Suspension

“I’m working on a new story,” said Dan.

“Oh?” said Ben, without looking up from the paper he was marking.

“It’s about an old man in the hospital,” said Dan.

“Seems probable so far,” said Ben.

“Thanks,” said Dan.  “Anyway, he’s been ill for some time, he knows he doesn’t have much longer.  He’s not really troubled by this.”

“Good for him,” said Ben.  “What is troubling him, then?”

Dan had a drink of beer.  “No one’s come to see him.  He’s got no one to talk to, he’s totally alone.”

At this, Ben looked up from his papers.  “I’m hoping that there’s an ‘until’ on the way.”

“Until,” Dan said, “he wakes up one morning and finds an old man, about his age, sitting in the chair beside his bed.  An old man with some odd but curious questions.”

“Uh huh,” said Ben.

Dan raised his eyebrows, half-shrugged, and drank more beer.

Ben bobbed his head back and forth a little before saying, “I’d keep reading it.”

“I’ve got to write it first,” said Dan.

“How much do you have done?” asked Ben.

“I think I’ve got it all,” said Dan, “but I haven’t written any of it down.”

“I don’t see how you can work like that,” said Ben.  “If I think all the way through something I’m writing I get too bored to go on.”

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation,” said Dan.  “You just have to write really quickly, while it’s still clearly a good idea, even to one’s self.”

“I like the surprises,” said Ben.

“So write while you’re still feeling surprised,” said Dan.

“I’m not sure I can,” said Ben.  “I work slowly.”

“So the old man’s visitor,” said Dan.  “He’s well-dressed, very soft spoken, clearly a man of the world.  But the old guy in the hospital bed’s never seen him before.  When he asks--”

“Wait wait,” said Ben holding up a hand.  “You’re not going to just tell me the rest, are you?”

Dan blinked.  “I wanted to see what you thought about it,” he said.

“I’ll let you know when I read it,” said Ben.

“You can read it too,” said Dan.  “But I wanted to see what you thought of the idea before I write it down.”

“Why?” said Ben.

Dan shrugged again.  “It’s hard to say.  I feel like I waste time doing the first draft, I know I’m just going to change it anyway, especially after you’re through reading it.  So I thought maybe if I told you the idea beforehand, I could jump straight to the second draft out of the gate and save time.”

“Do you always change everything I tell you to change?” asked Ben.

“No,” said Dan, “of course not.  A lot of the time you’re way off from where I wanted it, I just didn’t make what I wanted clear.”

“I rest my case,” said Ben.  “Don’t make me change your story before it’s even born yet.”

“It’s already born,” said Dan, “I know what I’m going to write, and how I’m going to write it.  I just haven’t put it down yet.”

“Listen,” said Ben.  “If you want to tell me your story now, go ahead.  But if you want me to read it later, keep it to yourself, and give me a copy once it’s written.”

“It is written,” said Dan, pointing at his temple, “up here.  It’s just not on paper yet.  Does it really make a difference whether it’s actually written down on paper yet?  Does it?”

“Either way,” Ben said, returning to his notes, “I’m saying no thank-you on this one.  If you tell me the story for feedback from me now, I won’t read the story later.  One or the other.”

Dan sighed heavily, shrugged.  He half-smiled.

“Now I’m kind of curious,” he said.  “I’ve got one other idea I haven’t worked on yet, maybe I’ll do both.”

“What do you mean, both?” said Ben.

“You want a beer?” said Dan.

Ben looked at a large clock on the wall behind his shoulder.  “Not yet,” he said.  “Too much still to get through.”

“How many do you have coming due?” Dan asked, half-risen from the booth.

 “This week?” said Ben.  “Only two, and they’re both back with their owners now.  They’re as ready as they’re going to be.  Next week I’ve got six, and so far I only feel good about two.”

“I’ve got four this week and four next week,” said Dan.  “I don’t feel great about any of them.”

“How many are done?” asked Ben.

“For this week?” said Dan, and smiled sheepishly.  “Four, unless I make more time for them before I hand them back.”  He rose and went to the bar, came back with two glasses and set both in front of himself.

“By doing both,” said Dan, “I mean I think I’ll tell you the story of the old man and his visitor out loud, since you’ve already heard the set up and part of the hook.”

“Then I’ll have to pass on reading it when you’re done,” said Ben.

“And then--” Dan said, but he was cut short by a Ding Ding! from his pocket.  He withdrew a cell phone, read something on its screen with a frown.

“Do you want a couple of beers?” Dan asked.

“Why?” asked Ben, looking up again.

“Duty calls,” said Dan.  “I’ve got five this week looks like, just got an email.  One of next week’s is needed early.”

“You’re taking off?” asked Ben.

“Afraid so,” said Dan.  “So the old man and the visitor will have to wait.  You’re coming back tomorrow, right?”

“I’m here until the end of time,” said Ben.  “This place is pretty much the only place I can think, with everything going on at my place.”

“What’s going on at your place?” asked Dan.

“Long story,” said Ben, in a tone that suggested he was tired of talking about it.  “Not at all urgent.”

“Sorry to hear that,” said Dan distractedly.  “Anyway tomorrow I’ll tell you the story, and I’ll keep in reserve another idea I have to tell you.  I won’t tell you that one out loud, I’ll write it down instead.  That way I can see what the difference is between the two.”

“You won’t like it,” said Ben.

“How do you know?” asked Dan.

“I just can’t see any real improvements coming from it,” said Ben.  “None that you’ll be happy with.”

“Well, either way,” said Dan, getting up again, “I’m curious to see how it works.  Now, can I trust you with these beers or not?”

“Leave the little darlings,” Ben said, “I’ll make sure they get home.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Dan said.  “I’ll be back tomorrow.”  He got up and walked out the front door.