Main Character: Sorry, not going to do it.
Writer: What do you mean you’re not going to do it?
MC: I think that statement is abundantly clear. I’m not going to climb out the window and leap from the building.
Writer: But you’re being chased. It’s the only option. Besides, it’s too late. I already wrote that scene. You leap off the building.
MC: Yeah, nope.
Writer: Don’t overthink it. You’re going to land on a scaffolding. You’ll be fine. A little banged up, maybe, but you’ll survive. Didn’t you notice my clever foreshadowing? The mention of all the construction going on?
MC: Still nope.
Writer: Look, I’m the writer. You have to do what I say.
MC: That may be technically true. But I’m still not doing it.
Writer: I am the all-powerful author. You must do as I…
MC: Ego trip much? Fine, go ahead then. Make me jump. I’ll miss the scaffolding and plummet to my death.
Writer: You can’t do that…
MC: If enough people roll their eyes at your little contrivance, I can.
Writer: Wait. What do you mean my “little contrivance?”
MC: You put a construction scaffolding just outside the window of the sixth floor. What exactly are they constructing here anyway?
Writer: I don’t know. Maybe they’re painting the building.
MC: They’re painting a building in the middle of a thunderstorm?
Writer: Thunderstorm?
MC: You invoked a storm two pages ago. To heighten the tension or something.
Writer: Oh, right. Maybe it’s of those window-cleaning scaffolding things, then. Recently abandoned because of the storm.
MC: That they just happened to leave hanging one floor below the one where I’m trapped?
Writer: That’s how it works in Hollywood. Just jump already.
MC: Hollywood? You’re nowhere near Hollywood. You’re sitting in a coffee shop in Colorado, alternately checking the sales numbers for your previously-published books [zero] and coaxing the dregs of your once-hot white mocha from the bottom of the mug. [Pause.] Aren’t you curious about why I don’t want to jump?
Writer: No. But you’re going to tell me now, aren’t you.
MC: Ask me.
Writer: Fine. Why don’t you want to jump?
MC: Because I’m afraid of heights.
Writer: You’re afraid of heights?
MC: Back in chapter two? The flashback where I wouldn’t even get out of the car when my family visited the Grand Canyon?
Writer: That? You were just a kid then.
MC: Right. Then what about the comment I made to Love Interest in chapter nine? The one where she invites me to join her on a tour of the Sears Tower and I tell her about the time I wouldn’t even get out of the car when my family visited the Grand Canyon?
Writer: Wait, I repeated that story?
MC: You did.
Writer: I can edit that. Sidebar: it’s not called the Sears Tower anymore.
MC: No one calls it the Wills Tower.
Writer: Fair.
MC: Speaking of which, it would be really helpful if you gave my love interest an actual name. “Kiss me, Love Interest” just doesn’t do it for me.
Writer: I haven’t decided what name I want to use.
MC: Seriously? Just use the name of one that got away in your real life. Like you always do.
Writer: I don’t always…fine. Call her…Becca. [Sigh.]
MC: Thank you. By the way, I heard that sigh. Now get me out of here without jumping.
Writer: How am I supposed to do that?
MC: You’re the all-powerful author. Figure it out.
[Long, thoughtful pause.]
Writer: Got it.
MC: Great. What’s the plan? Do I hide in the closet? Throw something at Unnamed Bad Guy #1 then run past him and race down the stairs?
Writer: Nope. Something much better.
MC: Tell me.
Writer: You go to the window, open it…
MC: Okay.
Writer: You look down, feel dizzy…
MC: That tracks.
Writer: Then, when you start to back away from the window, Unnamed Bad Guy #1 races in and…
MC: Yes?
Writer: …pushes you out of the window.
MC: Wait…Aaaaaarrrgggh…
[Finishes typing.]
Writer: Good thing I put that scaffolding there.
MC: [Groans] I hate you.
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