The door slams open as I walk in with a fresh copy of “The Memoir of Beppy”. The love of my life jumps before she whirls in her swivel seat to face me. “Jack, you scared me! I thought-“ She stops as she sees one of her new books in my hand. “Oh, did you pick that up this morning? How sweet!”

“Laura, this is serious. Why is it like this?” I ask seriously. Her smile drops.

“I’m… sorry?”

“Why is it so different?” I ask. She shrugs.

“I mean, I know a story about a dead clown’s not mainstream but-“ I sigh, stopping her. I rub the bridge of my nose and rephrase my question.

“No, why is it not… why is it not so meh?” I ask. Laura gives a confused chuckle.

“Um… thank you, I guess?” She says hesitantly.

“No- Laura, I’m being serious here! It’s good! It’s original! It’s entertaining! It’s fun to read!” I ramble off, frustrated.

“Okay, I know my drafts weren’t the best, but you didn’t have to-“

“Just tell me what happened, please. I’m half-wondering if you’re really good, and half-wondering if you stole someone’s ideas,” I say. Finally, my girlfriend sighs, and answers my question with a bit of annoyance.

“After you read my draft and told me how you felt about it, I could see you didn’t like it. So, I rewrote the whole thing, from start to finish. Different gags, different styles, goodness, I used a whole different plot,” she explains. “I almost threw it away after I was done because I thought it still wasn’t good, but I figured why not send it over to my interested publisher and see if he liked it. Turns out he loved it.” She crosses her arms and leans back, expecting a reaction from me as I stare at her.

“… You rewrote… almost four hundred pages, in how long?” I ask. She looks up in thought before shrugging.

“Two days,” she says.

“Two da- Two whole days!?” I yell. “You basically took a skeleton of a premise, restarted, and finished it, in two days!?” Laura nods.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” she says with annoyance. I think for a bit before nodding.

“Could I… see your other drafts? One’s you’ve restarted, I mean,” I clarify. She sighs.

“Honey, they’re not any good-“

“Let me read them, please,” I say. She sighs and looks toward her laptop. Pulling them up, she lets me read over her shoulder. As I skim read, it takes about ten minutes before I look at her with amazement. “It says there’s three hundred and seventy two pages here,” I mention.

“Yes?” She says with confusion. “Honey, could you tell me what-“

“Send me more of your drafts, I want to read them before I make dinner tonight,” I say, backing off.

Later, after reading four separate drafts totally redone by my love, I walk over to Laura from my room, who’s watching some crime drama on the television. “Laura,” I say. She looks up and smiles.

“Hey honey! I didn’t see you all afternoon, what-“

“You’re sending these drafts to the publisher tomorrow morning,” I say, sitting next to her and hugging her.

“Uh- what?” She asks.

“Sweetie, your drafts are amazing. It’s like you worked out every single dent in your first draft. I- I love your work,” I say, smiling. I’m so proud of her, I don’t even know how to word it like she would.