"That's about all I could do," said Dan, sliding a packet of papers across the table.
The young man sitting opposite to him took the packet, leafed through it. Dan sipped his coffee and waited.
"I can't read this," said the young man after a few minutes, pointing at a hand-written mark on the page.
"Which one?" asked Dan.
The young man pointed.
"Oh," said Dan. "I can't tell what you're referring to in this sentence." He took out his pen.
He marked more clearly on the page what his hand-written note meant.
“So what does it mean,” said Dan.
The young man asked what Dan meant.
“That sentence,” he said.
The young man looked uncomfortable and said he wasn’t sure.
“Okay,” said Dan. “I would talk the paper over with someone, someone who knows the material. When you can explain it to them in person, then write it down.”
"Write what down?" said the young man.
"However you can explain it out loud," said Dan. "If it makes sense when you explain it, that’s what you should write."
The young man seemed to consider this, and frowned.
"That won't work," he said.
"Why not?" said Dan, seeming surprised.
"It doesn't sound as good when you say it out loud," he said. "It sounds dumb."
"Well write it down once,” said Dan, “then write it over and over until it sounds smart. You've got time, don't you?"
"A little," the young man said warily.
"Do you have a thesaurus?" asked Dan.
"No," said the young man.
"Do you have the internet?" asked Dan
The young man looked baffled. "Of course," he said.
"Then you have a thesaurus," said Dan. "Try it if you can't figure out how to make what you said sound smart."
"How do I know what to--" the young man began. He was interrupted by the arrival of Ben, who strode up to the table and eyed with a sigh the pair of crutches leaning against the side of the booth Dan was sitting in.
"It's alright," said Dan. "This is the other guy."
"What?" said Ben. "Who says? You're the other guy."
"Ho boy," said Dan. He turned back to the young man sitting opposite him as Ben moved the crutches aside and slid into the booth beside Dan.
"You were asking me something?" Dan said.
"How do I know what words to use the thesaurus on?" asked the young man.
"The ones that sound dumb," said Dan.
The young man continued to leaf through the packet.
Ben flagged down the waitress and ordered a coffee.
As he read, the young man's cheeks reddened, then returned to normal. At last he looked up.
"How much?" he said.
Dan told him.
"That's not what you said before," said the young man.
"I told you roughly what it would be," said Dan.
"You didn't even fix it," said the young man.
"I don't rewrite," said Dan. "I just advise."
He named a lower figure.
"I'll pay what you said before," said the young man.
Dan reached out and pulled the packet back to him.
The young man made a sour face and pulled crumpled bills from his jacket pocket.
Dan exchanged them for the packet, and the young man left.
"Ready to switch?" Dan said.
The waitress appeared with coffee.
"Sure," said Ben.
Dan gestured. "Two beers please," he said.
The waitress sighed, put down the coffee, and walked off towards the bar.
Ben turned to Dan. "Do you mind?" he asked.
Dan looked at Ben.
"This is my side," he said.
"I'm injured!" said Dan.
"You've got a minor sprain," said Ben.
"Which you caused," said Dan.
“I did not,” said Ben.
“It happened,” said Dan, “because of what you said.”
"I said try taking a walk," said Ben. "Not go fall down hard."
"I wouldn't have fallen down," said Dan, "if I'd stayed home and watched TV."
"It happened two weeks ago," said Ben.
"And it's still hurting," said Dan.
"Everybody knows you can get around without those things," said Ben. "And it's my side of the booth."
Dan sighed and scowled. Ben didn't flinch. Dan scrambled and rose, hobbled elaborately to the other side of the booth and sat again.
The waitress returned with the beers. Ben thanked her.
"You're starting early," said Ben, gesturing with his head to indicate the young man who'd left.
"Thesis review," said Dan. "Early draft. He's not defending until next year sometime, I'd guess."
"That kid is on his thesis?" asked Ben.
Dan shook his head. "Proxy," he said. "That's why he didn't want to pay higher than the estimate; the guy who really wrote that's probably on vacation somewhere expensive until the term starts in a few weeks."
"He seemed pretty worked up if it wasn't his paper," said Ben. "I saw him turn red."
"I put a note in there to get his attention," said Dan. "I think it worked."
"What was the note," said Ben.
"His boss's name," said Dan.
"You know him?" asked Ben.
"I know the writing," said Dan. “It was a guess.”
Ben pursed his lips and nodded. “I guess you were right,” he said.
Ben did not inquire after, and Dan did not offer to reveal, the name of the young man or the person whose paper he was ferrying. It was a matter of professional discretion.
They sipped beer. Ben alternated with his coffee.
"How's the new project," said Ben.
Dan grimaced. Ben didn't comment.
"It's actually okay," Dan said after a moment.
"Stalled?" asked Ben.
"Not really," said Dan. "But I've got a new idea and it's eating up my time."
Ben nodded.
"How's the ancient elephants?" asked Dan.
"Amebelodons," said Ben, suppressing a pleased smile.
"Right, those," said Dan. "Still tromping around? Or are you onto something else?"
Ben shrugged, finished his beer.
"Stalled," he said.
Dan looked surpised.
"You said yesterday you'd done what, two thousand words?" said Dan. "In one sitting?"
Ben shrugged.
"That's stalled?" asked Dan.
Ben shrugged again.
Dan scowled. "Speak," he said.
"I'm not really happy with it," said Ben. "I'm not sure it's working."
"Two thousand words doesn't sound like not working," said Dan.
"It's not about how many words," said Ben. "It's about which words. And I think they're wrong."
"How so," said Dan, who on an average day would kill for the undivided attention needed for two thousand words.
"I think I'm just stalling," said Ben. "The story isn't moving forward, it's just circling."
"Well what's going on?" asked Dan.
Ben told him about what he'd written most recently.
"So have him find the herd again," said Dan. "He swims across the river, he doesn't get eaten. His mom's there, she gives him a trunk-hug or whatever. Story over, roll credits, you can work on something else."
Ben frowned. "There's no build-up that way," he said. "It's like everything that's happened happened for no reason."
Dan said, "You're investing too much in it."
He guestured at the waitress, and she ignored him.
"Maybe," said Ben. "I just want it to be right. It's got such a strong beginning."
"When everything was new," said Dan with an ironic tone, "and everything was under your control?"
Ben shrugged. "I thought of that," he said. "I'm not sure that's it. It's probably partly that, but it's also... I don't know."
"You're the only person I know," said Dan, "who can get writer's block and still turn out two thousand words in a sitting."
Ben made a wry face. "Maybe," he said. "I'll keep at it, maybe I'll find the spark. Whatever doesn't fit I can cut out later."
"I wonder how much time we lose," said Dan, looking at the bar, "when we cut stuff out entirely."
"Instead of?" said Ben.
Dan looked at him. "Saving it somewhere, to use later."
Ben considered this. "It's possible," he said. "It would be confusing to me, I'd have too many associations with the old stuff to make anything new out of it."
Dan looked thoughtful. "You don't have problems with associations when you, what, 'draw inspiration' from other people's work."
"That's different," said Ben.
"You didn't discover the Elopodan, did you?" said Dan.
"Amebelodon," said Ben.
"Right, those," said Dan. "You didn't dig the first one up, did you?"
"I don't know the first thing about digging up bones," said Ben.
"Right," said Dan. "Other people's work, tons of associations."
"Yeah, but that's not me," said Ben. "The associations are useful, I get to see where they lead for me. Starting with my own old stuff, I'd just go in circles."
Dan gestured with his empty glass. Ben ignored him.
"Maybe you're on to something," he said presently.
"Might be worth a try," said Dan.
"Meanwhile," said Ben. "You're on to project seven."
Dan shook his head.
"Project two," he said, seeming pleased. "I got a new idea for it."
"So you're re-writing the beginning?" asked Ben.
Dan shook his head. "The middle, actually, I'm picking up where I left off for once."
Ben raised his eyebrows.
"How's that going?" he asked. "Did you reread th old surf first?"
Dan laughed. "God no," he said. "It's still awful."
"Well,'that's something anyway," said Ben.
He lifted his glass as if to toast, noticed it was empty.
Dan gestured again with his empty glass. Ben gestured at Ben in return, with the skill of imitation by long observation.
Dan frowned.
"The plight of the disabled is no laughing matter," he said.
"I agree completely," said Ben.
The waitress appeared at Ben's elbow.
"Need anything?" she asked.
"Could I have another of these please?" Ben asked, holding up his glass.
"But of course," said the waitress good-humoredly, taking the glass and heading for the bar.
"I'd like a beer too," Dan called to her receding back.
"Bars over here," she called.
Ben snickered.
"You want me to go get it myself,"'Dan said accusingly.
"It would probably get her back on your side," said Ben.
"Come on, man," said Dan moodily. "The line's a a mile long."
"I was about to go wait it out," said Ben, "when mine hostess so graciously obliged."
Dan, muttering and pretending to wince, got to his feet, got his crunches under him, and hobbled to the bar.
A moment later, the waitress returned with two beers. She stopped short and stared at Dan's empty seat. Ben pointed to the bar with his thumb, and when she looked her eyebrows shot up. She nodded approvingly as she set both beers down by Ben and slipped away.
Ben sipped his beer and thought a little, them drank some and thought some more. Glancing at the bar, he saw Dan's way was blocked by a wall of familiar shoulders. Ben chuckled and drank some more, finished the first beer, thought some more. He considered sinking the second.
Dan came back on one crutch, hobbling and carrying a tray on which were perched two glasses and a plastic tray of nachos.
"You're using the wrong crutch," Ben said.
Dan paused to looked down, but unfortunately did not stop his feet from moving.
The one with the air cast got caught on the over somehow, and as Ben started up too late to catch him over he went, nachos beans tray preceding him to the floor.
Ben, the waitress, and two people who had been sitting at the tables helped him up, made sure he was all right, got him a towel, and saw him safely stowed in he booth again.
Without comment, he took off his air cast, shoved it and the crutches aside, paid for his beers and nachos, tipped the waitress, and limping slightly with the cast and crutches he left.
A moment later he returned, sans limp, went to the bar, said a few words, and came to the booth carrying a other dish of nachos.
The waitress stopped by a moment later, with a fresh beer on the house.
"I was thinking,"'said Ben, helping himself to a nacho without comment, "about what you said before."
"Which?" asked Dan.
"About stalling,"'said Ben.
"Oh right, with your Amebelodons," said Dan.
"Ameb--" Ben started, then stopped himself. "Right, those. I was thinking that's not a bad way to put it."
"Thanks," said Dan, drinking beer.
"I mean," said Ben, "I've still got the story, I know where it is, I know where it's going, I just don't have the drive to get it there."
"You should tip the nose down," said Dan.
"Hm?" said Dan, setting down his beer.
"You said you feel like the plane is stalled,"'said Dan.
Ben blinked. "Actually I was thinking of a car, but go on."
"When a plane stalls," began Dan, "it's because it doesn't have enough forward momentum to keep generating lift."
"I'll have to take your word for it," said Ben flippantly.
Dan's expression sagged. "Hear me out, Mr. Long Walks."
"Point taken,"'said Ben, holding up a hand in apology. "Proceed maistro."
"My point is," said Dan, "when a pilot of a plane that's stalling wants to get back the forward momentum to regain lift, what does he do?"
"I believe your metaphor was," said Ben, "to dip down the nose."
"Exactly," said Dan. "Cut your altitude a little to get back some speed."
"How does his relate,"'said Ben, "to an ancient elephant who's lost his mother."
"I'm saying," said Dan, "things might be going too well for him to be interesting. You need to raise the stakes a little. Have something awful happen."
Ben considered this. While he considered, Dan kept talking.
"Tolkien was stalled for a long time, he says,"'said Dan, "by the side of Balin's tomb in Moria. And in he end, what happens next?"
"You said the T-word," said Ben, finishing his beer, "so we're talking about the hobbits the hobbits the hobbits the hobbits?"
"Cut it out," said Ben.
"So what happens next?" said Dan.
"Never read the books," said Ben, in the same tone he'd said it ninety-nine times before, "saw the movies when they came out."
"You have no soul," said Dan.
Ben shrugged.
"No accounting for taste," he said, and got up for more beer.
"So what happens next?" he said, coming back with two glasses. He slid one to Dan.
"A giant fire monster comes," said Dan, "and kills the only guy who rely knew what the were doing."
"Oh, right," said Ben. "But he came back right?"
"That's not the point," said Dan. "The point is he made something horrible happen, and it gave his story the edge back."
"I've tried reading it," said Ben, taking a drink, "and I'll dispute you on the edge thing. But in see your point: kill the hope to get the interest back."
"Right," said Dan.
Ben thought more. Dan drank beer. After a while Ben frowned.
"It doesn't fit with my plan," Ben said.
"We'll there you go," said Dan. "This is why I resist plans as much as possible."
Ben laughed and clapped a hand to his forehead.
"You have ten boxes," he said, "of old notes on Titans of Rebirth in your house. I've helped you move them twice!"
"One, it's Titans of Renewal," said Dan. "Two,'that's not the title anymore."
"Right," said Ben. "I keep forgetting."
"Three," said Dan, " notes aren't plans, they're just notes. They're just ideas. Just because in wrote them doesn't mean anything, I'm not one of the characters."
Ben shook his head.
"Every time I think I understand how you work," he said. "How's the ankle?"
"It smarts," said Dan.
"Come off it,"'said Ben. "It was two weeks ago."
Dan started laughing. "No," he said, "the other one hurts now."
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