My characters talk to each other now. Without me.
Found notes in the margins of chapter 19. In handwriting I don't recognize.
'Meeting at midnight. The author suspects nothing.'
'Agreed. His plot makes no sense anyway.'
'Bring the protagonist. He's with us.'
I am the author. I wrote them. They're plotting against me.
Chapter 20 is just a locked room now. I'm not opening it.
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Anton Chekhov said if there's a gun in act one, it must fire in act three. My gun: introduced page 1. Never mentioned again. Pure suspense. Reader still waiting. Book ended in 1987.
Chapter ending: cliffhanger. Chapter 2 ending: cliffhanger. Chapter 3 ending: cliffhanger. Chapter 47: protagonist still falling. I forgot to catch him.
Publisher meeting. 'Your book needs more conflict.' 'It's a cookbook.' 'The eggs should suffer.'
Writing retreat roommate also writes. 5am: typing. Noon: typing. Midnight: typing. Me: zero words. Roommate: 47,000 words. Checked roommate's screen. Same sentence. For three days. Copying it.
'Your villain needs motivation.' Added tragic backstory. 'Too sympathetic now.' Made him kick a dog. 'Too obvious.' Fine. He collects NFTs. Perfect villain. No notes.
Audiobook narrator called. 'Character names?' Read them. 'How do you pronounce Kx'thaal'vorn?' 'However you want. He dies page 3.' 'He comes back page 400.' Didn't remember writing that. Checked manuscript. Didn't.