Wray the Writer

"Wray, what are you doing?" Jack asked as he found his friend sitting on the floor in front of a locked door.

"Dark Pony is setting up a workshop to evaluate potential writers here later," Wray explained. "I just want to reserve my place."

"Since when do you want to write comic books?" Jack puzzled, "and why would you want to do it this way? Can't you just have your agent call?"

Wray shook his head. "She wants no part of it. She says I write like a seventh grader."

Jack whistled softly. "Oooh, that's cold. Well listen, I have a panel for my new anime movie. I'll check back with you later in case you need to pee or something."

"Yeah, thanks Jack," Wray answered distractedly looking through a folder. "See you later."

The line grew until it stretched to the end of the long hallway. Wray regarded his competition. They looked like kids. Of course a lot of people looked like kids to him these days. He wondered how much longer he would be able to seek out and destroy the grays that invaded his blond locks uninvited. Finally he heard the door lock being opened from the inside.

Two men, at least ten years Wray's junior, sat at a table. One beckoned Wray over and extended his hand. "You're Wray Nerely, right? My older sister really liked Spectrum. Of course she still has a real crush on Jack Moore. But I mean, what woman doesn't, right? And some of the guys too."

"Right," Wray agreed, working hard to keep his smile in place.

I'm Benny Bourson, the publisher," the man explained. "I'm glad to see you. Celebrity names, even minor ones, are always good for sales. Are you a fan or what?"

Wray cleared his throat. "Uh, well, yeah I'm a fan, especially of Flash Gervis, but I'd really like to try my hand at writing some stories."

"Oh," Benny responded, nodding. "I didn't know you wrote. What have you done?"

Wray shuffled his feet nervously. "Um, I, that is Jack and I, we wrote a pilot."

"Yeah?" Benny smiled, "when is it going to be on?"

Wray nervously fingered his folder. "Well it didn't exactly make the cut. You know, problems with creative differences."

"I hear you," Benny responded, his smile dimming. He pointed at Wray's folder. "So is that your portfolio?"

"Uh huh," Wray agreed, handing it to Benny.

Benny flipped through the contents, his brow furrowing as he read. Finally he looked up, his smile even less convincing. "So I see your contact info is in here. I'll send it back to you in a few weeks with my comments, okay?"

"That's it?" "Wray asked.

"Yeah," Benny confirmed. "Look there must be hundreds of people out there waiting to get in. Thanks for coming. I'll be in touch."

Wray left dejectedly. He glanced down the hall where a press of fans had formed, holding up phones to take pictures and clamoring for selfies. He sighed and shook his head. "Jack," he muttered to himself.

Jack finally made his way through the crowd, smiling and agilely dodging a couple of fans maneuvering to just touch his amazing ass. "Hey Buddy," he greeted Wray. "How did it go?"

"You know those auditions where you read half a line and they say 'thank you very much?'" Wray asked.

"Yeah, I had a lot of those when I first moved to L.A., before Spectrum. Oh Wray, was it really that bad?" Jack asked sympathetically. "Maybe they're just rushed. There is a huge line."

"Wray shook his head. "Nah, I've been around long enough to know when I'm being given the old heave ho. But you know what, Jack? I'm going to do it anyway. I'm going to write a story and I'll get someone to draw it. I'm gonna show Black Pony, my agent, all the doubters in the world that Wray Nerely is a creative force to be reckoned with. Hey, weren't there some artists in the green room for some of the comic book panels?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I think they left though, but there were a couple who worked on my movie, who said they were heading for the Blue Palm. C'mon, I'll introduce you."

Wray did a mental accounting of how many autographs he would have to sell to pay for the rounds he was buying. Jack had bought the first one, but he had to leave again and Wray was on his own. The artists were already on to their next project, but one of them, Lenny Dudley showed Wray some art on his phone his son Eddie, a student, had produced. Wray was impressed and Lenny promised to make introductions.

Wray met Jack at the airport excitedly. "How was the shoot?" he inquired. "Three months in the desert, that must have been rough."

"It will be great not to have sand in my shorts everyday," Jack admitted, "but I think it's going to be a great movie. So you said you were getting your project off the ground."

Wray bounced in his tattered sneakers. "You haven't been the only one hard at work. I've been working with Eddie Dudley and we're almost ready to go. We want to put together an Indiegogo campaign to launch the graphic novel. I have some stuff in the car if you want to see it."

"Yeah, sure Wray," Jack responded, exhausted, but trying not to dampen his friend's enthusiasm, "but I've been flying for sixteen hours. Maybe we can have a beer first or something?"

"Sorry Jack," Wray apologized, "of course." Unable to wait, Wray brought a leather case full of drawings into an out of the way bar and grill where he and Jack stopped for a snack. They took a booth with high wall and Jack pulled a baseball cap down over his face. "Don't want to cope with the fans right now?" Wray assumed.

"Don't really want to cope with anything. To tell you the truth, Wray. The shoot was hell. The temperature never fell below a hundred. Everyone was sick from dehydration. I shot my biggest action scene with a hundred and two fever. Don't ever shoot a movie in Tunisia if you can avoid it. You know that story they tell about Harrison Ford just shooting the guy in Raiders because he was too exhausted to do another fight scene, well I believe it man. Working there, it just takes everything out of you. I want to sleep for a week - alone."

Wray looked down disappointedly at his case full of drawings. "Then I guess you don't really want to look at my stuff, huh Jack?"

Jack clapped Wray on the shoulder. "I said I'd look, and I'll look - at least when a cold one gets here. But right now you shouldn't put much faith in my judgment." After running the icy bottle of micro-brew over his forehead Jack flipped through Wray's offerings. "This is some great art, Wray, the kid may be better than his old man."

Wray nodded. "Yeah, he's good, but what about the story, Jack? What do you think of the story?"

"Mmm," Jack mused, "a spaceship full of quirky misfits where the captain is a sniveling wimp and the dashing heroic pilot saves the day and the girl. Well that certainly isn't what happened on Spectrum."

Wray pumped his head vigorously. "I know, right? It's different. And look, the pilot even gets the great hair!"

"Yes I see that," Jack acknowledged. "Um, so what do you want me to do, Wray?"

"Well I was really hoping you'd help me make a promo video for Indiegogo," Wray replied, but continued quickly at the tired look in Jack's eyes. "But I can see you're not really up to that right now, so how about this? I'll put the campaign together and you can tweet the link for me, give it the 'Moore Push.'"

Jack thought about how his fans would react to his endorsement of what would be, by the kindest description, a mediocre story. Well, the art was good and that's what a lot of them went for anyway. And Wray looked so hopeful. "Sure Buddy. Send me the link and I'll retweet it. No problem."

"Good," Wray enthused, "and then when we make a milestones maybe we can unlock an mp3 of you reading some of it."

Jack shrugged, thinking they'd probably never make a milestone. "I can do that."

Wray held up his beer in a toast. "To a successful campaign." Jack clinked with him, and downed his beer at a much greater than his usual relaxed rate.

"Nerds of the newest universe," the moderator announced, "I introduce to you The Pilot, the creator of the Nere Universe, Wray Nerely.

The room roared as Wray walked out on stage. "Nerons," I greet you all," he declared in his glory. "I swear by P.J. Haarsma, creator of all rings, I never thought this would happen. You have embraced me as no one has embraced me before."

"Oh brother!" Jack thought from his seat, invisible behind a curtain in the wings.

"You have showered me with your praise and your love, and my love for you knows no limits," Wray continued. "There's just one thing. Most of you have received your copies of the Nere Universe as perks from our highly successful Indiegogo campaign. If you could do me an immense favor, I would be forever grateful. Convince your friends to actually buy a copy so I can make some money, otherwise I'm going to have to charge almost as much for my autographs as my dear friend Jack Moore does."

In his hiding place, Jack just groaned.