“What inspired you to become a writer? What lead you to write that first book?”The interviewer asked smiling for the camera.
“ A Christmas wish.” I responded. “A Christmas wish unfulfilled. The story is too long to tell. We’re running out of time but the truth is love has always eluded me. When I was younger, I had a special tradition. One I started just for me. Every year at the beginning of the holiday season I would make a Christmas wish to meet my special someone. That was the only gift I asked for, the only thing I wanted. Some Christmases were spent out mingling. Others I sat in my living room in my sparkly dress, with my manicured nails and flattering hairstyle only to kick off my shoes by 8 pm and stretch out on the couch with a favorite movie. Some Christmases were spent in jeans and a sweatshirt. A couple were spent in stained pajamas with a box of fudge for company.
I had tried everything. After spending years being available. Of not being too available. Of standing up for myself. Of being open to meeting new people. Of focusing on being my best self. Of going my own way and living my best life, one that the right man would only enrich and make better. Well, I was in my thirties when I finally admitted the truth. Love was not in my future. No matter how much I chased it or didn’t chase it. No matter how supportive and encouraging I was of others when they found it. No matter how many books I read or romantic movies I watched, it did not matter. Love was not in the cards for me. Nor would it be, not for a long time at least.”
“You never found it?” The interviewer asked. “None of these stories are about you?”
“No they are not, although I’ve heard the rumors. I can assure you, the book boyfriends readers so love meeting in my holiday romances are just as fictional in real life as they are on the page.”
"Are any of them Christmas wishes never fulfilled?” She prompted.
“You don’t give up do you? One...maybe two.” I answered.
“If love has been a stranger to you why do you write these types of stories?”
I smiled brightly as I looked at the audience. “Book boyfriends are a lot of fun. They’re handsome, kind and caring. They pick up after themselves, never forgetting the simple romantic gestures that make the season special, do they?” There was a round of applause. “Seriously, I wanted to find a way to take something that had become a problem, something that was weighing my spirit down, and create something positive. A fun and relaxing way for readers to spend their time.”
“You have done that. You’ve also done a few other good things. Your Night Before Christmas coat giveaways, food pantries, toy deliveries, clothing drives, and utility bill assistance help countless families. Not to mention the books for kids.”
I thought for a moment. I hated this part. The going around, talking to people. Doing television. Whatever happened to being the writer everyone loved reading but no one had ever seen in real life? When did those days end? “I have been so fortunate with the success of the books, it feels good to pass some of that good fortune on.” I looked away from the host, shifting my gaze back to the audience, it was my signal to her that I would prefer she change the subject. Thankfully she did.
“You have been writing one holiday romance a year, each book released during the Christmas season. This is book ten. Tell us, how many more holiday romances do you have left in you? How many book boyfriends are there?”
A brief smile crosses my lips. “A few.”
“We hope we will be enjoying your Book Boyfriends Christmas Romance series for many years to come. Thank you for coming today. Ladies and Gentlemen, Jess Windstrom!”
I thanked the host and waved enthusiastically to the crowd as I exited stage left. I started fast walking the moment I got back stage. “What time is it?”
Lisa Paget, the best assistant I could ask for was at my side within seconds with a pair of dressy walking shoes in hand.
“11:45. You have a signing at a book store opening at noon and another interview at 4:30.” She answered as I took off the television appearance appropriate footwear and got comfortable. I took my bags from her hand as her phone beeped freeing her to answer and stowed the death heels inside my tote bag. Her voice faded as I continued out of the studio and into a waiting car.
“Could you give me a minute before starting out?” Lisa asked the driver. “That was the Naked Ankle.” She said, taking a seat next to me. “The Naked Ankle? The romance bookstore we’re headed to? Their heat is out. They’re working on solving the problem but they were wondering if you would be willing to start at 12:45 instead. They have a table waiting for you in the restaurant at the hotel across the street.”
“Can you push back my 4:30?”
Lisa sent a text.
“Mr. Nash said that since it was a phone interview we could reschedule for a time later tonight or early tomorrow.”
“How does tomorrow look?” I asked.
Lisa consulted the schedule. “It’s the last day of the book tour, it looks like all you have left are interviews most are scheduled in the afternoon.”
“Would nine am work?”
Lisa sends a quick text. “All set.”
“Good.” I consulted my notebook. “There is a Night Before Christmas food pantry having a book fair two blocks away.” Leaning forward, I gave the driver directions before sitting back against the seat.
“Don’t you want lunch?” Lisa asked. “You’ve been going all morning, you must be famished.”
“I do want lunch.” I said as I pulled a couple of bottled smoothies out of my tote bag and handed one to my assistant. “Do you know what I want more?” I retrieved a copy of “Stand Back!” Said The Elephant, “I’m Going To Sneeze!” by Patricia Thomas, Illustrated by Wallace Tripp from my bag. “To read a story. To a group of someones who will enjoy it.”
“Phoebe’s favorite.” Lisa said smiling.
“Yes.” I said returning her smile. “Phoebe’s favorite.”
Lisa returned to her phone and her lists as the driver pulled away from the curb. I looked out the window, watching people and cars as they moved along streets in various stages of Christmas cheer. The city was preparing for Thanksgiving along with its annual Christmas parade. The decorations in various states of installation reflected it.
“That was quite an interview you gave ma’am.” I heard the driver say.
“Thank you.”
“I watch a lot of them. I noticed that you never tell them everything. You’ve never told anyone everything have you?”
I looked at the driver. He was not looking at me in the rear view mirror. He was quiet, fully immersed in his task. I reached out for Lisa’s hand, when she looked up I whispered, “Did you hear what he just said?”
“What who said?” She asked.