Stop Writing [ Ash Mojica ]

At two in the morning, Callie furiously typed away at their keys with half-bitten nails. They’re behind schedule, needing to finish their draft by the end of the week if they want to spend their summer editing the novel that’s going to be a bestseller before they hit twenty.
Callie’s been spending their junior year writing an eighty-thousand-word fantasy novel. They wrote in between passing periods, during lunch tucked away at the corner of their school’s library, and late in the night, sometimes passing on finishing their homework to figure out the hundredth synonym for said. Despite all the time they dedicated to their novel, it still wasn’t enough, and Callie felt like they’d never get the final chapter finished.
There was no actual deadline other than the imaginary one Callie had decided on. Telling themself that if they didn’t finish before summer, then the novel would never be done. By three in the morning, the chapter remained unfinished. Callie’s stamina, on the other hand, had depleted. Seated cross-legged on their bed in complete darkness, Callie’s head sank forward as their eyes slowly closed. Then their phone beeped loudly, waking them from their exhaustion.
When they checked their phone, Callie saw that they weren’t the only one up late on a school night; their best friend, Lio, was too. Lio texted them a screenshot of her blog where she was writing a fanfic based on their favorite video game series. It wasn’t anything new or original by any means—a self-indulgent story where Lio placed her favorite characters in cliché scenarios with overused tropes. It wasn’t anything like what Callie was writing—a world created from their imagination with original characters and a plot that took an entire notebook to plan out. Yet, what Lio sent Callie said otherwise.
Lio’s message read: Look—I’m at a thousand likes! The screenshot proved the numbers. Callie looked at their screen—a thousand likes—for a fanfic!
Callie shut their laptop, tossed the phone off their bed, and screamed into their pillow.

***

The next day at school, Lio called over to Callie, who sat on a bench rereading the jumble of words they had written half-asleep the night before.
“Hello? Callie?”
It wasn’t until Lio gently lowered the screen that Callie looked up at their friend.
“You writing?”
Callie shut their laptop, not wanting Lio to see the messy wordplay, grammar mistakes, and overall incoherent thoughts on display.
“No, I was reading,” Callie responded dryly.
Lio sat down beside Callie. They had on a shirt from the same video game they wrote fanfic for. The same fanfic that somehow got a thousand likes in less than five months.
On their backpacks, the two had matching keychains from the series, Callie with the hero, and Lio with the hero’s best friend. Unlike Lio, Callie rarely had time to play the game with how much they had devoted to writing.
Finally, Lio mentioned what Callie had been thinking about nonstop since reading her message. “Did you get my text? I did send it pretty late last night, but I thought you might have still been up.”
“Hm?” Callie asked as they put away their laptop. “I was up. I was writing though.” Lio’s eyes sparkled, her brown eyes shining with speckles of yellow like a tiger’s eye gemstone. “Oh, of course you were. Made any progress?”
Callie looked up. “I’m almost done. But it’s hard to write a conclusion.”
Lio nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know how I’m ever gonna finish my fic.” There was a moment of silence. “Well, I don’t mean to brag,” Lio continued and held up their phone.
‍ ‍Sure you do, thought Callie with a glare at the ground. Why else bring it up? You want to rub your success in my face!
‍ ‍“I just hit a thousand likes on my fic last night!” Lio handed Callie her phone, which displayed the same numbers they had seen and chosen to ignore.
Callie had no choice but to accept Lio’s phone and pretend like it was the first time they had seen the news. “Wowww…” They struggled to find the words. “Congrats…And you’ve only been writing since what, January?”
“February,” corrected Lio. She scrolled down on her phone. “And look how many comments my last chapter got.”
Callie saw the number of comments displayed on the screen. “Wow…over a hundred comments…That’s great. They sure do love your work.” They as in the world.
Before either of them could say anything else, the school bell rang. The distance that spread whenever they spoke about writing disappeared, and the two were back to being friends again.

***

After school, Lio invited Callie to grab a drink at the boba shop the two frequented. At first, Callie wanted to go home and write, especially after reading how awful the chapter looked now that they had a clear head, but Lio insisted.
“We can celebrate the one thousand likes on my fic.”
Callie sucked in a breath. They didn’t want their jealousy to ruin their friendship with Lio. “Okay, but it’s your treat,” they joked.
At the boba shop, Lio asked the question Callie always dreaded would come up whenever they were together. “Have you read my fic yet?”
“Oh…” Callie turned their attention to the drink in their hand. “Not yet…”
The awkward sound of a finished drink echoed between the friends. Lio, who still had some of her drink left, fiddled with the straw. “Oh…Right, well you’re always busy writing your best seller,” she laughed. “What’s your word count now?”
“Eighty thousand,” Callie quickly answered.
“Wow, that’s a lot!”
Callie stared at their drink, eyeing the one tapioca pearl that remained at the bottom. Your fic is almost there, they thought. Fifty thousand words…
“When it’s done, do you think I can read it?” Lio asked with a soft voice shyer than her usual tone.
Callie got up, their empty drink clutched between their fingers. “Of course,” they smiled, “when I’m done.”
“And then you’ll read my fic too, right?”
Lio’s words reached Callie as they stood in the middle of the shop. “Of course,” they repeated.
The truth, however, was that Callie had read Lio’s fic. Since her first chapter, Callie had been secretly spying on Lio’s fic. They read every chapter, every update and blog post—never telling Lio. Why? Callie didn’t have a good reason.
Later that night when Lio updated her fic, Callie, huddled in bed, masked in the darkness of their room save for the light emanating from their screen, read every word. Even though Lio’s writing was just fanfic with characters that weren’t her own, in a world she borrowed, every word that Lio wrote was beautiful. After finishing the chapter, Callie set their phone down. They looked over to their laptop, which lay dormant on their desk.
They didn’t feel like writing a word.

***

A week before summer break, Callie had still not finished their novel. During lunch, they hid in the corner of the library, staring at a screen that hadn’t updated in twenty minutes. Groaning, Callie slammed their head onto the table.
“Writer’s block?” asked a familiar voice.
Callie looked up to see Lio. Immediately, Callie reached for their device and shut their laptop. “No,” they lied. They didn’t want to admit defeat—not to Lio, their rival who didn’t seem to struggle in the same way they did. “I just need to finish one more chapter. Just one more.” Lio sat down beside Callie with an idea on the tip of her tongue. “How about I read what you have?”
“What?” Callie asked, unsure of the offer.
“Yeah, I’ll read what you have and give you feedback, then maybe writing your final chapter will come easier to you. Please, I’d love to help. Besides, I really want to read your work. You’ve been keeping your writing from me all year. Don’t you remember, you always used
to show me your writing…” Lio lowered her head. Why did you suddenly stop?”
Callie sank into their seat. “I don’t know…” But when they looked over at Lio, their best friend since elementary school, who never said no to reading any of their writing before, they felt compelled to share their work.
“Okay,” they gave in. Lio beamed a smile that Callie had a hard time looking away from. “If you don’t finish it right away, no worries.”
Callie didn’t want Lio to read their work. They had lost their usual confidence in their writing, scared that Lio, now with a popular fanfic, might not like their work as she did before. What Lio said was true; Callie used to share everything with Lio—every short story, draft, and idea. Every time Lio complimented their work, praising Callie’s writing and imagination.
Callie didn’t think their writing matched Lio's—surely not when Lio was confident enough to share her writing online, for thousands to see and like—no love. Meanwhile, the only one who ever read Callie’s work was Lio. If they lost their one fan, what then?

A few days later, after school, Lio asked to see Callie at the boba shop. Callie didn’t know what to expect.
“I finished it,” Lio said simply.
Callie froze. “You finished it!?” Callie looked around, unsure what Lio would say next. They were too afraid to ask questions—Did you like it? Did you hate it?
‍ ‍Lio didn’t give Callie a chance to ask any questions. She practically leapt over the table to where Callie sat. “I loved it!” Lio's eyes sparkled like a child staring at a fantastical sight. She pulled out her tablet where Callie had shared the document to their draft. On the screen, Lio had highlighted paragraphs and scribbled notes in the margins.
Callie was shocked; Lio treated their work with care and paid attention to details they never would have thought she’d catch.
Lio spoke highly of Callie’s work and asked questions as she went through the chapters. Callie quickly became overwhelmed. Lio’s voice faded to the back of Callie’s mind as guilt sank into their stomach.
‍ ‍Tell Lio, they thought. Tell her that you’ve read her fanfic. Tell her that you love it. Tell her that you love it so much that it makes you feel crazy. You’re jealous of her work. You think she’s a better writer than you. Tell her how much it means to you that she likes your work. Tell her that you can’t compare to her. Compliment her. Tell her. Tell her!
‍ ‍But, in the end, Callie couldn’t. When Lio finished talking, Callie thanked her for reading and told her that they had an idea how to end the novel.
“I’m glad I could help,” Lio said with a genuine smile.
But Callie lied.

Later that night, alone in their room, Callie thought back to the amazing things Lio said about their work. Compliments that felt wrong to accept. Praise that Callie didn’t agree with. It all felt so wrong. Writing, which always felt so right, suddenly felt wrong.
Sitting on their bed, Callie reached for their laptop. They just needed to write one more chapter. One more to end a year of writing. For an hour they stared at a blank screen, unable to think of an ending good enough to feel accomplished.
Finally, Callie typed in the name of Lio’s blog. To their surprise, they saw that Lio had updated their fanfic. They clicked on the latest chapter. At the end of Lio’s chapters, she always added a note that explained the thought process behind whatever she wrote. It was simple things like her inspirations or the music she was listening to.
Callie finished the chapter. Another great chapter, they thought. Why did they even read it, they questioned. It only made them grow more frustrated at the fact that they couldn’t think of anything to write. Then, Callie caught Lio’s note at the end of the chapter.

This week I read a draft of the novel my best friend is writing. They have always been a big inspiration for me when it comes to writing. I started this fanfic because my friend always made writing seem so fun. I’m not confident enough to create my own world, so I thought the next best thing would be to continue a story I already love. Like my friend, I’m also struggling with an ending to this fic. Writing is hard, but not writing is even harder. That’s probably why coming up with an ending seems impossible, because you don’t want the story to end. Sometimes, I just want to abandon this fic altogether, but seeing how hard my friend is working makes me want to try a little harder. Thank you to everyone who continues to read this silly story.
— Lio

Callie’s eyes filled with tears. That’s not fair, they thought. They didn’t believe in the kind words shared by Lio—Lio, who, for all they knew, had a best friend that didn’t even read her own writing. Lio, who Callie thought was a much better writer. Lio, who Callie was jealous of.
‍ ‍Stop writing, begged Callie. Stop writing, they cried with hot tears running down their cheeks. Stop writing, they slammed their hands on their keys until a jumble of letters spread across the screen. Stop writing—stop writing—stop—!
‍ ‍Callie shut their laptop with such force that they almost thought they heard a cracking-like sound. They crawled backward, away from the device, and huddled at the furthest corner of their bed, hitting the frame. Stop writing, the voice continued. Like a turtle hiding in its shell, Callie crawled into a ball and sobbed.
‍ ‍Stop writing, they repeated, but Callie wasn’t sure who they were begging to stop.

Ash Mojica (they/them) is a nonbinary, Mexican American writer. Their writing has appeared in The Attic Review, Blade and Bloom, and The Orange Rose. You can usually find them at a coffee shop, drinking an iced coffee and writing. Online, they can be found @therealamojica.