Editing Reality

By Solitarycafe

As most men who make their living by the pen, Gavin is far more adept with the written word than the spoken. Thus far, his introversion has served him well, but that all changes when Tara O'Brien gets hired on as a fellow journalist. Out of reach and out of league, Gavin can't even manage to introduce himself to the beautiful woman, let alone ask for a date. All he can do is put his thoughts down in the form of journal entries, an ineffective yet comforting past time.
When he writes within an old, strange journal he found at a book store, however, he begins to realize that something is off. Tara suddenly introduces herself to him on a whim, in exactly the way he wished...verbatim. The journalist is both piqued and horrified by the mystical journal he's stumbled upon, and he embarks on a quest to test its limits. It very well may have the power to change anything, but at what cost?
A closet dom fights for his hesitant submissive in a modern tale of guilt, desire, love and ethical dilemma. Gavin battles his inner demons as he strives to change both himself and Tara's mind and body...one edit at a time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Solitarycafe
• Release date: Jun 22, 2021

Solitarycafe

Coffee addict, lover of rubber ducks and all the finer things in life!

Book preview

Editing Reality

by Solitary Cafe

Copyright 2021 Solitary Cafe

All Right Reserved

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and events are all used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events and people, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This e-book is licensed for personal use and may not be resold. If you wish to share this e-book with someone else, please encourage them to purchase their own copy. Lots of hard work went into the making of this novel, and the author would greatly appreciate the respect!

Chapters

-1-

-2-

-3-

-4-

-5-

-Epilogue-

-1-

Five dollars...for this piece of shit? Gavin grimaced at the old, battered copy of 'Of Mice and Men’ and tossed it aside.

Really, how does this place stay in business? He muttered under his breath, Certainly not from my business alone…

The bookstore was musty and aged, with creaking floors and cracked stucco walls. Still, he frequented the used wasteland because he occasionally got lucky at the rummage bins, but he'd already tossed aide several Steinbeck novels and two copies of ‘The invisible Man’, and

If I see one more copy of ‘Dracula’ I swear I'm walking out.

He shifted another pile of dusty, mildewed books and continued to dig diligently. He knew that the good books were always buried under the tired classics, and though he knew they were classics for a reason, it was that same reason he was looking for something different.

Frankenstein, he muttered with amused disgust as he flipped over what he'd thought was a promising hard back. He was about to toss it over to share the fate of its other discarded comrades when he saw something beneath it, and instead of throwing Frankenstein, he simply shifted it to his free hand and reached into the bin.

Huh? he muttered with mild interest as he pulled up a faded, leather bound book. There was some sort of design burned into the front, but he didn't bother to look at it as he flipped the cover open and glanced at the first page.

Okay… he frowned slightly as he saw a blank page. He turned to the next, and saw that it too, was blank. He cocked his brow and flipped through several more pages, until he concluded that he’d stumbled upon a completely blank notebook of some sort.

He set the copy of Frankenstein down and turned the journal back to the front. The design there depicted some sort of tree with hundreds of branches jutting out in all directions. In the middle of the tree, the shape of a flame could be seen, but besides that, there was no other marking.

Gavin frowned as he looked around. There were a few other patrons in the used bookstore, but it was almost disturbingly quiet. The mid thirties journalist wasn’t a superstitious man, but for the briefest moment he felt as if he’d found something that didn’t belong in his hands. He shrugged the feeling off quickly, however, and glanced down at the blank notebook.

If nothing else, it would make a nice journal.

How much for this? He asked the woman working behind the counter as he approached it.

The woman was perhaps ten years his senior, and she recognized him with a small smile, Oh, is it not labeled?

He handed it to her, I didn’t see a label on it. It’s completely blank, anyway, I just thought it might make a cool notebook.

Blank? The woman pursed her lips and examined it for a moment, Weird. Oh well, if you want it, I’ll sell it to you for a buck; you’re in here all the time, so I won’t even tell the owner about it.

I appreciate that, Gavin smiled as he passed a five over to the woman.

Need a bag? The woman asked him as she opened the register and handed him four ones back.

Naw, thanks, the journalist took the journal and smiled. He hadn’t found any good books, but at least the trip hadn’t been a total loss.

-A Few Days Later-

Gavin, are you finished with that piece about how VR might affect kids?

Gavin held in a sigh and adjusted his glasses as he turned away from his computer and faced his boss, I’m editing it as we speak. I was going to have it done yesterday, but I was finishing something for Moira.

Gavin’s boss, Sammy, grinned. She was a tall, broad woman, not beautiful in the traditional sense, but Gavin found her to be attractive in her own way. She’d been heading up their department for a little over a year and she’d treated their group fairly, and so far he hadn’t had any problems working for her.

Thanks, Gavin, I’ll look it over and let you know if we need anything changed, I appreciate you. She ducked out of his cubicle before she sprang back in immediately, Oh, I forgot to tell you: there are bagels in the break room.

Thanks, Gavin spun back to his computer and continued to look over his article. He wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, and he disliked how everyone crowded the break room all at once every time there was food. He was used to waiting and simply taking whatever was left afterwards, and so he continued to tap away at his computer.

A little less than an hour later, Gavin leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. He’d just finished sending out the article to Sammy, and he figured most everyone would have cleared out of the break room. He stood languidly and stretched before heading out and working his way through the maze of cubicles.

As he went, he heard the relaxing sounds of his coworkers talking on the phone and tapping away at their computers. Originally, when he’d graduated with his degree in journalism, Gavin had thought he would be able to start his own technology testing blog and eventually build his own reviewing company, but as most young aspirations do, the idea lost steam early on.

At least I get to write for a living...and I've still got all my hair, he reminded himself with a chuckle.

Overall, things were going well, except for one little thing…

Tara!

Gavin turned into the break room and saw Tara O'Brien sitting at one of the tables. He almost gasped, but managed to keep his composure as he pretended not to notice her. Tara was the newest edition to their team, and since her hire date she’d distracted him like nothing else ever had. He didn’t know what it was about her, but every time he saw her it was as if he reverted into an acne ridden, sweaty palmed teenager. He hadn’t even managed to introduce himself, and it seemed that she didn’t even know he existed.

Now’s your chance, idiot! He screamed at himself as he went for the box of bagels on the table. As he’d thought, there were only a few sad plain bagels left, and he grabbed one mechanically. He tried to think of a clever, engaging way to approach her, but his mouth was already feeling like it was full of cotton.

He stole a glance at her as he took a step back. She was gorgeous in a very gentle way, and she had to have been at least five years younger than him. Her hair was shoulder length and she’d dyed the tips red, and though it was subtle, Gavin couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen such a fashionable yet sensible style. She was reading a book while she ate her bagel, and she hadn’t even looked up at him.

Books! He thought excitedly. There was a harmless subject that he could use as a segue into deeper conversation! But then, how annoying is it when people ask you what you’re reading while you're trying to read? He discarded the idea immediately and took yet another step back before wheeling around entirely and walking out.

Moments later, while sitting in his cubicle, he stared down at his plain bagel and pouted. He hadn’t even had enough courage to reach for the cream cheese, which had been sitting right next to her, and he took a bite of the plain, schmear-less bagel like he was accepting some sort of punishment, Well fuck me, he muttered as he chewed.

Later that evening, he shuffled into his apartment with a sour look on his face. His work day hadn’t been very productive since the bagel incident, and he hated himself for not being able to make a move.

He threw his things down and sat at his desk immediately. His laptop sat closed there, and he was about to open it when he saw the odd journal he’d bought a few days before.

Ever since he was a kid, Gavin had enjoyed keeping journals. He rarely went back to read them, but he found that, like many, putting his frustrations down on paper helped him cope. He pushed the laptop aside and grabbed his favorite felt tipped pen before opening the journal to the first blank page.

Tara O'Brien: why can’t I talk to her? What the hell is wrong with me? Every time I see her I freeze up. I’m thirty five fucking years old for god’s sake, not fourteen! The thing that upsets me the most is that I know if I introduce myself, I won’t have anything interesting to say to her, so not only will I ruin her first impression of me, but I will also have made a royal ass of myself. What do you think, Journal? Do you think I’m being petty and stupid? I know I’m being petty and stupid! I just can’t seem to stop myself. I wish I wasn’t such a coward, but really, in the end, there’s no way that a woman like that would want to be with a guy like me.

A part of me wishes that she’d just come up to me and introduce herself. I know that’s not a very manly thought, but at least she could break the ice for me! Isn’t it normal to want to meet your new coworkers? I wish she’d just come up to my cube and say, Excuse me, but, my name is Tara O'Brien and I’m the new journalist.

I know that’s wishful thinking, but if that happened, I might be able to find some sort of excuse to talk to her, maybe ask her for some input on something. She probably has a boyfriend. I didn’t see a ring on her finger. Who knows? In any case, I’m done being a fuckin’ nutcase and I’m going to close this and make myself some dinner. Goodnight journal.

Gavin closed the leather bound journal and stood abruptly before tossing the pen down and meandering into the kitchen.

As far as speed goes, we’ll see if XNG’s projected clocks can compete with the already blazing fast Noctur series GPU.

Gavin blinked at the screen as he hit the backspace bar a few times and added a bit of text. He was helping someone from a different department edit a tech article about some new GPU, and though he didn’t know the specifics, he was trying not to read it too closely because he knew that he would have been able to do a better job.

Um, excuse me, but...

Gavin’s concentration broke as he mumbled, Yeah, wh… he turned in his chair and saw Tara peeking into his cubicle, I mean, h,hi, he almost choked.

Tara chuckled and shook her head before thrusting out her hand awkwardly, My name is Tara O'Brien and I’m the new journalist.

Gavin wasn’t sure which plane of reality he’d landed on, but he hoped dearly that he wasn’t acting as clumsy as he felt while he shook her hand, Yeah… I mean, nice to meet you: Gavin Zellinger.

Tara’s handshake was a little firmer than he’d anticipated, but she drew back a bit quickly, Yeah, I know who you are: I read your stuff all the time...it’s great.

Gavin had barely managed to recover from his shock at turning and seeing the woman he’d been pining for so suddenly, Oh, that’s… you’re too kind. I’ve read some of your stuff too; I particularly like your satire series.

That was a lie: he hadn’t just read some of her stuff, he’d read all of it.

Oh, well it seems we both like the thing that the other hates the most, she chuckled.

Her laugh was musical, and he tried to suppress his goofy smile, So, what can I do for you?

Nothing, she said, again too quickly before smiling nervously. I mean, not nothing, I just realized this morning when I came in that I hadn’t introduced myself to everyone and that must seem terribly rude, so I’m making my rounds. I hope you didn’t take offense; I’m sort of shy and it takes me a while to warm up to a new job.

Gavin waved his hand in a very uncharacteristic way, Psh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind. How’re you liking it so far?

It’s honestly fantastic, Tara smiled widely. I’ve been reading articles from you and some others here for years, and I finally decided, what the hell, lemme put in an application and see if I can get a job there. It’s been a big adjustment; my audience went from a few thousand to a few hundred thousand almost overnight, but everyone here has been really helpful.

Gavin nodded, still amazed that he was not only sitting beside Tara, but actually talking to her, Yeah, it’s a great place to work. He paused and kept a frown at bay and realized that he didn’t have anything else to say, I’ll uh, let you get back to introducing yourself to everyone, but hey… if you ever need help with editing or just want an extra pair of eyes on something, let me know: I’ve kind of been branded ‘that guy’ around here, he added with a chuckle that didn’t sound too convincing.

I appreciate that, but you should be careful because I might take you up on the offer, Tara laughed, I hope we can work together soon; pleasure meeting you.

The pleasure’s mine, he nodded to her before spinning back around awkwardly and staring wide eyed at his computer screen.

What the hell was that? He murmured in disbelief, his eyes still wide.

A coincidence. It had to be. Those were the two incomplete sentences that ran through Gavin’s mind all day before he raced home and pulled out his keys nervously. He didn’t even bother setting his things down as he slammed the door and grabbed up the journal. He flipped open the binding and read through the garbage he’d written until his eyes settled upon the sentence he’d been looking for, Excuse me, but… my name is Tara O'Brien and I’m the new journalist, he muttered the words slowly as a cold shiver ran down his spine.

Exactly what she said to me... he shook his head slowly as his stomach knotted. He set the journal down and took a deep breath before he began to laugh, Come on, Gav, get it together! He walked to the fridge and pulled out a can of beer, then he popped the tab and slumped down on the couch. He clicked on the TV before drinking about half the beer in one go, then he sighed slowly and chuckled, Pure and utter coincidence, he said, but as he glanced over at the journal.

Several more days passed and Gavin didn’t even try to talk to Tara. He hadn’t written in the journal either, but he’d given himself several excuses as to why. He knew why, of course: he was feeling more than just a little spooked by what had happened, and though he felt juvenile for avoiding it, it was easier to pretend like it never happened.

The following weekend, he was tired of feeling scared, and he sat in front of the journal and opened it slowly before taking up his pen.

Okay, let’s be logical about this, he said aloud as he talked himself through it. If this book really has some sort of mystical, magical power, then I should be able to test it out somehow.

As he finished his thought, he noticed that there was something different about his handwriting, and he looked down at it carefully before another chill came over him.

Nothing of what he’d written had changed, but his handwriting looked almost bold and… stamped, as if it were printed onto the page rather than written. He took a breath to steady himself and looked at it more closely, and sure enough, it looked like he’d gone over the page with a typewriter instead of a pen.

Must be old paper or something... he shrugged it off with a quivering voice. Really, you can’t get all scared over something so stupid, he chastised himself. Okay, so, if I’m going to prove to myself that I’m just being a shut-in who’s married to his job and may be going through a midlife crisis, let’s see what we can do. He took up his pen and eased it over the next page before biting his lip and starting.

Hello Journal. I’m trying to prove to myself that I’m having a midlife crisis and that you’re not mystical in any way, so we’re going to do an experiment. Tomorrow, Tara is going to send me an email asking me for help with one of her projects.

He paused, That could reasonably happen, he mused aloud to himself before continuing with the ink.

She’s going to ask if I want to meet for coffee at Ana’s cafe, and she’s going to accidentally spill something on herself.

He paused once more. All of those things happening consecutively would have been miraculous in of itself, but Gavin was a man who didn’t like to take chances. When we’re talking, she’s going to call me by my middle name once.

He looked down at what he’d written and nodded as he smiled foolishly, There, see if you can handle that.

-The Following Morning-

Shit, Gavin said flatly as he looked down at his phone and read Tara’s email.

It seemed that she wanted his help with a piece after all, and she’d left him her phone number.

Gavin’s hands trembled as he texted her, "It