“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why’d you depublish? I thought you loved to write. It was your father’s dream for you and everything.”
“I know,” she smiled. “It was my dream, too, for a while. But….the audience. They’re horrid. I hate my readers. All they do is…react.”
“And…what would you like them to do?”
“Read. They don’t read. They don’t sit, reflect, or think. They judge. Like they’re critics. It’s insane. Literarily insane.”
He smiled. “Okay, so, what’s your next book called?”
“The Audience.”
“And what’s it about?” he picked up his pen.
“An author that loses it. Too many critics in the audience. She starts killing them, one by one.” She smiled.