He pushed away from the computer briskly as the frustration built on his face. The words weren’t coming together as he’d wished and he was certainly less than satisfied with the mixture of words which haphazardly designed the previously blank white page. The multitude of destroyed copies littered the floor beneath his feet and the third opened red bull can signified a long night ahead. His well lit apartment cast a great glow down upon his work station, but cast very few ideas.
Martha watched him pace around the room while she simultaneously watched the Heroes marathon playing in front of her on the large HDTV dangling from the wall. She tried to focus on her favorite characters movements as to not get overly involved in his project. His incessant pacing gradually and likely purposefully pulled him directly between she and the NBC series she’d been waiting weeks to see. The State Farm commercial caused her to speak as she dashed for a can of orange soda in the nearby kitchen.
“Something wrong, Ant?” she said, knowing the answer but trying steer clear of the conversation. She knew he wanted to discuss it.
“Well, now that you ask. There is. I just can’t piece this together. I’ve been struggling with it for weeks now.” He thought back to the novel he’d been working on and wanted it to be just perfect.
With the safety of the ceramic wall dividing she and Ant, she rolled her eyes with confidence. She opened her big mouth months ago in pushing him to try something that his heart desired. Although he had dreams of becoming a New York Times best seller, his writing ability didn’t match the ideas that filled his head. She strolled back around the corner, with a semi smile on her face.
“I was hoping maybe you can give me some inspiration or something, you know.” Ant wondered about his next steps. He’d always sought her tips to salvage his confidence in taking on this project. Months had gone by with very little to show, and his stronghold on fulfilling his secret life desire was waning.
With one eye focused on the commercials playing on network television, she dashed over to his computer and read the few words that were scattered on his page. Some levels of amazement set in as the words entered her thought process.
“ Jeremy was scared. He didn’t not know what he shoulda did and he didn’t know anybody that would help him. He needed help.
She wanted to smile at his amateurish attempt at novel hood, but forgot that she was part of the reason he’d entertained this idea in the first place.
Chase your dreams, she said. You can be anything you want, she said. Now she regretted even uttering the word, book.
“Honey this is great, keep up the good work.” She watched the smile come across his face, as she jumped back to the couch just in time to catch the next segment of her favorite show.
He pulled his chair back up to the desk and continued to write.
Can you positively support someone in a venture, that they are obviously not good at?
Who should take the burden to inform someone that what they want to do, they probably shouldn't?
Is Martha right in pushing him to write or should she have shut him down?
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