Pippin looked across the dock at the darkened skies, his eyes red and bloodshot and cradled by dark grey hammocks. His fingers clutched the edge of the strap of his backpack as it draped across the wooden boards. He took a deep breath and walked over to the edge, peering nervously down at the swaying waves. He had one chance to do this so he had to decide quickly. One chance to make things right…
Rachel stopped writing to take a sip of her coffee. As she sipped she grimaced and stared down at the cup in her hand. It was cold? How long ago had she made this that it was already stone cold? How long had she been writing for? She found the key in her pocket and opened up the bottom draw of her desk, pulling out her phone and turning it on. It came to life and beeped at her with all her missed messages—the very reason she always locked it away when trying to write. She put checking them to one side and looked at the time. 2am? She’d been writing for over four hours? Well, no wonder her coffee was so cold.
She smiled and stared at the work in front of her, stretching her arms into the air satisfactorily. How long had it been since she’d felt this way about her writing? At least a couple years, right? It almost made her tear up, she felt so relieved. And of all the characters to provide the inspiration, she never expected it to be Pippin. She knew her Agent was going to despair when he found out. She had been told so often, and had even experienced it firsthand, that the fans would never accept a new Pippin story. As far as the fans were concerned Pippin had been murdered off screen in as gruesome a way as possible. Rachel shrugged. It’s okay, though. I’m not writing this for the ‘so-called’ fans. I’m writing this for the new fans.
Specifically she was writing this for Lucy. After reading the first couple of chapters with her Mum after returning from the museum, her daughter had proceeded to borrow anything her Mum would let her with the promise ‘she would return it later’. Rachel didn’t even mind if she forgot to return it. She owed Lucy everything. She made a mental note to make her daughter her favourite peanut butter and lemon cake for dessert tomorrow to thank her. Rachel would miss out on lunch for the next week to help pay for the ingredients but it was worth it.
She frowned, suddenly remembering the new shoes that Kimi needed and the pencil case she needed to buy Jace so he could give his older sister hers back. She thumbed the pages she’d written today and felt the ball of stress inside her head start pushing and pulling on her temples. She knew that this could be a great book. She had every faith in herself that this could be one of the best things she’d ever written… but that wouldn’t matter if it didn’t sell. If Edgar and Philly couldn’t gain the popularity they once had. If the mere mention of Pippin meant people wouldn’t pick it up and give it a chance. It didn’t matter what she felt, if it didn’t sell and she didn’t collect the small amount she got from the sale of each book, her family would still be stuck in the same awful situation. What was the use of a published book if you had no home to write the next one in?
She sighed and rested her head on the table. Why did doing what you love have to be so hard?
A buzzing started behind her and she slowly lifted her head and turned around in her swivel chair. Edgar and Philly again? What did they want this time? She considered not opening the book and instead just choosing to leave the room and go to bed. After all, she was tired. But it didn’t seem fair to do that. She’d had spent a pleasant 4 hours in their world and really she owed them at least a bit of her time. It was their world and it was good of them to let her borrow it. She stood up, went to the shelf and opened the book, holding her breath as she was pulled onto the deck of Edgar and Philly’s boat.
She was surprised as she landed, the boat rocking violently in howling winds, to see a group of people she’d never seen before… and her Agent?
“Jackson, what are you doing here?”
Jackson was pale white and was clinging to the side of the boat tightly. “I—I don’t know. I thought last time had been a dream or something.”
“It was a dream, lad,” Edgar yelled, standing on a wooden box next to the group to make himself seem taller. “Any chance to spend time with me is a dream come true for all my fans.”
“It definitely is.” Grizabella was stood underneath him, looking up at him adoringly. Even though Edgar was stood on the box, Grizabella still reached his nose in height next to him, though she was trying to stoop slightly to make herself seem shorter. Her eyes were lit up, in awe.
“See, Ms. Carin,” Edgar said, hands on his hips and striking what he called his ‘hero’s pose’. “Our stories still have their fans. People who are desperate to see more of the great Edgar… and his sidekick, Philly.”
“Sidekick?” Philly asked, his eyebrow raised. He was stood on the same side of the boat as Rachel, unbeknownst to her at first. She jumped as he spoke and took a deep breath, tapping her chest, trying to calm down her quickened heartbeat.
“Are you not always by my ‘side’, ‘kicking’ all the bad guys we face?” Edgar questioned. “Don’t be so dramatic, Philly.”
“Ms. Cairn.” David Hillborough stumbled forward, a bucket in one hand in case he had the urge to throw up again (after his first visit, Philly had thought it was a good idea to be prepared). With the waves being so rough he was struggling to keep on his feet, let alone being able to stop himself from vomiting. He reached out his hand and Rachel took it, shaking it gently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I knew your predecessor well.”
“You knew Ellen?” Rachel released her hand from his, grimacing as her nose took in the distinct sour smell of vomit.
“Oh yes, we were quite good friends when she was working with the studio.”
“Oh.” Rachel raised an eyebrow and looked between Edgar and Philly. “So that’s what this is about?” She turned to face them both. “So what? I say that nobody wants Edgar and Philly anymore and you take it into your own hands to prove that I’m wrong? Is that it?”
“Not exactly,” Philly said.
“Exactly!” Edgar said, loudly, over the top of Philly. He jumped down off his box and came over to Rachel, a joyous spring in his step and a broad smile across his face. “And by gosh, were you wrong, Ms. Cairn. Not only do we have one of our biggest fans here…” He winked at Grizabella who almost fainted from her position on her knees, still trying to remain shorter than Edgar even with him off his box. Rachel guessed that Edgar had asked her to do it and she’d been more than willing to oblige his prideful request. “We’ve also managed to gain an agreement from your Agent and the fellow who can greenlight you getting those royalty things that can give you money.”
Rachel looked at Philly, not trusting Edgar or his bravado one bit. “Is that right, Philly?”
The quiet giant nodded his head. “Yes, he’s telling the truth. We’ve talked it out all together and we all reached an agreement.”
Rachel looked around the group of people and saw them all nodding their heads, some more energetically than others as both David and Jackson clung to wherever they could find to brace against the waves. “Really?”
“Ms.Cair…” David wobbled, placing his head into the bucket and spitting up in it before pulling his head back out, now sea-green like buried seaweed. “Obviously, it’s a risk but… Well, maybe there is a chance Edgar and Philly would work again. Nostalgia sells, so they say.”
“And you would pay me the royalties?”
“Not only will they pay you the royalties,” Philly said. “But you get to do the same as Ellen and help write it. You’ll have full control.”
Rachel could feel herself getting excited but she tried to calm herself down. “And… You’re going to pay me for that, too?”
David nodded, checking before he spoke that he didn’t need to be sick again. “Yes.” He paused. “Though, of course, because it is a risk it will be significantly less than for other projects.” He shrugged. “You know how this industry is?”
Rachel felt her shoulders droop and her headache started to come back again. “Oh? And if it doesn’t do well?”
“Your earnings would be based on how well it does, so yes, it would be significantly less if it doesn’t do well… But, in all fairness, the studio would also lose out if it didn’t succeed.”
“So, let’s say, I wanted to include Pippin in the film?”
Grizabella frowned. “Gods, why would you want to include him? I thought we all agreed he was dead somewhere.”
Rachel frowned at Grizabella. “Actually, I just started writing an Edgar and Philly story again…”
“You did?” Edgar cheered. “That’s great news! I hope you’re ready for the next adventure, Philly, my boy.”
“With a focus on Pippin.”
Edgar swung himself around, angrily. “What? No. Why would you want to focus on that annoying little brat?”
“Hey!” Philly said, angrier than Rachel had ever heard him. “He may be a nuisance, but he’s still my nephew.”
Rachel stared at him, amazed. Just today Rachel had written a very loving scene between Pippin and Philly—the first of it’s kind as all of the older takes of their relationship had been very antagonistic—and it already seemed to have had some effect on Philly.
Edgar came forward and tried to grab Rachel’s arm. He missed, however, as she took a step back. “Fine, keep the brat in, but I don’t have too many scenes with him, right? Please, tell me, Ms. Cairn, you’ve at least the decency to keep us apart?”
“Oh yes, believe me, I’ve kept you far away from him,” Rachel said, though she stopped herself from telling him the full truth. And the truth was, she still needed a break from Edgar, even if not Philly.
David had been silent, vomiting again as a large wave shook the boat but now he spoke. “I’m not sure I can sign off on a Pippin story. It’ll be hard enough selling the Board on Edgar and Philly, let alone a character that’s guaranteed to be hated. No, if you were to do this it would have to be a remake of one of the older stories. As I said, Nostalgia sells.”
“So, I’d be not making much money for potentially a long time, if much at all, and I wouldn’t even be working on something I really want to work on?” Rachel asked, rubbing her forehead. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do that. I can’t do any of this…”
“Oh, but you have to Ms. Cairn,” Edgar said, desperately. “We’ve provided you everything you need… and what is Edgar and Philly without a little risk, right?”
Rachel didn’t even want to point out how hypocritical he was being for the man who had just cried about Pippin being added back into the books. Still, she considered briefly whether he was right. If it did work she would have more than enough for her family… Until she didn’t. David had said she knew the industry and truthfully, she did. Which is exactly why she knew what the answer had to be. “I’m sorry. As much as I want to, I can’t take that risk… And the fact is, none of us should have to. Ellen was so desperate to get out of this story and job that she practically tricked me into it. I’m pretty sure the same was done to her. I never gave up the stories, not because I wanted to write them—in fact, I never wanted to write them ever again after that last book—but because I couldn’t put that weight onto somebody else’s shoulders. I’m sorry.” She turned to Philly and looked into his sincere eyes, close to tears. “Until all this changes—until all this gets less hard, and doing what I love is less ‘risky’—I can’t do it anymore. You can’t fix this by finding more ways to overwork me.”
She turned back to Edgar who was extremely pale and looking as if he was going to need to borrow David’s bucket in a second. “I’m not writing another word until I get some respect—from all of you. Philly—open the door.”
“Philly—don’t you dare,” Edgar whimpered.
Philly glared at him and pulled the remote out of his pocket. “She has a right to refuse, Eddie. She always has.” He clicked the button and Rachel disappeared in a flash of light, giving Philly a thankful stare as she left.
“No!” Edgar yelled, jumping at Philly angrily.
Philly pushed him down easily and clicked the remote again, sending all of the other people home as well, in a flash of light so bright it almost blinded the two characters left on the boat. He looked at the remote silently, still holding Edgar back with his other arm. “She has to make her own choices, no matter how they affect us.” He leaned his arm backwards and threw it forwards quickly, sending the remote hurtling through the air and into the deep, rough waves. Dark clouds crawled over the sky. The waves kept getting higher and higher.
Edgar screamed, running to the edge of the boat. “What are you doing? Are you insane?”
“Maybe,” Philly said. “It’s time for a new adventure, Eddie.”
“Edgar!” Edgar yelled, diving into the water.
Philly grinned as a shadow appeared on the far end of the dock, backpack dragging along the wooden boards and looking up into the dark skies. He couldn’t wait to find out what would happen next… but he was willing to anyway.
THE END
A writer is not just a pen,
They’re not just words
On an empty page.
They’re not just worlds
Inside their overworked head.
They are all of this
And more.
They are experiences
And emotions.
They know their creations
And love their characters
More than they
Love themselves.
But writers
Still live in reality
As much as in their mind.
They still need to live
So that they can continue
Loving all they do.
Feed the writers,
Feed their worlds,
Feed reality.
Signed,
The Literary Onion
P.S. This whole piece started as an exploration of what was happening, and all the feelings being shared during the Writer and Actor’s Strikes in the US. Many of the ideas from this piece were coming from the bits and pieces I was hearing from people experiencing it in the media. Sometimes, when you’re trying to figure something out you see in the news (especially for me), it’s helpful to write or think of a story exploring it. Unfortunately I didn’t manage to finish before the end of the Strikes, but thankfully they at least managed to end with a resolution that seemingly everyone was happy with. I hope you enjoyed reading The Character’s Strike (Back). I apologise for the lack of pictures after the initial ones but the software I use broke and I have no money or time to replace it as of now. What did you think? Did Rachel do the right thing? What do you think happens next? If you enjoyed it, please like and share. Thank you for reading.
The Literary Onion 