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A Writer’s companion

himalayan salt lamp near laptop on wooden table

The clock was showing 3AM when my fingers were moving like a tap dancer on the keyboard. I was locked away in my little study room, which was basically a desk under the stairs. This worked well for me, as this way I didn’t disturb my wife at this ungodly hour. We have already had too many fights lately. I didn’t want to do anything that might add fuel to the fire.

Besides, this cosy corner worked well for me. I had no disturbances and my creativity flowed without any distractions.

Sometimes staying focused on my current writing piece was the biggest struggle. I have been working on this novel for the past three years. In those three years, I have written hundreds of blog posts for my personal blog and even more for my job. But this particular novel has a storyline that keeps getting more and more complicated no matter how hard I try. There is always something or the other that eludes me.

My coffee cup was empty. I thought about making another cup but then decided against it. I already had too much coffee. The story was not moving forward. My detective was just not able to find the next clue that would lead him to the murderer. I needed my detective to get a piece of evidence, but there was no way for him to get that in a way that didn’t break the storyline.

My head was feeling heavy. Maybe it was time to call it a night. That last cup of coffee was not going to keep me up much longer. Maybe my detective can go to a coffee shop and then find the witness there, and that might lead him to the evidence. It’s too late to write the entire chapter now. I should just make a note about the coffee shop, though. If it still seems like a good idea in the morning, then I will expand and write the chapter.

The next day I had to take my daughter to the hospital and I couldn’t get back to my writing for almost a week after that. When I finally opened my document, I saw that my note about the coffee shop was altered. Instead of a coffee shop, the detective was supposed to go to someplace that sells ‘Uza’. I didn’t write this. I didn’t even know what ‘Uza’ was.

That was not the only change in my story. The entire chapter where my detective had to obtain the evidence was done. And it was done perfectly. It appeared like something I would write, but I didn’t write it.

My laptop was locked at home while I was at the hospital. No one else was at the home. No one had access to my laptop. Yet the chapter was complete. I checked the notes section and found a new note saying that my detective was now locked in a warehouse with no way out. The next move was to help him escape.

I thought about the new problem and I had a brilliant idea of how to get my detective out of that warehouse and back on his way to uncovering the villain’s plot.

I must have had the blessings of all my muses. I wrote for 4 hours straight and when I was done I had finished not just one but two chapters. The story was moving really well.

I was still thinking about the changes in the story which I didn’t make. So I left a note on the document thanking whoever changed my story. It felt silly writing that note. It was almost like communicating with someone through my draft document.

Well, I was not holding my breath for a reply. So when I next opened my document and saw the updated note praising me for the last two chapters, I was shocked, to say the least.

I think I have imagined so many things to write my stories that nothing frazzles me much anymore. My story had another new chapter, and it seems like my companion not only had my writing style, they had my flaws too. I could see the similar typos I usually make.

The notes section became our personal communication board, and we kept taking turns writing the story. It was moving much faster this way. Two writers working on a single story with perfect tandem was not something I have ever heard before. I was finally enjoying writing this book.

Unfortunately, with two writers working like maniacs, the first draft was ready before I was ready to part with my anonymous companion.

As soon as the first draft was done, my companion disappeared just as randomly as they appeared. I was left alone to deal with the editing. No more notes. No more updates. Now it was all up to me.

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