My topic for the mini-conference is writing compelling stories. Thought I’d take this chance to see if I practice what I plan to preach. So be honest now…would you read on?
WRITERS’ QUARREL © Kristen Heitzmann
Devin Bressard scarcely blinked when Grace tossed her sweet tea in his face.
His eyes went flat as hammered steel, his tone even flatter. “Feel better?”
“Waste of a good sweet tea.”
“Sorry for your loss.” He took a napkin from the arm of a server instantly beside him.
He wasn’t sorry for anything. She snatched her purse and stood. “It’s a perfect end to this fiasco.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to stand.” His eyes flicked to the ice cubes nestled in his lap like dice.
“I wouldn’t expect it of you anyway.” She stalked past the gaping Manhattan diners. Throwing a drink at Devin Bressard had not been on her things-to-do-before-thirty list, but she inserted it and dragged a bold, red line through.
His failure to appreciate her prose or connect with her characters was one thing. But to scorn the tragic twist in the plot? To say it gave him the best laugh of his week, the bellyache kind he hadn’t experienced since childhood? What ever happened to professional courtesy?
She swallowed the lump that had no business in her throat. Readers anticipated the twists that plunged her characters into predicaments he found amusing. She nodded to the maître ‘d, accepted her coat from the attendant, and slid a tip into his palm.
He caught her hand. “Can I buy you a drink, Ms. Evangeline?”
“Thank you no. I just disposed of my last one.”
Her novels were humorous—in the repartee—poignant and triumphant. Emails, tweets, and blogs proved the stories touched people. Her interviews and appearances were overwhelmingly positive. Why should she care what one man thought?