were everyone seems bent on ruining the happy little life he and Ms. MC had set up for themselves.”

“Wow, that doesn’t sound near as bad.” He leaves Ms. MC’s side and sits on the CD stack. “I never liked Ms. MC before but she sounds much more sympathetic now.”

“That was my intention.”

Ms. Wildstar stomps over to his side with her arms crossed and a scowl on her young face. “You said you were going to help us. Now you’re sitting her all chitty chatty with She Who Taps The Keys. This was not part of the deal.”

I put on my benevolent smile. “Mox, it seems like you were a decorated soldier, dedicated and loyal. You had a lot of skills Chesser used while you were on missions together and when he died, you did your best to give Mr. MC some guidance.”

He sits up proudly and puffs out his chest. “That’s me.”

“You know what…” I glance at my laptop.

“No! No, no, no!” Ms. Wildstar runs toward my keyboard.

“I have the perfect place for you in this novel.” I quickly type his name.

Mox vanishes.

Ms. Wildstar stomps on my keyboard. “That wasn’t fair! You! You know...” She shakes her fist at me.

“Know what?” I smile at the utterly frustrated teen.

She bites her lip and lowers her fist. “Nothing. I have to go.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 12

Two pairs of trembling hands lightly touch my desktop. The boys-who-don’t-get-blown-up appear seconds later. “Excuse us, She Who Taps The Keys, we are looking for some of our friends who have gotten lost.”

“Haven’t seen anyone since yesterday. How’s your project going?”

They look at each other and then back at me. “What project?”

“The one where you ask me questions, of course. What did you think I meant?” Maybe I should grab them too. Nah, there are enough people wondering where the two are that I already have.

“Oh, that. Quite well I think,” says one.

“Marin and Nekar have been happy with everyone,” says the other.

“Have they now. What about Ms. Wildstar, is she happy too?”

“Haven’t seen her-”

“For a couple days,” finishes the other.

“I hope she’s not missing too.”

“No, she’s off-”

The other one jabs him in the side with his elbow. “She’s taking a break.”

“Of course. I’m sure she’s tired after arranging this project.”

“She had help.”

“Did she?”

“Um, we’re supposed to ask you a question today,” says the one who did the jabbing. “If you were behind on your word count and were going to pull and all-nighter to catch up. What would your playlist of inspirational music look like?”

The pens in the cup begin to rattle. I talk a little louder to cover the noise and put my hand over the cup, stilling the pens inside. “Seriously? Didn’t we cover this with the last question you two were up here?”

“I suppose we did. So no music then?”

“I have been inspired by certain songs, such as when I was working on the novel you two came from, but no, not when I’m actually writing. No music. In fact, even when I’m plotting while driving around town, I turn the radio off.”

“Silence. Got it,” says the one with the loose lips.

“But you’re not good at it,” mutters the other one as they creep back over the edge of the desk.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 11

I unfold the flyer I took from the pocket of the Barthromian captain and look it over. Other than a letter B next to day 18 and 22 there aren’t any clues to be found. Delilah didn’t have any pockets but even a pat down didn’t produce anything of use. “Are you two comfortable?”

Delilah and the Barthromian captain blink twice.

“Good. If you’re ready to talk I’ll gladly remove some of that uncomfortable tape.”

They blink again.

“Looks like today’s question is about collaborative writing.” I rip the tape from their mouths. “Since no one has come to ask it yet, I’ll just take this one.”

Something jabs my foot. I clamp my hand over the two characters taped side by side to my tissue box. Glancing downward, I spot Glicfip poking my sock with a half bent open paperclip. “Can I help you with something?”

“Have you seen Delilah?”

“Not since she asked her question yesterday.”

“I’m supposed to ask you one today. Mind if I skip it? I’d really like to keep searching for her. I’m starting to get worried.”

“We can hope the dust bunnies didn’t get her. That would be such a shame.”

Glicfip pales. “You don’t think… No. She’s got to be around here somewhere. I’ll keep looking.”

“Okay then. Good luck.” I wave as he sets off town the paper wad lined paths.

Once he’s out of sight, I turn back to the characters squirming and mumbling under my hand. “Now then, about this collaborative writing thing. No, I haven’t done that and I’m not into roleplaying games. However, I’d suggest you two get on it.”

I pull the tape off of their bodies and drop them in the pen-filled cup. The useless flyer goes in too. “You have until tomorrow to write me a full confession on the back of that or you’ll be playing the role of dust bunny food.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 10

With the Barthromian captain taped securely to my pen box and turned to face the black wastelands behind my desk, I patiently await my next visitor.

Delilah hoists up her low cut dress to better cover her ample cleavage and smiles. “Hello.”

“Is that the dress Ms. MC used to wear to that year end party?”

“Yeah, you cut it three drafts ago. Ms. Wildstar wanted it, but she couldn’t fill it out like I can.” She spins around.

“Indeed. I don’t think Ms. MC even did it such justice.”

“Really?”

“Totally.” I smile. “How does Glicfip like it?”

“He loves it. Oh, and thank you for giving him a new name. It’s much easier to say. And it sounds so different.”

“Like he comes from a whole different planet or something.”

“Exactly!” She grins.

“So what can I do for you today?”

“I’m supposed to ask you about manifesting your love of writing when you’re not doing Nano.”

“You mean, my other project outside of NaNoWriMo?”

Her grin hastily downgrades to a wavering smile. “Yes, those.”

“I think we both know that I write all year, well, other than the summer months. Those are often too busy and filled with interruptions to get much done, but if something really has me fired up, I’ve been known write even then. I also enjoy critiquing writing for other people when I’m in a non-writing mode, which sometimes happens between projects or when I’m on an editing/revising binge.”

My pens begin to jangle in their plastic cup set into the empty tissue box. Delilah jumps.

“What was that?” She wraps her arms around herself. “Are there dust bunnies back there? Trala says they’re horrible and mean and ugly! You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

“I’m not Glicfip, dear. I’ve killed characters. Many of them. Even ones I really like when it serves a good purpose.”

The box bounces. Then pens bounce with it, thunking up and down.

“Maybe if you had something important to tell me, I’d be more inclined to protect you.”

The girl looks around wildly. “I don’t know anything important. Really, I don’t. I should go.”

“So soon?”

She dashes for the edge of the desk, but the tight dress confines her steps. I grab her.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 9

Still yawning, I’m peacefully going about my wake up and check my email routine when someone climbs over the edge of my desk. The captain of the Barthromians straightens his uniform and paces my desktop, his heels clicking with each step. “So, who did you tell?”

“Huh?”

“Come on, you told others. You can’t hide it. We know.”

“Who knows what? Of course I talk to people.” I really need to start drinking coffee or maybe ring my desk in barbed wire until I’m ready to be sociable.

Click, click, click go the heels of his polished black boots. “You know what I’m talking about. Who. Did. You. Tell.”

I close my laptop and sit forward. “Talking slowly is only effective if you also yell. At least, that seems to be the general consensus. How about you stand still?” I grab him by the legs and pick him up. “Now, just what are you ranting about this early in the morning?”

“Reliable sources have reported that you have been spreading confidential information.” He pushes against my hand as if he actually thinks he could break free.

“Regarding what?”

“The project code-named NaNoWriMo. Ms. Wildstar said no one was to speak of it. Especially not you.”

I squeeze a little more. “Project, huh? I suppose I have been talking about NaNoWriMo, but that was kind of the point of this month—to share my writing experiences with others.”

He freezes. “Writing? You’re talking about… writing?”

“Yes, I’ve told everyone who will stand still long enough to listen about NaNoWriMo.” I bring him up close to my face. “People know to leave me alone this month because I’m stressed enough to snap heads off with all I’ve got going on in addition to NaNo.”

“Oh.” He dons a winning grin. “My mistake. So sorry. Would you mind putting me down now?”

“I don’t think so.” I grab my roll of masking tape. “I can interrogate too.”

After taping him to the tissue box that holds all my pens, I sit back. “So, just what is project NaNoWriMo?”

“We’re not supposed to talk about it. The memo said so.”

“Especially not to me?”

“Notto you.” He bangs the back of his head on the box, and lets out a growl. “Damned typos! They’ll be the death of us all.”