Excerpt: Untitled

Rachel looked at Herschel, serious now. “Do you ever get the feeling that the person writing our dialogue doesn’t know what she is doing?”

Herschel considered this for a moment. “Yes, I do,” he said, “She is also quite terrible at naming characters,” he added. “My real name is Dylan.”

They both turned then and stared directly out of the page.

Ever the brash one, Rachel addressed the author. “Um, hey, so do you think that you could figure out exactly what it is we are supposed to be doing here? I mean, I don’t even know this guy, and I get the feeling you are trying to get us to hook up. And, frankly, he’s not really my type”

She turned to Herschel, then, and added, “No offense, man. But I’m really more into musicians.”

Herschel’s face felt hot. He cleared his throat. “I played trombone in high school,” he muttered, slumping further down in his seat.

Rachel scoffed. “Is your real name really Dylan?”

“No,” Herschel answered dully.

"Crap," the author said. She stopped typing then and leaned back in her chair. "I don't think this is going to end well."