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Annabeth + Applejaxc
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Applejaxc
(last edited Mar 03, 2015 05:10PM)
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Mar 03, 2015 05:09PM

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In short, he wrote some stuff about Iraq/Afghanistan/whatever that was good enough to launch his career, but since then he kind of sucks.



The sheer density of college students living in or near the city and the freedom attached to winter break afforded the event a considerable turnout of the young and old. Diagonal Theodore's booth, an aspiring young author was basking the praise of vulnerable teenagers, well moved by whatever sap love story she'd written. He rolled his eyes in disgust, then in jealousy as they fell on the stack of signed copies of Starbomb: From Darkness, his most recent "accomplishment." His producer, seeing Theodore's expression, shrugged. "Maybe the sci-fi crowd just isn't here yet." But plenty of trekkies and Jedis and ewoks had passed without so much at pausing. His career was in the dumpster and they both knew it.




"Maybe they aren't glaring at you; the lights in here are pretty strong. What if it's just harmless squinting?"
"The last three people asked me why I ripped off Han Solo for my protagonist, one thought I actually was George Lucas for whatever reason, and I think the author of The Brownstones called me a sell-out twice today. I'm fairly confident I have plenty of reason to assume the several shady sideways glances are at least spiteful and the rather hamfisted glaring is intentional."
Theodore and his manager bickered back and forth until, finally, a throng of people who at least smiled like fans stopped. None of them carried a copy from the Starbomb Saga, Theodore was quick to note, but one did have the printed cover of the only thing he'd ever turned a profit on: There and Back Again.
Theodore winced; his manager gave the crowd a smile and exercised his flair for showmanship. Theodore started taking questions from everyone but the undergraduate standing directly in front of him.
"Mr. Ackabecker, is it true Chewbacca was your inspiration for the Carpet Monster in Carla's Carpet Monster Caper?" As it was something he had written under the penname T. Alswell, and actually had been quite proud of at completion, he sat up in his chair to answer a definite no. "While Starwars has certainly permeated many facets of Western popular culture, my inspiration was actually the great dane my mother once-"
"Then why does it say on.... page 123, fourth paragraph, '...it was not unlike the greatly-haired companion of the last great bounty hunter'?"
"That was an allusion to one of Alswell's other titles-"
"So you referenced yourself?"
"I... yes, I suppose so."
"Well. That's a bit... pretentious, isn't it?"
Theodore deflated; he closed his eyes and rubbed his face, then took another swig. "Maybe it is. Any other questions?"
The undergrad, resolute, raised his hand, but Theodore again chose someone else as part of the crowd broke off. "Ah, yes. I have a question about the ending of Starbomb: Into Darkness. When they fly into the black hole? Isn't that... like... the exact ending of Star Trek: Into Darkness?"
"Science fiction has always had a fascination with black holes, hasn't it? It's a subject I wanted to explore. It's entirely coincidental that movie released the year before S-Bid did."
"So, yes, then." More of the crowd left, leaving only Ackabecker, his Producer, and the student holding his first novel. Most of the panelists, by then, had left for early dinners before the evening events.


In what articles and editorials that called out Theodore Ackabecker as the most blatant plagiarism of the generation, the only saving grace any included was There and Back Again. Some called him selfish for not trying to repeat the heart-warming genius; some called him a war-glorifying monster who stole the stories of service members greater than he would ever hope to be. Theodore's own opinion was that the book should be left in his past and when his advertising deals were over he was cashing out of the industry altogether.
"Mr. Ackabecker, this book is an inspiration." The man put the book on the table; when he did, it pulled his sleeve up just long enough to reveal a spade tattoo on the man's wrist. (Scratch that I called him an undergrad earlier) Theodore sat back; Bernie (his Producer) saw the subtle lip movement that betrayed recognition and raised an arm to escort the fan away, but the man shook his head. "I'm not mad at you, don't worry."
There and Back Again was a novelization of the experiences of service members since 1991. His portrayal of the Special Forces community came across as insultingly dramatized and there had been past incidents of PTSD victims threatening him. "I just wanted to say that in Starbomb, I can see how your interviews inspired a lot of your characters."
"I... yeah, yeah." Theodore was taken aback; no one had seen the connection between real heroes and his fictional ones. "Like, the commander of the Tsung-Ki-Shek, he's the Ranger motto incarnate. It's too bad you can't lead the way right to him, huh?"
"Yeah well, that's the risk writing fiction, isn't it? We never get to meet our heroes." (boom, foreshadowing)
Theodore signed the man's book but it hardly improved his mood. He kept a smile until the man was out of sight but sunk once more, arms across his table. "Maybe you should mingle with the other writers?" Bernie suggested. "Penguin (his publishing company) doesn't send writers to Idaho to pout for three days."

Aria turned to her friend Clara and said, "I am going to take a break and walk around. I have been sitting for too long and need to stretch and find some food." She said up and fixed her dress before getting out from behind her table and slowly walking around at the other authors books. There was such a large variety of genres and publishers that she felt surprised that so many had liked her book when they had so many choices. She continued walking until she found an area that had some food where she had some and sat down. Aria started to eat slowly staring at nothing in particular.

Theodore eventually pushed himself out of his seat. "But they do pay for me to eat, don't they?"
"You were very particular about that in your contract."
"Damn right."
Outside the convention hall a number of overpriced, mall food-type kiosks operated. Theodore decided on Taco Bell while Bernie eloped with a classier taste. When Theodore made it back inside, he found his table folded, being marched away. "H-hey! I've still got... stuff to... no I don't. I've got a Taco Supreme and somewhere better to be." He didn't bother trying to stop the convention workers that were removing his booth; he didn't even question why anyone would be that rude. He simply plopped himself down with indignation (coincidentally adjacent to Aria) and opened his bag with a huff.

Aria would unconsciously take bites of her chinese food while she was sitting there. She then decided to take out the book that she had with her and she started to read while she ate. A few moments later she looked up when she saw a man sit down on the seat in front of her. She saw him take out his food from Taco Bell and start to eat it. Aria kept eating her chinese food and went back to staring out into space not knowing if she should start a conversation since the man seemed to be a little angry. After a few minutes of arguing internally she said, "Hey, I'm Aria Blackwood."




She looked up surprised when Theodore began to talk to her. Aria heard him talk about her turnout and said, "Yes, I did. I hadn't expected that many to come for my first and only book." She smiled at him at the mention of her success because she was still so happy about it herself.














Theodore shrugged. "It got packed up, I guess."
"'Packed up?' Do they know who you are? You have-"
Theodore shrugged again. "Can't we hang out at the hotel for a bit, then call Penguin and say we did all the events?"
"Won't your fans be disappointed?"
"Don't patronize me, Bernie." Theodore rose and disposed of his refuse. "You can at least walk the floor. Meet some new people. Mingle. Stop being a sourpuss?"

"Hey Clara. Has it been like this the whole time that I was gone?" She asked her friend while starting to sign the people's books.
"Yeah, right after you left a whole group came over and was wondering where you were. I told them that you would be back in a few minutes," Clara said.
"I came back as soon as I finished eating and talking to Theodore"
"Who is Theodore?" she asked back confused.
"Another author," Aria answered back quickly and then stopped talking to try to sign.

"'Hack?'" Bernie asked as Theodore made a grandiose gesture.
"Yes. A hack. She's a romance novelist, no doubt of the bottom-scraping caliber! Shirtless, long-haired European on a horse-romance with a paperthin dud of a female 'lead' formless so far as to allow any woman to assume the role. A novelization of the worst of what country-love songs have to offer, no doubt."
"...have you read anything she's written?"
"I..." Theodore blustered. "That's besides the point. It is always safe to assume. At least my stories are realistic."
"...like when you based the second act of Starbomb: Substation Sierra on Stephen Hawking's disproven black hole theory?"
"Smart-ass. We both know that wasn't disproven until months after."
"Still. What if her book is actually full of endearing, heart-felt caricatures of every-day people in a masterpiece blend of romantic subgenres?"
"She wouldn't be surrounded by teenage women."

"Theodore was the author on the other side of the hall. He had written a science fiction novel."
"I didn't see anyone there," Clara said.
"I know maybe it wasn't as successful as his other novels but I'm sure that it was still good."
"Do you even like sci-fi novels?"
"Not particularly," Aria said slowly, "but either way he seemed like a good author."
"I don't know why you have to be so sure of everyone you meet when you have know idea of who they are or what they wrote about," Clara said exasperated.

"...and don't get me started on Harry Potter. It may have been written by a homeless woman, but its plot holes shouldn't be enjoyed by so goddamn many adults. It's an early teen read, sure, but it shouldn't be as tragically popular as it is. It's the least adventurous example of a genre defying undersell in the last decade. She could have written about so many fantasy elements. Instead she had ghosts and a flying horse. Bravo."
"Maybe an author doesn't have to push every corner to be good?"
"And that is where we diverge, Bernie." Theodore looked at his phone to check the time. There was a message from his mother but he ignored it. "The grab-ass shows are about to start. They'll close the convention floor in a few minutes. Can we please go back to the hotel?"
"You may. But I quite look forward to some of the exhibits."
In a building across the street movie trailers and seminars would be held until midnight.
(And something happens in the street so don't write past it please)

Aria had run out of books and at this point there was no more people to come and want their books signed. She turned around to Clara exhausted.
"Ready to pack up and get ready for the shows?"
"Yeah, we'll fold up the table and give it to them to put away," Clara sad.
Aria got up and felt her legs tingle as the blood rushed back to them since she had been sitting for so long. They folded up the table and put it against the wall. Then Aria and Clara started to walk to where the shows would start.
"Only a little bit longer until we go back to the hotel," Aria said looking forward to lying down.
