Writing's Second Taste

Chapter Fourteen: Home

Sam was probably in school right now, dad was at work, so this was literally going to be a one-on-one with my mother. Who, as my uncle says, was a complete demon when she's mad but mostly because she's usually a sweetheart if her temper was completely intact.

And let's just say that when her face popped up on my screen, I only managed to smile at her, praying that she wasn't angry even if that meant that we were lying to the both us. There was no way that she was like that.

"Darling, we may be in different time zones but that doesn't mean you forget about us," she sighed, her tone slow and steady which is a lot scarier if you think about it, "And I heard from Levi that you've been working on something."

"Yeah, I'm a little slow though," I admitted, taking off my shoes so I could prop my feet on the bed, "I don't even have a title yet."

"No pressure Sienna but Levi's book is already in editing and even Andy's is ready for release," she reminded as if I didn't know already, "Your publisher was elated when you started selling and the bloggers started fawning about an author that was close to their own age but that doesn't keep you secured forever."

I bit my lip because she didn't have to point it out, I was already disappointed in myself. Does it ever enter her mind that her daughter was trying her darn hardest? Her small mentions of a book escalated to a demand and it stressed me out greater than it should have.

And even though I wanted to get irritated at her, I couldn't because even if she was my mother, she still has a job to do. She's just extremely considerate of me because I was her daughter, but if any other author under her supervision was placed in my position, she would have dropped them in an instant.

I wanted to force myself to write a new story but I couldn't. I then went here and somehow, I was able to start one.

One that doesn't involve a whole whirlwind plot wherein two people will just walk away at the end. Then again, maybe it will, I have no idea yet because this was still a work in progress.

"Send me the working draft," she told me and I gawked at her request. No, her voice wasn't making a request, it was full on telling me to do it without questions. Yes, as my agent she had every right to see it, but as my mom, do I really want her to read it?

The answer was no.

"Mom, I can't do that, I haven't finished it yet," I tried to argue.

But of course, she wasn't going to budge, "So that I could stop you if that story isn't worth finishing."

Welcome to the writing industry – if agents doesn't think it will sell, it will be trashed in an instant.

"Uncle Levi has been monitoring it so you can be assured it's going well," I once again attempted to find my way around this.

"Sienna Elizabeth Clark, you're hiding something," she concluded and she wasn't wrong there, plus she used my full name. Gosh, I hated it when she did that, "What is it?"

It wasn't that I didn't want to tell her, it was just embarrassing because I know my mother. Although I haven't placed character names, she will find out in an instant that the narrator was me and clearly, the timeline of happenings was a dead giveaway.

Then again, what was I really ashamed of?

I wasn't ashamed but I was afraid she will find out something I was just starting to realize.

"Nothing, can you please let it go just for this one time?" I gazed downwards, my hair covering my face from her view.

Thankfully, she learned to let it go. Maybe after all, her daughter was suddenly thrown into a new environment and she was still trying her hardest to survive.