It is a sensation one does not soon forget, and it is also annoying as Hell.
“Did you need something?” I asked without looking up from my laptop.
I was out on the porch, working on the pilot for the TV show about my college years. He was inside The House on the Hill, on the other side of the screen door, looking out at me like some sort of weirdo.
“Just checking if you needed anything,” Lucifer replied. “Perhaps an ice cold Snapple might get the creative juices flowing.”
“Already got one,” I told him and held up my bottle of Snapple as proof.
Sure, I felt bad. Sunday was the day The Prince of Darkness visited every week, but I never know when inspiration is going to hit.
I’ve been plotting out this pilot for weeks, and just waiting for the right moment to sit down and churn out the pages. Today just happened to be that day, and I’d been out on the porch for hours.
The ideas were just flowing, and I didn’t have time to sit on the couch and shoot the shit with my Sunday guest.
“How is the writing going?” Satan asked in a tone that clearly announced he was desperate for attention and human contact.
“Why don’t you come out here for a second and chat?” I offered because even though I don’t like to be disturbed when I’m writing, I’m not completely heartless.
As always, he was well dressed in an impeccably tailored suit.
“You really have been busy,” Lucifer observed.
“Thirteen pages so far,” I updated him. “But you know my process. I write a little, then go back and edit. I’ve rewritten the opening scene three times.”
The Prince of Darkness flashed a charming smile, delighted to be let in on the creative process. “So you’re happy with what you’ve written?”
He pulled up a chair next to mine, and took a long sip of the Snapple that he had originally offered me.
It was my turn to smile. “Yes, I am. I mean, I’ve had this pilot playing in my head on an endless loop for months. Slowly, I’ve tinkered with it. Adding scenes. Tweaking characters. Fiddling with the order of events. I always want it to be perfect before I ever put the first word on the page.”
“I definitely admire your process,” Satan admitted. “You really allow the story to percolate before you even dream of putting it on paper.”
“And even with it so well thought out, things change the moment I start writing,” I confessed. “I knew how my character was going to meet Dave’s, but I had no idea the way the scene was going to end until I was writing it. I just let the words guide me.”
“So have you told Dave that his character has been brought to life?” The Devil inquired.
“Oh, he knows,” I answered with a chuckle. “He had some questions that I was willing to answer about his character, and others that I would not. We also had a nice chat about two characters that are partially based on our friends, but also figments of my imagination. It was a big help to talk them out a little and get a better grasp of who they are within the story.”
“How about Fitz?” Lucifer queried. “Have you let him loose on the page yet?”
“Not yet,” I answered with a silly smile on my face. “The world of my pilot is chaotic enough as it is at this point. Why make it crazier by unleashing Fitz?”
We both had a good laugh at my old friend’s expense.
I glanced down at my laptop’s screen. The pilot was beckoning me.
“I’ve bothered you enough,” The Prince of Darkness acknowledged. “Get back to work before the creative juices dry up, and you blame me for your writer’s block.”
“Hell is full of writers, who sold their souls for a little success,” Satan informed me. “I know how to deal with your kind.”
He laughed and vanished into the house.
Finally, I had some peace and quiet. Time to play with my characters again, and to rewrite history to my liking…