The chair was plain and uncomfortable, identical to the one opposite, with its nondescript beige coloring and dark brown stripes. The man opposite her was flipping through index cards and mumbling to himself. She sat there waiting, and sipped the glass of water that was provided on the small table next to her.
“Thirty seconds!” the formless voice overhead rang out.
The man beside her snapped up, tucked the cards inside his suit jacket pocket and did an odd smiling stretch thing with his face.
She wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, she had never been on TV before, not like this, not being interviewed as someone of note.
“We’re live in five, four, three, two..” came the voice of god above. The red light on the camera facing them lit up.
“Good evening, and welcome to Chatting with Charlie, where we talk to notable people of the day. I am so pleased to introduce an up and coming writer who has just published her first novel titled “The Djin factory,” that’s djin with a d, not the alcohol.” Canned laughter came over speakers, which was really weird. He turned to the lady, and a different camera’s lights came on pointing at her, “So, tell me what writing is like for you.”
“Oh goodness, writing is like sucking out a piece of your soul and exposing it for all the world to see in the hopes it will feed their soul.”
Book Slut 