Plot Police Raid

I’m in the zone. I know just what needs to happen in this particular scene, and it’s practically writing itself. As I type away with a satisfied grin on my face, the Plot Police burst through the door and stop me dead in my celebratory tracks.

“Halt! Hold it right there!” the tall, handsome one orders. “We’re the Plot Police, here on behalf of your readers. Take your hands away from the keyboard – slowly.”

“What’s the problem, officer?” I smile at him as my brain names him Officer Hot, but he’s all business. “It’s a great scene! It’s an awesome scene!”

“Let me stop you right there, ma’am.” The short, pudgy one (Officer Not) smells like Dunkin’ Donuts. “You can’t say that! You can’t describe that beautiful locket. Not there, anyway.”

“Why not? It’s a beautiful description.”

“Why not?” Officer Hot points at the screen and explains. “Because you have your character wearing something her lover hasn’t given her yet.”

My mouth drops open. “May I scroll, Officer?” They nod, and I go back to the beginning of the chapter. “Oh, I see what you’re saying.”

“You’ll need to do a page break immediately, then a cut and paste on a blank page if you want to use it later.” Officer Hot is wearing some wonderful, distracting cologne. Too bad my story is set in the Medieval time period. Still, there must be some good scent that I can use . . .. “Are you listening, ma’am?” I wish he wouldn’t call me that. It makes me sound old.

“Yes, officer. Page break, cut, and paste. I’ll do it right away.” I turn in my seat and look into his dark, brooding eyes. “Is that all?”

“For now.” Officer Not puffs out his chest and brushes donut sprinkles from his uniform.

“We feel obligated to warn you that we’ll be watching you throughout the pregnancy chapters. Who knows, who doesn’t, where your character is going and who she’s talking to.”

Officer Hot turns down his squawking radio. “We want to be sure she doesn’t tell anyone before she knows herself that she’s pregnant. Or, start knitting blankets and bonnets too soon.”

Officer Not clears his throat louder than he needs to get my attention. “We’ll also be watching to see how and when the father finds out. Routine stuff.” With an authoritative sniff, he nods his head to Officer Hot, indicating that they should leave.

“Thank you, officers, for stopping by and helping me out. My readers will be grateful that a potential disaster has been averted.”

“Just doin’ our job, ma’am,” Officer Hot says. I force my cringe into a smile as I hold my folded hands in my lap.

“So, I can get back to my story?”

“Carry on, ma’am.”

As they leave, I overhear Officer Not whisper, “That was a close one.”

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