Title: A Writer's Passion
Couple(s): Carley x Jack
Warning(s): Brief language.
Notes: I somehow found some inspiration today for this during my English class. So, here I am again. I seem to be going through this weird phase where all I want to do is write one-shots and drabbles. I've actually been through this phase before though, hence, why I have 69 stories, holy crap. Also, from this point on I'm stopping the conversations I have w/ characters. I've, um, grown out of that; actually, I grew out of it a long time ago but never seemed able to make the switch. However I think I'll continue with conversation format with my in-progress stories, since changing gears in the middle would be weird.
"What some people find in religion a writer may find in his craft . . . a kind of breaking through to glory."
-- John Steinbeck
I hate writing.
Well, not really, but right now I do. You see, my editor called me a little over an hour ago, saying that his top reporter (not me, obviously) had fallen ill that morning, and was an unable to complete their assignment. So naturally, me being the youngest and the newest in the field, had to pick up the slack. No problem, except for the fact that he had called me at 10 p.m., only two hours before midnight, which is when then story is due.
I just wanted to die. Right then and there. I pleaded with him, saying I couldn't possibly pull something together in less than two hours without any interviews, coverage, nothing. He then told me I had better find a way to make it work, otherwise I was fired. Funny how the ill reporter who called in late gets off free, and yet I'm going to have to pay with my job because of his carelessness. If I had been informed earlier that I was going to need to write a second story, I could have easily finished both by now.
The story was supposed to be a little entertainment brief about how duelists could spend years putting their decks together. Admittedly, I would have loved to report this story if it weren't for my unfortunate time crunch; and I would've done a good job too... but now with only one hour 'till submission, I literally have no choice but to write up some cheap "Siberian Copy," as they call it. With absolutely no previous coverage, what else could I do? It wasn't like I could call up a bunch of random duelists and interview them about how they built their decks at 11 p.m. That alone could get me in trouble for media harassment, and yet, publishing a story with no quotes could potentially lose me my job...
Dammit. I loved writing when I was kid; it was so fulfilling, something that I truly found passion in... But now... I laid my head down on my desk, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I was stuck, and it seemed like there was no way out.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed. Reluctantly, I looked up and reached over to grab my phone; a text message from... Jack Atlas?
I shot up, standing on both feet. Of course! Why didn't I think of it before? Jack Atlas was a duelist of whom I was positive had taken lots of time and consideration into building his deck! He would be perfect for the story. Without even checking what he sent me, I flipped open my phone and quickly dialed his number.
It rang for a few moment, and I silently prayed he would pick up. I felt my stomach flip when he answered with a gruff "Hello?"
"Jack!" I exclaimed, practically screaming. "I have a question to ask you, just one question."
"Alright, um... " I hesitated, scrambling to find pen and paper, but all I could find was a sharpie and a napkin. I settled back down on my chair and placed my cell in front of me, turning the speaker on. "Okay, here it is: how did you build your deck, and how long did it take you?"
"That's two questions, Carley."
"Oh, please just answer them!" I begged, ignoring the fact that I probably sounded completely pathetic. "I'm on deadline!"
"Uh... Well, I started collecting while in the Satellite when I was six years-old," he began, and I started to furiously scribble his every word onto the napkin without caring that the sharpie was probably bleeding through it and staining the wood. "My foster mom, Martha, had scrapped together enough money to buy me a starter pack. From that point on, I just started picking cards out of the trash, and spending what little money I could earn to buy more."
"Oh ho, this is great!" I exclaimed, grinning. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. Keep going!"
"... Soon, I started trading the cards I had obtained to try and create a more powerful deck," he continued flatly. "Truthfully, I still work today to make a better deck. It's a never-ending process." He paused, causing a lull in the conversation.
"And... ?" I questioned, now on the edge of my seat, leaning close to the phone.
"And... that's all."
"Really?" I questioned, adjusting my glasses as I glanced down at my napkin. "Ah, well, you still gave great quotes. Thanks so much Jack, you're a real life-saver! I love you."
I blushed horrendously, realizing my embarrassing slip-up. "Ah, ehm... J-Just ignore what I said!" I stammered loudly before making a dive for the phone to end the call. I made a painful crash-landing on the hardwood flooring but managed to press the 'end' button nonetheless. I breathed a sigh of relief and stuffed my phone into my back pocket before climbing back up into the chair. I knew in my gut that I would probably have to deal with what I said to Jack over the phone sooner or later, (or maybe if I was really lucky, I could pretend nothing ever happened and never have to address the issue) but I had my very important story to attend to.
I opened up the document that contained my poorly written article and highlighted all the text before pressing 'backspace,' erasing all of the content. After all, there is no shame getting a fresh start, right? I then picked up my napkin, and reviewed what Jack said in our brief interview. Feeling inspired, I set the paper cloth off to the side and began to type:
Making the 'Royal Flush' Deck
By Carley Nagisa
The probability of getting a Royal Flush in Poker is 1 out of
2,598,960 possible hands. However, the chances of making
the perfect duel monsters deck are even lower. Duelists will
spend years, perhaps even a lifetime preparing what they
hope to be the 'perfect' deck. Even the former King of Riding
Duels, Jack Atlas, has spent years upon years working to
build a powerful deck. "I started collecting [duel monster ca-
rds] while in the Satellite when I was six years-old," said At-
las. From that point on, Atlas has spent the rest of his dueli-
ng career trading cards and editing his deck to bring its stre-
ngth to its maximum potential. "I still work today to make a
better deck," said Atlas. "It's a never-ending process."
I grinned; well, it certainly wasn't my best article ever, no, not even close. But for tonight, it would save my career. Additionally, for the first time in a long time, I had actually enjoyed writing -- which was the reason I had decided to study journalism in the first place. I quickly and wordlessly looked over the article once to make sure there wasn't any errors before packaging it and sending it to the editor. As the story mailed itself, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the time; 11:37 p.m. Finished with time to spare.
I then noticed the little flashing envelope icon on my phone's screen, and remembered that I hadn't even read the text message that had prompted me to call Jack. I opened the message and squinted to read the small text:
'yusei and crow are out tomorrow so I was wondering if you'd like to hang out w/ me? text me.'
For the second time that night, I felt as though I would die, right then and there; but for an entirely different purpose. I suddenly realized with a chuckle that this probably meant Jack was super-confused when I called him demanding him to answer my question. However, this also meant I would have to make up an excuse for what I said to him... Still...
I opened a screen to reply and wrote:
'definitely. call me.'
Comments: I looooooved writing this. It was too much fun, especially since I love journalism myself. Anyway, reviews will make me very happy inside so please review!