This (isn't) Carribean Food

“Makoto-kun.”

“W-wha? Hm?”

A stern voice had interrupted my dozing off. I rapidly blinked a few times and adjusted my glasses. I glanced at the bottom right corner of my laptop. The date and time displayed: 6:00 PM — Tuesday.

I looked up and it was who I suspected that woke me up—Fujioka. She was staring me down with a cold glare. Did I do something wrong?

“It’s becoming very late Makoto-kun, and seeing as you aren’t getting any work done, it’s best if you return home.”

“Mmm… you’re probably right…”

“Speaking of your progress, how is it?”

I raised an eyebrow in suspicion, was she honestly curious? Or was there an ulterior motive…?

“And yes, I’m simply wondering," She added on.

“Stop reading my mind.” I broke up my sentence with a sigh. “Progress is… not going. I’ve only gotten a few key scenes outlined but nothing connecting them.”

“Hm, I see… What are you exactly struggling with? Lack of inherent creativity and talent? Or simple unintelligence?”

I wish I had the balls to throw books at Fujioka.

“I’m having a hard time figuring out the timeline of volume one… I don’t know where I want Suzuki-san to end up or accomplish, you know?”

“I see… This is indeed very different from illustrating, but still no challenge for me.”

Fujioka, in a few graceful movements, sat next to me. I’ve been close to her like this plenty of times, yet it always catches me off guard how nice she smells. It’s a sweet and inviting aroma that lingers in the air—unfortunately for most, they’re usually never allowed close enough to take it in.

“Ah, your issue is very easy to see. Your outline is jumbled, it’s a mess of scenes with no clear idea of the narrative. A very elementary way of doing it.

She had turned my laptop towards her and was scrolling through the document.

“O-okay… so how do I uh— fix it?”

“I believe the optimal solution for you is ditching freely writing and committing to a strict outline.”
“Seriously? I’ve heard so much that letting yourself just… write, is the best thing you can do.”

“No! Those people are simpleminded and mistaken.”

“Okay-okay, you’ve made yourself clear. So how do I create this, “strict outline”?”

Fujioka pulled my laptop in closer and hunched over slightly. Her typing speed started off slow, as she continued though, her finger’s speed increased more and more. At a point so quick it was almost blurry.

If she can write like a demon I can’t imagine her drawing!

“Ah— Fujioka-san, please don’t break my keyboard… heh…”

No response came from her, she was too deep in the zone for her own good. It took a few minutes until she straightened her posture and spun the laptop back towards me.

“This—this is incredible!”

“Of course it is, doing something like an outline for an amateur's fiction is nothing for me.”

“There was no need to sneak in that insult… regardless though, thanks.”

What she had done was outline a four act basic flow outline for my first volume. I’ll save you all the small details for the subpoints, but the four main headers were:

Act One: Suzuki-san Introduced to a key character/love interest & introduction to music club

Act Two: Building relationships with the main cast, ideas of a goal

Act Three: Getting in a routine, developing relationships, setting a goal, set backs

Act Four: Ideas of resolution, routine, set up for future, developments with main cast/love interest

Under each of the main acts were sub points suggesting scenes, as well as indicating when using callbacks would be most effective and when inserting foreshadowing would best stimulate the reader’s reactions. It also included timing for key moments and when they’d have the greatest impact. It worked, and it was great, but… it felt too corporate, too formulaic.

I’ll go with it I suppose. Actually, except for one thing.

“Hey, Fujioka-san.”

“Yes?”

“Under act three, what’s this section “introduction of rival love interest or antagonistic archetype”?

“Isn’t it clear? It’s exactly what the label says.”

“I get that. What I’m referencing is the subpoints.” I clear my throat and read her text verbatim. “The optimal way to do this would be a blonde rival character, preferably as a love interest/homewrecker. He will act as a catalyst that forces Suzuki to begin to understand her feelings towards other band members/love interests. He should be referred to as “the blonde devil” and is generally a bumbling idiot, also being someone whose parents don’t particularly like them.”

“I felt I was extremely clear in my explanation.”

Fujioka crossed her legs and folded her arms under her chest

“Haa~ You know I can’t include this, right?”

“There’s a reason you don’t succeed with writing, you’re adverse to genius ideas.”

“Real genius, yeah.”

If you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm. I only say this because Fujioka wasn’t aware and beamed a massive grin as if I was praising her.

***

“I’m home—” I called out as I stepped into my apartment,

A distant “Welcome back” came from my mother, presumably in the kitchen. A bit unusual honestly, as she’s someone who often works late.

I enter the kitchen—well it’s not really entering, as everything’s one big room. Anyway, I joined my mom in the kitchen. She’s clad in her white apron diligently cutting up pork on a blue cutting-board.

“Why’re you home so early?” I asked.

“I could ask you the same, why so late? You’re usually finished with club activities at 6:30, it’s almost 8:00.”

“Ah, I slept for the first two hours.” I admitted bluntly, prompting a disapproving expression from my mother. “I got a lot done today though. Fujioka-san helped me with an outline.”

Her expression softened.

“Oh, that’s wonderful to hear… I’m home early because I promised Sayuri I’d watch Buccaneer’s of the Southern Gulf of Mexico with her tonight. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

“Sure, of course.” I peeked over her shoulder. “What’re you making?”

“Chilorio Tacos!”

“Mexican food…?”

“Mhm!”

“Just craving it or…?”

“Well we’re watching a movie set in Mexico tonight so I thought it’d fit the mood.”
“...Mom.”

“Hm?”

Ahhhh she’s so innocent sometimes! I can’t break her heart!

“Sounds like a great idea mom.”

I left my mom to continue her cooking and strolled to my room. From down the hall, shouting could be heard. Of course, I’m not allowed to have peace and quiet there after a long day of school.