Jo: Clea, tell us about yourself.
Clea: I write dirty stories. Are you going to eat this?
Jo: No, go ahead. Tell us about your stories.
Clea: I don't think they'd like that much. This is sort of a family friendly place. I think these donuts are stale.
Jo: Just don't be explicit. Just give us an idea.
Clea: Well, they're kind of weird.
Jo: Weird? In what way?
Clea: Supernatural. Fantastic. I watch a lot of B horror movies. I read a lot of fantasy. And, you know, my mind wanders...
Jo: So you don't write a lot of mainstream stuff? Billionaires, bikers. That kind of thing.
Clea: They tell you to write what you know. I don't know any billionaires. I'm not even sure I remember what a hundred dollar bill looks like. Though I did once ride on a motorcycle. Really fast. The guy kept saying he hoped we wouldn't hit a rabbit. :: shudders ::
Jo: But you write about orcs and centaurs and mermen. You don't know any of those, do you?
Clea: Clearly we move in different circles. How old is this coffee?
Jo: About an hour. So why should anyone read your stories?
Clea: My English teacher asked me the same question, once. This coffee is terrible. :: makes a face ::
Jo: Clea?
Clea: Yes?
Jo: Can you answer the question?
Clea: Right. Well, because I care about the stories, I guess. I write about what I love. I love my characters, and I take their stories seriously. My stories usually have a lot of action and mystery and suspense in them. I think the part of my brain that understands genre conventions is broken, and that puts some people off, but a lot of people seem to like the stories anyway. I like dialog, and conflict, and humor, and surprises. And Easter eggs, of course.
Jo: Easter eggs?
Clea: Yeah. They're all connected. The stories. Shared universe. I read a lot of comic books when I was a kid.
Jo: Well that's ... interesting. Thank you for your time, Clea.
Clea: No problem. Thanks for having me, Jo. Say, uh ... could you maybe give me a lift? I seem to have misplaced my bus pass...