By Rina
Author’s Note: This is basically a story making fun of myself through Rina. That might help explain this strange fanfiction (if you can call it that).
Rina sighed in frustration. She didn’t know what to write. But that was not what scared her.
What scared her was she didn’t know if she wanted to write.
This summer, finally free from the sometimes overwhelming, always time-consuming bonds of Jennyanydots’ School of the Arts, she was supposed to have written a whole truckload of fanfiction. All of them (or at least most of them) Jellicle Pulitzer-Prize winning of course.
But despite the time she now had on her paws to do it, she hadn’t produced a single one, prize-winning or otherwise.
She supposed it would be easier to write if she didn’t already have the type of fanfiction she wanted all planned out. Every time her pencil hovered above a fresh sheet of paper, the thing that stopped it from completing its journey was the question “Will this be what I want it to be? Or be so far from the original plot I can’t see anything I want in it?”
Now that this said plot was causing so much trouble for Rina, Rina tried to remember why she’d thought of it in the first place. Rina let out an involuntary groan as she remembered- her first fanfiction! All sickening 30 pages of it. Not that she’d ever let any of the other cats see a word of those pages (thank Bast!) The main characters (a cat called Astera and… who else? Mistoffelees) could hardly sit down together without the other one apologizing for the floor being too hard. As Rina thought over every one of those 30 pages, a realization begin to dawn on her.
Hadn’t some part of herself (okay, well most of herself) started to get disgusted with the carefully planned dialogue of the characters? Hadn’t she thought more than once about how nice it would be to have Mistoffelees curse Astera out just to have something different happen besides “Oh thank you [insert name of main character here], are you sure it’s alright??”
A slow smile began to light Rina’s face (if cats can smile, that is). She didn’t have to follow a carefully planned plot to make her story something she’d be proud to have written- she’d known what to do all along.
Rina bent her head to the blank page and began to write…