Some days are just better than others. First, I got an email from someone who actually wasn’t complaining about my stories. This put me in a great mood, since a lot of others just sent emails to say how annoyed they were that not every story gets a happy ending. Second, I finished two more stories that day but only uploaded the one I felt was more “complete”, which just meant more than 12 pages long. I was living my best life that afternoon when I got a ton of email notifications from the same sender, so I immediately assumed it was either spam, or just someone who wanted to vent and I ignored them.
After another ten notifications, I finally went into the email and had a look. Turns out, that sender was simply commenting on every single thing I had posted from the beginning, which is why there were so many emails piling up. I read them all, most of them being only one or two very short sentences. Finally, the sender asked me to respond, so I sent a quick reply email, saying I appreciated their feedback, but I was not ever going to go back to finish any of the things I had posted- the whole point was to let the readers decide what should happen and use their imaginations. The sender did not like my answer and insisted I write endings for a very specific couple of stories, which I had absolutely no intention of doing.
The sender tried to argue with me, but I would not budge, so they asked for my contact info to call me, or text or video chat, but since my entire life’s purpose is to remain anonymous, I politely told them no, I would not be giving it out. This continued for an entire week- the sender asking me to give them my contact info, me refusing, them begging me to trust them, me not backing down, etc.
It was finally the following Wednesday, I was annoyed about being bothered so much, and I asked my website manager to help me block their emails for my sanity. She tried to confirm the email I wanted her to block but then mentioned that someone had contacted her about that same email, claiming to be an agent for the famous person behind that email. I did not believe anything she showed me in her forwarded emails- thinking it must be a scam of some kind. My manager offered to contact them on my behalf to see if it was legit, so I reluctantly agreed, not expecting anything to actually come of it.
I’m not normally wrong about things, but I was definitely wrong about this. It was actually legit and someone was actually trying to get more info for their client, so I finally agreed to a phone call, no video, and I was going to hang up if they started asking me annoying questions. The next day I got a phone call from the agent, then agreed to speak with their client for a short time, not having high hopes for the success of this interaction. Imagine my surprise when I recognized the voice but had to pretend I didn’t care and treated them like a regular person.
He began by asking why some stories have endings, while others don’t, which instantly made me regret the decision to even take the phone call and I quickly answered, “I am not writing chapter books on purpose. Sometimes an idea pops into my head, sometimes it takes several days to get the details right, but other times it just isn’t worth pursuing, so I leave it open ended and allow the readers to create their own endings.”
I was not expecting his laughter, then his response of, “Ok, so you are not afraid of speaking your mind even though you know who I am. I am impressed. I was worried you would be too nervous to be yourself. I can see that I was wrong and am pleasantly surprised.”
I then stated, “I only know how to be myself, so why should that change when talking with you on the phone? I cannot stop my brain from creating stories any more than you can stop yours from creating music.”
He made a contented sound that I assumed meant he agreed with me, so I smiled, just waiting for him to change topics, or lead the conversation. I wasn’t waiting long before he said, “I actually have a real reason for this call, other than to complain about your writing. I would like to collaborate with you in the future, if you are interested.”
I laughed, thinking he was joking, then answered, “Yeah, right! Why would you need me, some random girl across the world, to work with you, an extremely famous performer? There have got to be better options for you out there, right?”
He made a different sound, almost grumbling, which told me he disagreed with me, so when he replied, “Actually, you are the only writer I think will fit best with my purpose, so no, there are not any better options. You are the only one I am interested in, and I won’t change my mind,” I was shocked.
I was silent, unsure of how to answer, so he continued, changing his tone to a friendlier one, almost teasing me, “Can you even consider the possibility that we would make a great team if we joined forces? Imagine how many great songs we could write!” I was surprised, but also not confident in my ability to fulfill his purpose, whatever that may have been, so I responded with, “I understand your perspective, but you need to consider mine. I do not write lyrics very often, so I have no experience, plus, I do not want anyone to know who I am in the real world, and working with you would pretty much take away any chance at staying anonymous, given who you are.”
He considered my words, making several thinking noises, which I assumed I would need to get used to, if we ever met in person to work together. I could already tell his “I disagree with you” sound apart from his “I agree with you” sound, so that was a start. He made another noise, something like a hum, which made me giggle, so he asked what was funny, and I told him I was learning to tell his noises apart, so I would know how to get along with him better in the future. Silence.
I was sure he was going to hang up, but then he asked, “When can we meet in person?” I almost fell out of my chair, that’s how completely shocked I was. Instead, I took a few deep breaths and did some mental calculations, then answered, “I think we can meet when you return to the US in August, since I’ll be flying over from Portland and can easily get to the East Coast by the time you return from Europe.” He sounded excited when he replied, “Yes, that will be good. I won’t have to wait that long. Will you continue to write in the meantime? I enjoy your daily upload because it is always entertaining.”
I was so glad he could not see my pink cheeks, but calmly stated, “Yes, I promised myself it was going to be my summer goal and I must keep my promise to myself. Also, it helps me process other things that might be stressful in life, even though the topics aren’t related.” He made the agreement sound, then commented, “Yes, that is the same for me. When I make music, I feel less stress than when I am forced to do other things.”
“That’s why we get along already; we are basically the same, just different genres of art being used to express ourselves. You were right- we will be fine working together!” I exclaimed, causing him to laugh, a sound I was happy to have caused. He then had to go but asked if he could text or call at other times, before we met in person, and I instantly agreed- he was going to be a great friend and I already knew it.
After that, whenever he had a moment, he would text or call, sharing random snippets of songs he was working on, then asking for my opinion. I would always give him my honest advice, hoping it was ok for me to be truthful, which he assured me it was. Time flew by and suddenly I was at the Boston airport, looking for someone with a sign that had my name on it.
When I found the person, dressed in a black business suit, holding a sign reading EMILY, I smiled and waved, then went over to introduce myself. The tall man did not react the way I expected; he simply pointed the direction he was going to walk and motioned for me to follow him, so I did, rolling my suitcase behind me, hurrying to get my backpack on my back while walking fast. He stopped at the elevator- I followed him inside, just setting the backpack on the ground for the time being. Once we reached the top floor of the parking garage, he quickly exited, taking my suitcase with him, allowing me to attempt to put on my backpack once more. I was having trouble with one of my arms, it was stuck like a chicken wing, so I was not paying attention and slammed into his back when he stopped abruptly, flinging me right onto the cement floor.
Well, I would have hit the floor if a pair of strong arms had not rescued me just in time, helping me stand up and then getting my arm unstuck. I thanked the person several times, not really looking at who I was speaking to, assuming it was a random stranger, but then a calm voice laughed and said, “I can see you are going to need some supervision while you are here.” I finally looked up, into his kind, smiling eyes, then gave a little jump as I threw my arms around his neck and exclaimed, “Yoongi! I am so excited to see you! Thank you for saving me! How did you know I was so clumsy?!”
He patted my back and chuckled as he replied, “I will try to keep you from getting hurt in the future. Let’s get to the car before you fall again.” He then took my hand and led me after the man who still had my suitcase, who stopped at an SUV about five parking spaces away. Yoongi opened the door and helped me take off my backpack, making sure my arm did not get stuck this time, while the business suit guy loaded my suitcase into the back and then hopped in the driver’s seat. Yoongi sat next to me as he explained, “I know you must be wondering what we will be doing in the short time we have together, but I wanted to start off with something easy. We are having lunch with the other members right now, so they can see how amazing you are and believe in your talents as much as I do.”
I must have looked pale and nervous after that because he patted my leg and assured me, “Don’t worry! They will like you as well because they have already heard your voice several times and read your words online, so they have some idea about how much time you dedicate to improving.” This did not help, which I think he could tell when I looked at him, biting my bottom lip, showing my anxiety and nervousness all over my face- I cannot hide my emotions to save my life.
