Inside My Head - Interactions of a Writer

Christine Interviews - Part 1

It was seven-thirty by the time Jerry started writing. The sun had just peaked over the treetops, tall pines, and leafy oaks that bordered a broad field of green grasses and dandelions, mother nature's perennial signs of summer in full bloom. The sound of chirping birds drifted through the office window on a warm morning breeze, their songs drawing attention from the of cafe sounds playing in the background, a white noise generator that most writers used to concentrate.

"Michael. It's time." Jerry said.

Whispers of white and green swirled in front of the closed office door like a minor dust storm. The brilliant light announced an arrival, the conscious emergence of a subconscious friend, a partner of many years. The fiery embers imploded into a ball of bright white light. Whoosh. The sucking sound of air rushing to fill a void echoed through the room.

"Good morning, Jerry," Michael said as he straightened out his shirt. His eyes scanned the room and a small smile framed his face. "Another interview for book two?"

"I think so." Jerry swiveled his chair towards Michael. "But before we do, did you figure out how Jennifer knew she was a character in the first book?"

Michael strolled over to the windows and scanned the concrete easement along the side of the pool. "No. It's not like she is a tulpa. She isn't running around up there." Michael circled his index finger around his temple. "I put her back in the same place I picked her up, at the end of the first book." Michael turned and shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you think she will remember the interview?" Jerry said.

Michael raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. A large overstuffed leather chair materialized in the office's corner. "Beats me. The fact she knew about the book was weird enough." Michael slid across the arm and plopped into the chair with a huff. "So, who should we talk with this morning?" He said as he ran his hands through his straight black hair.

Jerry scrunched his lips together and stared at the treetops. Jennifer was a character in a book. No more, no less. She wasn't like Michael. She wasn't a mind mate. Jennifer was words Jerry wrote as Michael created the scene she was in. So how could she know more than what was written? Could Michael have unwillingly created her?

"Earth to Jerry. Come in Jerry." Michael rotated his hands in the air like radar antennas in search of a target.

"Sorry. I just can't get Jennifer's knowing about the book out of my mind." Jerry turned back to the computer.

"I can get her again?"

"No, let move on," Jerry said, his voice trailed off.

"Earth. Jerry." Michael wiggled his fingers over his head like he was sending out radio signals.

"Right. How about Christine?" Jerry said as he shook his head. "We spent little time with her in book one."

"Smashing idea, old chap. Smashing idea." Michael smiled.

"A British accent? Really?" Jerry rolled his eyes. "Can you get her?"

Michael vanished the same way he came into the room, in an implosion of light. One moment he sat in his chair, the next he was gone. The fiery display mesmerized Jerry. The swirling embers weren't a characteristic he taught Michael. They were an emergent behavior similar to fish swarming or birds flocking. They just happened.

A moment later, the white and green embers gave way to a flash. Michael had returned to his chair, and he ran his finger through his hair.

Jerry studied the grin on his face. "Okay, I give. Where is -"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Jerry jerked at the light raps on the office door. The intrusion has unheard of. Nobody disturbed Jerry while they wrote. Jerry went as far as to place a "Please Do Not Disturb" sign on the door to ensure his privacy.

Michael waved his hand towards the door. "Well. Are you going to answer the door? You know I can't open those things."

Jerry stood and walked over to the old painted wood guardian that had seen better days. "I guess so." He reached down, turned the knob, and swung the door wide open.

Christine Parker tilted her head and stared into Jerry's eyes. She was an amazing-looking thirty-two years old woman. She wore a pink and black jacket over a tight black top tucked into her black leggings. Jerry looked back over his shoulder and said, "A bit dramatic."

Jerry extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Jerry and this is Michael." He said as Michael walked up from behind.

"It is a pleasure to meet you both," Christine said, as she shook Jerry's hand and then Michael's.

Michael stepped back and waved his fingers. A chair materialized on the side of the room, just opposite their chairs.

"Amazing," Christine said, as her eyes widened.

"Please, have a seat." Jerry pointed to the chair as Michael returned to his chair. "Can we get you anything? Water. Tea."

"No. I am good. Thank you."

"We met before. Well, not you and me. You met John, a character in my first book." Jerry said as he tilted his head to the side. "Do you remember?"

Christine looked over to Michael and then back to Jerry. "Of course I remember," She said with a small smile. "John and I met at Starbucks. He got robbed, and I helped him."

"That's right," Jerry said.

"And you," Christine turned back to Michael, "I have heard all about from John. He thinks of you with great regard."

"John is a... great guy," Michael said.

John wasn't always a great guy to Michael. He wasn't even kind to Michael in the beginning. But they worked out their differences in book one. Michael learned about the cost of freedom. John realized that there was more to life than just himself. They were a team now and Michael could work with that.

Christine turned back to Jerry and pulled out an iPad from her backpack. "Do you mind if I take notes?"

Jerry glanced at Michael and then back to Christine. "Not at all," Jerry said as he grabbed his own iPad.

"Where would you like to start?" Christine said.

Jerry scanned through a few questions. "How about the beginning? Tell us a bit about yourself."

Christine's eyes glanced over around the room. "I am in the third year of my psychology master's at the University of West Chester," Christine said as she lifted her pen. "I love the human mind. Not the physical parts like white and gray matter stuff." She twirled the pen around her fingers like gravity did not exist. "I like the way the mind thinks. How it functions."

John nodded. "Well, we have something in common already."

"I'm into the subconscious and unconscious mind." She tapped the pencil on her temple. "Those places that people can not access." Her eyes fixed on Jerry's.

Harrumph. "I live in Jerry's subconscious mind," Michael said with his fist in front of his mouth. "The rent is high, but the facilities are great." He pointed to Jerry and said, "I am one of his -"

"I have a tulpa as well." She turned to Michael. "Her name is Marie, and she knows a lot about you."

Michael's face flushed and his skin warmed. He pulled his head back as blinked several times. "Um," he stuttered.