I smiled. “I missed you too. And you’re right, I met with Ebony today.”
“And did it go well?”
“I think so. She was excited about the book and called it fresh and unique.”
Amber, who had been in an accident as a child and sat in a wheelchair, leaned in. “I’m dying to know what it’s about.”
“It’s a romance.”
“A romance?” The surprise on Tina’s face was followed by Amber's wrinkling her nose up and tossing her many thin braids over her shoulders. The bright colors of pink, yellow, green, blue, and purple yarn in her braids complimented her caramel-colored skin.
“Who writes romances nowadays?”
Taken aback by Amber’s negative tone, I arched an eyebrow. “I do.”
“But why? Is there even an audience for that?”
Tina shushed Amber, and focused on me. “What’s the book about?”
I told them aboutForbidden Letters from the Northand Tina moved further to the edge of her chair. “And then what?”
“Then Mark’s brother follows him and climbs the wall too. He’s jealous and waits until Mark goes home that night and then he sneaks into Deidra’s house.”
“Oh no.” Tina gasped while Amber covered her ears. “If he hurts her, I don’t want to hear about it. This is getting scary.”
“Relax, it’s a romance. They always have happy endings.”
“What kind of happy story involves a woman in danger? I’m surprised your publisher didn’t tell you to remove that part.”
“A little danger can hook your audience.” I blew down at my cup of tea, which was too hot for me to drink.
“You mean traumatize them.”
“Amber is right. You have to be careful not to write something too upsetting.”
I stared at them. “What’s wrong with you two? I’ve been gone less than six months and you talk like you’ve forgotten everything Professor Maddison taught us at the university: good writing makes your blood boil, your head spin, or your pulse speed up. You may hate what you read, but if words can affect you that much, the author did well.”
When they just exchanged a wary glance, I groaned. “You do remember those words, right?”
Amber fiddled with the armrest of her wheelchair. “I’m not sure I believe those words anymore. The Council has been collecting data on the effects of emotionally loaded entertainment and it’s alarming.I mean people used to love horror stories and now everyone knows that they are toxic for your brain.”
“Still. Isn’t it our very job as authors to provoke and excite readers? How can I write a book if I’m scared of upsetting their feelings?”
Amber shrugged. “Tina and I both write mystery novels, and we’ve had to adapt after the ban on horror came out. Now we just make sure it never gets too much.”
I frowned. “So, you’re okay with the Council censoring our writing?”
Amber nodded. “I think they have to. I would be devastated if I traumatized or upset anyone.”
Leaning back, I sat down my tea and hooked my hands under my thighs. “That’s bonkers.”
Tina lowered her voice. “Careful. You don’t want anyone to report you for improper communication.”
“Very funny.”
When they didn’t smile back at me, my laughter died and my lips disappeared in a single flat line. “Don’t tell me that the Council went through with the communication law?”
“You didn’t know? It was on the News. There’s directions on WiseShare.”
