This is a Class-Act... In Writing Advice

“There!” Kaoru’s voice erupted—overpowering the sound of the movie. At the time she had a massive bite of burger in her mouth which sprayed out with her yell. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Her mouth is still full. “Ocean having a whole conversation with Rusty without Rusty saying a word. It’s so campy but you know, it’s like— Mmm— hold on.” She finished chewing. “It makes you feel like you’re in there, nothing else matters but this silly scene.”

Unlike my uncivilized companion, because I had food in my mouth, I simply nodded along.

“Don’t you feel it too?” She tilted her towards me.

We sat on the floor of my room with our backs pressed against my bed. The position was a bit uncomfortable I’ll admit, but I took a hard-line stance of no eating on the bed… A man’s gotta put his foot down at least once… or something.

It felt as if the entire world around us was enveloped in darkness—blinds shut, lights off. Our backs bordered on the unknown darkness of my room behind us. How we sat—side-by-side—only the fronts of our bodies illuminated by the flashing lights of the television. It felt as if we were the only two people in the world.

With that idea in mind, while Kaoru was glued to the screen with a burger the size of her head in hand, I had a hard time concentrating. Was it my appetite? Was I not hungry so I couldn’t enjoy my dinner like her? No, quite the opposite. Was it the movie? Do I not like Ocean’s Eleven? Not as much as her, but it’s a pretty decent movie.

I’d say my inability to immerse myself in the movie came from Kaoru’s new found sense of comfortability in the Kiyotaka residence… By new found I mean as of the start of this movie, she felt it wasn’t necessary anymore to be very presentable. Which could be saying something given she already wasn’t someone who cared about her outward appearance around me.

Kaoru’s outfit was something you’d wear if you were sick at home for a week straight and had given up. The kind that’d only be appropriate if it were one-hundred five degrees in mid August. She wore a white tank top that left no imaginative liberties to my eyes and shorts that I’m fairly certain were Sayuri’s…

I peaked at her from the corner of my eye, she was far too engrossed by what Brad Pitt was saying to notice. Looking at her closely like this I can’t help notice all the old-man mannerisms she has—despite her big personalitie …s. Her tank top had a bit of her burger on it and grease stains. I think they call this a “striking image of a true Japanese beauty” in Light Novels.

“There! There!” Kaoru shouted. Her exclamation was followed by her knocking into and pressing-up against me. “You see what I mean about this movie now, right?”

“Y-y-yes, y-you’ve made your point.” I nudged Kaoru away while trying to touch her as little as possible.

I know I know it sounds like I’m super conscious of her bod— her being near me, but that’s not the case. I think what I’m feeling is heat-sympathy, a term I coined just now. She’s clearly over heated, hence why she isn’t wearing a shirt— ahem—

“O-oh, the fan, it’s probably pretty hot in here. I’ll go uh, switch the ceiling fan on.” I scooted away from her then scrambled for the fan’s on-switch by my door.

“Makoto!” I swiveled my head around back towards her—my friend was now sprawled out on the floor occupying where I once sat. “I understand it now! I know what feels wrong!”

“You finally realized how much weight you’ve put on?” I didn’t even expect her to hear that off-comment, but I got that and more. A quarter of a burger thrown at me and a massive sticky red-and-yellow stain. “Thanks…”

She folded her arms under her chest. “You shouldn’t make comments like that towards a lady.”
You barely qualify… whatever. “What did you realize, Kaoru?”

“At the start Danny Ocean wanted to do the heist under the guise of money, tricking everyone except Rusty. Rusty digs it out of him that the heist has been about his ex-wife this whole time who married the casino owner he’s trying to rob. Because of that Matt Daemon has to take on blah blah blah blah blah— blah blah blah— blah… blah blah… blah blah blah blah blah blah blah— blah blah blah— blah… blah blah… blah blah blah blah blah blah blah— blah blah blah— blah… blah blah… blah blah blah blah blah blah blah— blah blah blah— blah… blah blah… blah blah.”

“I-I’m not following… that’s just the plot of Ocean’s Eleven…”

“Yeah, but that’s not what I’m gettin’ at. It’s the issue with our book.” She sat up and patted the floor next to her. Usually in light novels when this exact scenario happens it's a girl, admittedly with blonde hair, who sits perfectly on her feet just like a heroine, hands folded in lap… a soft smile… a secret deep rooted care for the protagonist! And she tenderly pats the floor and you sit next her… Then you rest your head in her lap… When's it my turn!? I guess she ticks one of the boxes.

My heroine wiped her greasy burger-hands on her tank top and grabbed the T.V remote. “Everything in Ocean’s Eleven is connected, things happen because they have to in a way. Logically at least it makes sense.”

“What? That makes no sense. Everything happens because the writers made it so.”

Kaoru snapped her fingers a few times. “Right there, that’s the issue, Makoto. Let’s say Suzuki-san feels A, which causes her to do B, which causes Tanaka-san to do C which effects Suzuki-san, causing her and Tanaka-san to do D, which makes Yamada-san do E, which in turn lets Tanaka-san know F—” She took in a few sharp breathes. “Do you see what I’m gettin’ at?”

“We’re just going in circles, Kaoru…” I took a few quick steps over to her and sat a few feet away. Clearly she didn’t pick up on my message of wanting some space as she scootched right up-next to me.

“No-no-no, I’m explaining it, you’re not understanding.”

My brain felt hot… not like it was hot in the room or because of how Kaoru was dressed. It was an unpleasant friction, it was right there, the answer that is… I just— I just can’t understand it. My brain has never done thinking like this before, new gears are being installed and turning for the first time, still ungreased and resistant to spinning.

“Makoto… you’re… you’re eye. It’s turning red. Are you okay? D-do you need to lay down?” Kaoru said, meekly raising a finger in my direction.

“N-no… I, I got this! You’re saying that… because in Ocean’s Eleven— hrrrr— it’s— Danny Ocean… Uhm.” I pulled at the hair on my head. Come on! Think! A short sigh came from Kaoru. It felt condescending, was it condescending? Is she just mocking me because she knows I can’t write? Well she’s wrong! I can! “I can write, Kaoru! I know I can!”

“I know, I know. I know you can write, (!!) Makoto. Do you want me to explain what I mean now? It looks like you’re about to hurt yourself.”

“Say that again?”

“Say what again? It looks like you’re about to hurt yourself?” She slightly tilted her head.

“Nevermind… Sure… I concede.” I released my tight grip on my hair and waddled over to Kaoru—defeated.

“You’re talkin’ like you lost a battle just now. Writing isn’t about that dude, writing this book isn’t a contest against me.” She side-eyed me.

“I-I know that of course. G-go on though.” I tried to not sound utterly deflated, but clearly Kaoru saw through me as she shook her head. I shouldn’t sound deflated, she's right unfortunately. Why is it unfortunate? Shouldn’t it be a good thing?

While I contemplated the deep question about if it’s good or bad that Kaoru knew more about writing than me, she slowly reached for my burger. That’s why. That’s why my brain thinks it’s a bad thing. It’s like I’m being out-brained by The Dude.

“The story feels off because the events don’t feel genuine in the context of the story—” Woah, she said something kinda smart. “Stuff happens in the story as: and then, and then, and then, never: this happened because of these reasons. So it makes the plot feel like… superficial.”

“T-that’s so simple, what?” I said. “Of course I made sure of that, it’s just how you write a story.”

“Makoto…” Kaoru said flatly, lowering her eyebrows. “Why would I be telling you this if it wasn’t the issue?”

“...A neat fact?”

“Haaa… The issue really isn’t multiple authors, that works just fine, look at any writing for a movie or T.V show. The issue is you outlined a plot using Fujioka-senpai’s template with just events—so we’ve basically been writing a long series of events with no emotions connecting them.”