Margaritas, Beaches, and Bikinis

Chapter One
A meeting with my Editor

I took a deep breath as I peered across the wooden desk. Sitting in front of me was a woman who seemed to be in her late thirties. Her long brunette hair was tied back in a tight bun and she was dressed in a charcoal gray skirt suit. Her dark green eyes reminded me of the eyes of a Russian Blue.

“James.” She said, taking a deep breath. “I'm doing my best to keep the wolf's out of your chicken house. But if I'm honest the hens are not laying any eggs. And I'm starting to wonder if the efforts are worth it. Or if I should just let the wolf into the chicken house so he can massacre the chickens and I can start over.”

I released my deep breath. I felt like I should say something. But I once again felt at a loss for words. Instead I just nodded my head in understanding. If I was honest with myself. I might have allowed the wolf into the chicken house the moment it appeared.

“James.” My Editor said as she snapped her fingers in front of me. “James, are you even listening to me? God, at this point I think next time the wolf's start to surround the wolf chicken house. Instead of sending out the guard dogs and going to fetch my shotgun. I might instead take a deep breath, close the blinds and put on some soft music to tune out the sounds of the wolf, tearing the chickens apart.”

“... I think that would be a mercy at this point.” I said as I took a deep breath.

“It would be a tragic loss. You still owe us an Emily Christmas And you still owe us a few more Emily stories. Plus, I worked hard to get you promoted from fifteen cents a words to twenty cents a words. So you owe me.” She said with a wicked smile.

I sighed.

“I'm sorry, writer's block has just been kicking my ass.” I said, taking a deep breath. “The Muses have left because I fear for a warmer, more tropical climate. That they got tired of me doing nothing but watching anime, and reading internet stories.” I was tempted to tell her what kind of stories I'd been reading.

“I will tell you what you need. You need a change in climate.” My Editor said, smiling sweetly as she peered at me. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”

I leaned back in my chair and peered up into hammer space. Honesty, I think the last true vacation I had was right before my mom and dad divorced when I was fourteen. Dad had taken mom and I to Gulf Shores and we'd spent a week at an old condo that I swear was haunted by some kind of ghost or maybe it was a poltergeist.

“I guess it's been seven years.” I said trying my best to remember how I'd spent that week. The only thing that came to mind was spending hours on end in a small fishing boat with my dad who only wanted to drink beer and talk about all the women he'd slept with. I don't remember catching any fish.

“Perfect.”

I blinked.

“I'll send you down to the gulf coast. Rent you a condo right on the beach. I'm thinking maybe six weeks. Plenty of time for you to find your muse and come back prepared to knock out those Emily stories. Starting with the promised Christmas Story.”

I nodded my head.

“Okay, now I'm going to ask a personal question. Who is going on this trip? Is it going to the gloomy, brooding, and withdrawn James Coleman. Or is your nom de plum Rebecca Anna Coleman going on the trip. I need to know because I need to know what name to make the reservation under.” My Editor said smiling.

I blinked and went silent. I felt my cheeks flush a deep red.

“I mean, let me be honest with you. I've noticed for a while that you've been changing. Like when you started writing the Emily series, I noticed that you started to act differently. You started to act like a teenage girl who was going through puberty.” My Editor stood up and smiled as she started to circle around. She then stood there and peered down at me.

“Trust me, I've have two teenage girls. And your random mood swings when you were writing 'Emily Plays Dotty' was just like the random mood swings that teenage girls often get. Including the little temper tantrum you threw when I suggested that you volunteer to play 'Dotty' yourself when we were writing that story.”

I felt my cheeks blush.

“I think Rebecca would like to go on this trip.” I said looking down at the hardwood floor of the office.

“Okay!” She said, clapping her hands together. “Now, I'm going to need you to send me some work, thankfully with the internet you can still get some work done from that lovely beach front condo. But I think you're going to enjoy these assignments.”

“Okay..”

“First off. I need you to write a review on this famous oyster house 'The Original Oyster House' the locals out of Mobile, Alabama swear about it. I want a thousand words okay? I want a good solid review okay? I'll pay you fifteen cents for each word and sixteen cents for each word over a thousand. Okay up next, we have the famous battleship 'USS Alabama' it is supposed to haunted. So haunted that 'Ghost Team' even spent a night snooping around. You will spend the night on that ship. For this I want two thousand words at least fifteen cents a word.” My Editor said, smiling sweetly.

“Okay..” I said blushing. “And all this would be done as 'Rebecca' right?”

“Correct.” My Editor said smiling.

“Last assignment. I want you to have fun. To find your center again. And when you come back, I want to introduce the highly talented, highly well read, highly creative Rebecca Anna Coleman to the office.” My Editor said as she patted me on the cheek.
And that was that.