"James Patterson!"

"Over here, James!"

"Smile for the Tampa Tribune!"

James stepped backward as the reporters swarmed over his porch. The old wood beneath hundreds of feet creaked dangerously.

Time for the interview already? He thought.

Then he shrugged and made his way over to the studio van.

No one noticed the two shadows creeping behind the famous author.

They took off, various paparazzi trailing the vehicle like children would sprint after an ice cream truck.

But the driver knew some tricks to get rid of them.

He swerved into every alley, no matter how narrow, and shot down every detour. By the time they arrived at the studio, not even the most diligent reporters had stuck around, leaving the doorway clear for entry.

The studio served as a movie set and a news set. In one wing, Flaming Motorcycles was being filmed, while in the other Chuck Rodgers was waiting for an interview with a particular author.

With Chuck's flare-prone temper about imperfect punctuality in mind, James hurried inside.

"And here we are with James Patterson, author of the bestselling series Maximum Ride and Daniel X! So tell us, how does it feel to be so accomplished in your work?"

"It feels absolutely wonderful, Chuck. To write a book… is like painting a masterpiece. The only difference is that there is no visual- you must actually understand the words to understand the plot. And a story is much more complex than a painting."

"Wow, James! I feel inspired already! Speaking of inspiration, where do you get yours from?"

Just then, a large crash sounded offstage and James' face paled.

"I'm afraid we'll have to answer that later," He said, jumping to his feet and rushing toward the kitchen.

The studio's kitchen was not a kitchen; in fact, it barely resembled one.

The dining table served as a make up table, vanity, desk, and emergency prop when necessary. The refrigerator housed both fruit smoothies and fake zombie masks (from the movie Thrills and Chills, of course). And the microwave was nothing more than a black box that needed to be thrown out from rebellious actors putting flammable items in it. The only reason it was called the kitchen was because it was the only place you could get a free smoothie form the fridge. Plus, the table usually didn't have gum underneath it.

And now it was upside down.

It all started back at James' house.

"Bet you can't catch me!" Max jeered.

She flew high above the couch- her head was now touching the living room ceiling, and her feet dangled out of reach of Daniel's hands.

"Bet I can," he said. He used his high jumping ability to stand face to face for a second, then fall and grab her leg. Max was unable to hold up the extra weight, and they both plummeted to the couch. Then they started fighting.

Within minutes, the throw pillows were shredded, the table split in half, and the TV was toppled.

James walked in the room and sighed.

"Would you two cut it out? Jeez, a man can't get any sleep between you two."

He sighed again.

"Well, if you're gonna write books about us, you have to accept us into your home,"

Daniel said reasonably.

James shivered. "At least only one character per book is allowed out. I don't know what I'd do if the entire flock was here, or if Ergent Seth managed to break out of the first book of Daniel X."

Max looked offended. "And what's wrong with my flock?" she queried suspiciously.

"Er…nothing," said James smoothly. Just then, a camera flashed outside.

Daniel and Max disappeared out the window while James opened the door to greet hundreds of reporters.

Time for the interview already? He thought.

Back to the present...

James glanced at the ruined kitchen and turned his head to Max and Daniel.

"He/She started it," they said simultaneously.

"She called me a freak."

"He called me a freak first!"

"Yeah, not before you dropped a microwave on my head!"

"Not before you threw popcorn at me, calling me a pigeon!"

They got up and started to squabble again.

James sighed.

"Enough already!" he shouted.

Both looked up in surprise.

He steeled his nerves.

"This is the reason Wisty got locked away in the closet," he said.

"She didn't follow my rules."

"Maybe you shouldn't have given her the whole 'human torch' superpower," Daniel muttered.

"And maybe you should have specified the rule of trying not to burn the house down…" said Max.

"Quiet! Or else in the next book, you'll both get run over by a bus!"

The room became really quiet.

"I have an idea," he said quietly.

This is where I come into the story.

Regular, normal, fifteen year old Alice Catherine Nile*.

That's me.

I logged on to my computer one night, returning upstairs from dinner.

Then I continued the novel I was writing.

It was about two people: an Angel and a Demon who were in love.

I'll show you an excerpt.

"Daron," Erin said. "When will I see you again?"

Daron's white robes swished around his feet as he shuffled uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid this is our last meeting," he said quietly.

Erin's eyes welled up with tears.

"No…" she said.

They knew what had to be done: before they departed forever.

Their first kiss.

First they embraced each other…

No sooner had I written that was there a snap and two people appeared in my room out of thin air, hugging each other.

But I was used to it by now.

They leaned in toward each other…

They did the same in real life, never taking their eyes off of the other's.

And…

Soon enough, the two people were making out on my bed.

I sighed happily. I was finally done with the story!

I turned to the two lovebirds and scowled.

"Out," I said sternly. "The book is done. You can leave now."

They vaporized.

Outside my window…

"This is the girl James wanted us to meet?" Max said.

"She can create two characters from one book. Even James can only do one character per story," said Daniel.

"That is pretty impressive… she must be a pretty talented writer. Maybe she can help us stop fighting."

Daniel nodded. "Let's hope," he said and they crashed through my window.