Castiel shares a story about search histories and arrests.

Me looking up tourniquets and how to perform first aid on a gunshot wound at 1am: somebody secretly spying on me is very concerned

The Perks of Being a Writer

By Castiel Novak

~o~

There is a police officer reading my journal.

I should preface this by saying, fellow writers, that this won't happen to you- a very specific set of circumstances led me to this moment. For example, making a plan to kill the president, even in jest, is against the law. But the police aren't going to go through text messages to check if someone is joking about killing the president. However, if said texts come up as evidence in a different investigation (say, one of child pornography) they can and will investigate.

Enter Gabriel Shirley, my idiot friend. He didn't actually do anything wrong, although he knew some people who did. (I warned him!) To prove his innocence, he handed the officers his phone.

The officers knocked on my door later, holding a full-page picture of screenshots of my friend's phone.

"Hi, Castiel Novak, correct?"

"Yes…"

"Mind if we come in?" the tall one asked. I looked up (and up… and up) at his face. He seemed kind enough, and he wasn't glaring or pointing a gun, so I nodded and directed them to the couch.

"I'm Officer Wesson. This is Officer Winchester," he said.

"We just have a few questions," said Officer Winchester. He was rather good looking, and I was finding it hard to ignore that. Luckily, I am a professional person when I need to be, and I convinced myself to interact with the officers normally.

"About…?"

"These," he said, handing me the pictures.

The screenshot showed texts. Written on the to-line was "cassbutt."

"One time!" I muttered to myself. "One time I misspeak!"

Officer Winchester chuckled, before catching his partner's disapproving glance and shutting up.

From Gabriel: What do you think of the new education policies?

My reply: The president can go to hell.

I agree.

Seriously, give me a sniper rifle. I will shoot him.

How are you gonna get through his security?

I will parachute from a helicopter into the whitehouse. Let's go. You can be the helicopter pilot.

I don't know how to fly a helicopter.

I do. I looked it up.

Of course you did.

Speaking of, how's it going?

The Beta Project?

No, the other massive time-consuming work you're doing, dumbass.

I do not need your sass.

Irene's giving me trouble.

How so?

She's too unbalanced.

And?

And I need to work on her purpose. Now shut up so I can get some work done.

Yessir.

Officer Wesson looked at me as I finished reading. I recognized those texts. The Beta Project was a new five-novel series I was working through, bouncing ideas off Gabe as I went.

"Um…" I didn't know what to say.

"We have to investigate if someone threatens to kill the president," Officer Wesson said.

"I… it was a joke. I wouldn't kill anyone," I protested quietly. I really wish I'd done more reading up on law, but somehow, that got pushed to the side. I know the intricacies of several models of gun instead. Do I say anything? Do I plead the fifth and insist on a lawyer?

Officer Winchester nodded. "Probably, but we have to investigate anyway, y'know?"

I nodded.

"We'd like to go through your search history, if that's all right," Officer Wesson said.

"Why?" I protested, an instant before I could think about maybe not obstructing their investigation. Was that illegal?

"You said you looked up how to fly helicopters."

That is true. I grabbed my laptop and opened it up.

Whoops. There was an… interesting section of one of the Beta Project novels up. I swiftly saved and exited before handing it to Officers Wesson and Winchester.

Officer Wesson, sitting across from me, began to work. I wanted to see the screen, but didn't know if they'd take offence to that. I sat quietly. What was in my search history? Well, I'd been researching for the Beta Project… right now, the characters were working through a problem involving-

Shit.

I'd been looking up about five types of explosives and the electrical layouts of your typical factory.

That can't look good.

Sure enough, Officer Winchester turned the computer around with several sites open, their data telling me how to explode a factory.

"Do you recall reading through these sites?" he asked.

I nodded, my mouth dry. Was I going to go to jail?

"You seem to have come up with the information on how to explode a factory."

Once again, I nodded.

"Do you intend to explode a factory?"

I shook my head.

"Can you please tell us what this information is for?"

"The Beta Project," I managed finally. "Irene- that's the one I texted about- she blew up the factory. I had to learn how to blow up a factory."

"Irene… the unstable one."

"Yes. Her purpose is a little skewed right now, but I'm working on it. She'll kill people. She killed people in the explosion, and it's because she's unstable, but she has to have a reason. She wouldn't just kill people. She's not a serial killer."

The officers shared a look. Officer Wesson looked at me, suddenly cold and unkind. Downright terrifying.

And I realized that I'd never mentioned The Beta Project was a book.

"It's a novel!" I shouted, as blood pounded in my ears and the temperature of the room dropped. "I'm sorry! I didn't kill anyone! Irene isn't real! She's a character in my novel!"

Officer Winchester had stepped toward me, but now he stopped and looked down at me where I sat, shaking with fear.

"The search history, that's for the novel too?" he asked.

I nodded.

"And why you looked up how to fly a helicopter?"

Again, I nodded.

"What about the assassination plan?"

"That was a joke," I whispered. "That's not in the novel."

Officer Winchester smiled. Officer Wesson grinned too. "It's all fake. False alarm. You had us going for a bit, there."

"I forgot I didn't say it was a book," I said, embarrassed.

"Can we see your novel?" Officer Winchester asked.

A few clicks later, the draft was open on the computer screen.

"Can I go get my journal?" I asked. "It's got all the stuff for the new novel. With the bombs and helicopters."

Officer Wesson nodded. I darted away and returned with the journal. Officer Wesson took the journal, and Officer Winchester took the computer with the first draft of the second novel on it.

I appreciated how careful Officer Wesson was with my journal. He didn't crease any pages, and he didn't bend the spine. Every so often, upon coming across one of the pages involving the things I'd searched, he would hum and nod. It was comforting, because it felt like passing an inspection. I suppose I was passing an inspection of sorts.

Officer Winchester, meanwhile, was quickly scanning the novel. I kept my eye on the page number.

Page 32 was where my screen had been before. When I said interesting, I meant gay sex. Detailed descriptions of gay sex.

To my horror, Officer Winchester paused.

I'm sure I blushed as he looked at me.

He began to speak. I almost missed it, because I was too busy being embarrassed that the attractive police officer in my house was reading my quite frankly vivid descriptions while I was in the room. This is exactly why I don't interact with editors while they read my work. (I speak with them after they've finished.)

"You're a good writer," he said.

"Thanks," I muttered, very relieved that he said nothing about the... well. That.

Officer Wesson looked over. Casually, Officer Winchester closed the computer lid before he saw anything. "He checks out," Officer Winchester said.

"Yeah," Officer Wesson agreed. He handed me my journal a tiny bit reluctantly. "Sounds like a good book."

"C'mon, Sam," Officer Winchester said. "We can buy his book later. Let's go."

On my way out the door, I smoothly handed Officer Wesson one of the little promotional thingies. It was a card with the website and a tiny ad on it.

Officer Wesson smiled. "Dean said that because he wants the book, not me."

I stared blankly for a second before I registered. "Oh," I said eloquently, turning to hand the card to- Dean.

"Thanks," Dean said. "See you around."

"See you," I said quietly to their retreating forms, halfway to their car.

Nice job, Castiel.

Nice job.

~o~

Three months later, the first Beta Project novel was released.

It was an instant hit. It was very popular among my age group, which included Gabriel. I forced him to purchase a book rather than freeloading off his connection to me.

It also included officer Dean Winchester.

At a book signing in Kansas, I studied people's faces to pass the time. I gave myself thirty seconds to identify the most prominent feature, or what I'd describe first in a novel. How would I draw this character through my words?

A dusting of freckles, I thought immediately. And green eyes that seemed to absorb the sun.

"Hi," the owner of the beautiful eyes said. "Remember me?"

"Dean!" I exclaimed.

Dean grinned.

An open, infectious smile.

"I, uh… I wanted to buy your book. Gotta read the rest."

I smiled tentatively, not knowing what to say.

Nervous honesty showed- Stop it, Castiel. Stop it. Conversation. Communicate.

"I'll, uh… I'll sign it," I said. Very smooth. I have such a way with words.

Dean handed me the book.

I signed the typical way, in what Gabriel calls my showoff signature. "For Dean," I wrote.

I had maybe two seconds to decide to write something different.

I should write my number.

I should definitely not do that.

"Thank you for not arresting me," I wrote instead in tiny, neat letters. I handed it back to him.

Dean read the message, and laughed.

"See you around," he said. I watched him go.

The next person approached me. I signed, and smiled at them. "Your name?"

"Jessica."

"To Jessica- Happy reading," I wrote…

I'm breaking this into two chapters because it's long.

Note from the author of a story about a fictional autobiography of an author: Off days are really nice for writing. Especially when they aren't actually off days and you're just taking a break because you stressed yourself out the point of getting sick.