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How to Write and Publish More Successfully

Get a Ghostwriting Laptop    
by Constancia Academic Writer    
Jenna stared at the computer screen. The document was blank. She didn’t know where to start, exactly, but she was certain if she did start the story would work itself out in the end. One of the things she knew was that she was a pantser. Outlining the work had never worked for her before, and she probably should have admitted to herself that was because she was too lazy to finish the outlines in the first place. Writing was something that should be easy. People talked about all the ideas they had – the plot bunnies that took over their lives, wanting to be written, and things should have been that way for her. Sighing, she brushed a hand through her hair. Things never had been that way for her. Whenever she started something it ended up being put aside when she got bored of it, which never took very long. Biting hard on her lip she made the decision she should be working on one of them, instead of doing nothing, and opened up a couple of the old documents, wondering if she was going to be able to continue with any of them.   There was a vampire novel, from when they were the in thing. Jenna had never much liked vampires, so it wasn’t something she really wanted to write, but if she was going to write something it was going to be for the money. She wasn’t one of those people who wrote because they couldn’t not write. If she had been it probably would have been easier for her to stick with fan-fiction, rather than attempting original fiction, because at least with fan-fiction there was a character already there to write about. As she went through the vampire novel, which was three pages long, she realised why she’d walked away from it. None of the characters felt like real people. They were cardboard cut-outs, nothing like the characters she read about in the best sellers. She closed the document, moving onto the angel novel she’d started when they were the big thing, even though she knew very little about angels.   All of the characters in the angel novel were just as flat as those in the vampire novel. Jenna shook her head. If she was going to write a good story she needed to have good characters. She needed to understand them, their motivations, but she knew the moment she started filling in one of those stupid questionnaires she’d get bored. She needed to be able to write something quick, and simple, that would make her money, because that was what she needed. She needed money. Writing fiction, according to the websites she’d been to, was a quick way of getting the money she wanted, especially if she was willing to write erotica. Erotica would be a lot easier if she could write the sex scenes, though. Every time she started she realised she couldn’t write good sex and that was when she gave up again.     ***   It was a dream, but it didn’t feel like a dream. Jenna looked over the shoulder of someone she was certain she recognised from the dust cover of one of the hardbacks she had on her book shelf. He was writing what was certain to be his next bestseller and she was there, watching as he wrote it. The words flowed in a way they never had for her and there was a part of her that hated him for that. For a few seconds all she did was watch, before picking up a notebook from out of nowhere so she could start copying what he was writing. As she hadn’t heard anything about his new book, and it didn’t seem as though she was reading something that was a part of one of the series she’d read, there was a chance she might be able to get the book out before he did. When her alarm woke up Jenna tried to remember what she’d been writing, but it was gone. Sighing, she went to move, and that was when she realised she had her notebook in her hand. The words she’d written in her dream were there. She didn’t even stop to think about what she was doing. Instead she made her way to the computer, turned it on, and looked through the notes she’d written, realising she’d had more than one dream. The last one was just the one she remembered. In her notebook was the first chapter of six different stories and they were all the sort of thing she would love to read. Smiling, because she knew that was her chance to make the money she’d always dreamed of, she sat at the computer and started typing. Getting the words onto the page was the first step towards her having a career as a novelist. It was much easier when those words had been created by people who were true storytellers. After a couple of hours of work she had everything ready to go. Jenna knew those six chapters would have taken a lot longer for the writers, but all she was doing was transcribing what she’d read in her dreams. With that done she made her way out to the kitchen. Soon enough, she hoped, she’d have six complete novels, and then she’d be able to sent them out to the publishers, as long as the writers she was dreaming about didn’t send out the works before she could. She told herself the most important thing was to check to see when she was dreaming of. That would make it easier for her to know if she was making the right choice by transcribing the stories they’d been working on. It seemed likely she was. Why else would she be having the dreams? Someone wanted her to be the one who got the accolades for the work those other writers had done and she didn’t have a problem with that at all.   ***   Three weeks later the stories were complete. For a long time Jenna stared at what she’d written, not quite able to believe it really had happened, but then she prepared the files ready to be sent out to a number of agents. Knowing she could get those stories out before they could be written by someone else was a relief, and she’d already checked to make certain she was having dreams of the sequels. They’d already been started. With a cup of coffee in her hand she went through a long list of agents, making certain not to send any of the novels she’d written to agents who knew the authors who would be writing them in the future. Once she’d sent off the novels she smiled to herself. She was going to be the bestselling novelist she’d always believed she could be. As soon as that was done Jenna started work on the next chapter of the sequels. It would be a year before the actual writers of the work would know she’d already sent off their stories, which gave her more than enough time to complete all the sequels in the series she’d taken as her own, and with every story she copied she felt more capable of writing her own work. She’d started off something in the urban fantasy genre, as that was one of the few she hadn’t already written for, making it possible for her to see her own characters come to life in a way they never had done before – they were real to her in a way they never had been before. Of course it helped she was basing it on real life. No one would believe she was the main character, an author who was able to see novels being written in the future. It was impossible. Her life was something that had become impossible to believe, but it was real. Finally, at three in the afternoon, Jenna turned to her emails. A voice in the back of her mind told her there was no chance of anyone getting back to her after less than twenty-four hours, but she couldn’t help hoping maybe one of them would have had a chance to read the works she’d sent out. There were no replies. For a moment she thought about sending out some more emails and then decided against it. She had time. She had screenshots to prove she’d written those novels a year before the authors who actually come up with the works had, to protect her from the accusations she was certain she’d have to deal with. She was ready for whatever came next, even if that something was the end of her dreams. She knew she could write and she’d have her urban fantasy series to fall back on. Breathing deeply, telling herself she had made the right choice, she stood, and made her way out to the kitchen. Focusing on making dinner would take her mind off worrying the agents wouldn’t accept her work.   ***   Giving interviews was one of the hardest parts about being the newest bestseller, who had three books out, three books coming out, and another three books with agents who’d taken them to auction, certain Jenna would get a lot of money for them. She managed to smile at Susan. “I like to write.” Jenna shrugged. “It’s something I’ve been doing for a long time now, so I have plenty of works no one would want to see.” She’d made certain to finish them all and got some help from an old friend to change when the older stories were written. “These never stories are the ones that worked out for me. I never expected them all to be taken on the way they have been, but I’m definitely not going to complain.” “Where do you get your ideas from?” Jenna laughed. “Dreams, mostly. Really vivid dreams. I don’t turn all of them into novels, but a lot of them I do.” “Tell me about them.” “Every one of them… sometimes, strangely, they seem more real than real life. I’ve dreamt of being in those worlds so often I know them. I know the smells, I know the people I’m likely to meet, I know what the rain feels like.” “You even dream the erotica?” “Honestly, yes, and it’s one of the hardest things to let go of in the mornings. When I wake up and I know I’m not there it’s difficult to accept I’m in the real world.” “I can’t imagine what that must be like.” “Dreaming of those worlds is one of the most wonderful things. For a little while I am the characters in my books.” “One of your most recent novels is about a writer who dreams the novels other people have written. Is that something that’s ever happened to you?” “Like everyone I have deja vu.” Jenna nibbled her bottom lip. “I have dreamt about reading a couple of novels before, although I have to admit that’s been in one of the other worlds, but I haven’t ever dreamed of a book written here.” Susan studied her. “What do you say to the novelists who are accusing you of stealing their ideas?” “As my books were written long before theirs was I don’t believe they have a leg to stand on legally. I have screenshots I created at the time when I was writing those stories, because I like to see where I’ve got to when I’ve finished a day’s work.” That was half a lie and half the truth. “I do feel very sorry for them. It must be hard for them to have done all that hard work, only to realise they must have been copying my work all the time.” “They said they’ve never read what you’ve done.” “I have no idea then. I don’t know how they could be so similar. I was the first one to have those novels out to an agent, so I’m not worried.”   ***   Three months later the dreams faded away. It didn’t stop Jenna. She continued working on the series she’d started, knowing she could write them, and the novelists who’d tried to accuse her of stealing their ideas had been laughed out of court. For the first time in her life she was working a job she truly enjoyed. Smiling, she focused on writing the next book in the series she’d taken from a well known horror writer. The dreams had been sent to her for a reason. She still didn’t know what, exactly, that reason was, but she didn’t really care. “You should care.” For a moment all Jenna could do was sit where she was, and then she turned to see who was speaking to her. “Who are you?” “I’m a friend.” “Really?” “When I had those dreams I did the very same thing you did, Jenna, and I only realised later they were draining my life. You have a chance to set things right. If you do you might be able to survive this, and still live off the money you’ve earned from the urban fantasy work you’ve written.” “Are you telling me you’re dead?” “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” He smiled. “I made the choice not to tell the truth.” “How come I don’t know who you are?” “It all happened a very long time ago. The only reason I was permitted to come to you now was because the people in the afterlife don’t like it when things like this happen.” He shrugged. “I could show you what happened, if you want.”   ***   He sat beside her as she typed. The tears, fortunately, had stopped, so Jenn could see the keyboard. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” He put a hand on hers and she was surprised she could feel it. “I had to do something to help when I realised you were going to end up the same way I did.” “Okay, I think I’m done.” There was silence as he read through what she’d written. “That works.” “I don’t want to do this.” “Exactly what are you going to do with all the money you’ve earned if you’re dead, Jenna.” “It won’t be my money soon enough. It will belong to the novelists who should have had it.” “Yes, it will, and that isn’t a bad thing. You will be able to keep the money you made from the urban fantasy series, and now you have an interesting twist to add to it.” “If anyone will publish me.” Laughing, he stood. “I believe they’ll be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt this time. Just make sure, if you ever do have those dreams again, you don’t do anything stupid. The novels you stole belonged to other people.” “I promise you I won’t do it again.” “Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “Good luck.” She didn’t turn to look at him, instead pressing send on the email she’d just written. “I’m going to need it.” Scientific_American boring machine

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