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People were already creating stories that weren’t even true, and somehow everyone was eating it up. Then an idea suddenly formed inside my head. If everybody wanted a story so badly, I would simply give them a different one. I immediately opened my contacts and created a group chat with a few old school friends. We weren’t exactly close anymore, but they loved gossip and that was all I needed right now. “Ladies, I need a favor,” I typed. “A very important one.” One of them replied almost immediately. “Girl, what are you planning now?” A smile slowly spread across my face while I typed my response. If I was going to do this, I had to do it properly.

That bothers me more than if he'd defended himself. The director clears his throat and presses a button on the remote. The giant screen behind him lights up with the bright, cheerful logo of the show. TASTE OF TOMORROW My stomach churns. "So..." The director smiles for the first time all morning. "Let's discuss Episode One." The screen changes. Theme: A Dish That Represents Your Relationship. Couples exchange uncertain glances. Some smile nervously. Others groan. I almost laugh. If they only knew. "The dish," the director continues, "must tell your story."

Brooklyn laughed as she shook her head and turned the water on to wash the breakfast dishes. Once she had finished, she dried her hands and walked back to her laptop, powering it on as she sat down. She set her elbows on the table, clasping her hands and leaning her chin against them as she stared at the screen. “How should I approach Addy’s new job as a story?” she murmured. “Should it be from her perspective? Should it be an overall piece on Barto Luciani?” Nodding as her computer finished booting up, she said, “I’ll start with a little research on him, then tie in her job, possibly showing a parallel between the two.”

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Instead, realize that your best writing will be born from excitement and passion for the story. Keep a brainstorming notebook for your story idea. Spike begins his scriptwriting process by jotting down ideas about the story in a notebook—character names, backstory, lines of dialogue, plot points, etc. As long as you always have your notebook with you (or a notes app on your smartphone), you'll never forget a good idea.

And soon, I was threatened by my editor for not submitting a new story because of the demands. But Frankly, I have no idea how to come up with an inspiration. Because I need to focus when I am creating a story. Writing an erotic story is not so simple. It needs more creativity to present the same thing in different ways every time. But here, when I am always stuck in the same thing, and always thinking of how to avoid angering the beast, my brain has left with zero space for my creation. I also can't leave the apartment for fear to meet Carla or Michelle on the way.

I died on a rainy day. The vibrant maple leaves, usually scattered across the mountainside, were nowhere to be seen because Conrad Reese couldn't wait any longer. I tumbled down the steps, blood pooling beneath me. But he wasn't satisfied. He shoved me down the stairs again and again, each time more forcefully. The pain was so intense that I could barely make a sound, but I still couldn't help but ask, "Why… are you doing this?" I didn't understand.

EPISODE 3 — MEMORY CORRUPTION The woman sets the cup down and stands, her legs steady now, her breathing under control. Recall, she tells herself, walking to the window, pressing her palm to the cold glass until it leaves a white mark on her skin. You are the author. You know this story. You know what happens next. She closes her eyes and reaches for the manuscript in her head, for the chapters she wrote at the kitchen table, in coffee shops, on trains during her commute to work. She reaches for the story she spent five years building, brick by brick, character by character, world by world.

The head-writer, Stephanie, keeps asking them for the place where the story changes, the moment when everything shifts. Everyone keeps pitching jokes. The jokes keep dying on the table. Someone pitches a bit about the GPS developing an attitude. She makes a face like she smelled something off. Someone else pitches a callback to an earlier scene. "No, come on people. Fresh. Exciting. New. We've done the radio. We've done the both-grab-for-the-gearshift," she says, pressing her knuckles into her eyes. "I don't want a bit. I want the thing underneath the bit. The place where it pivots into something meaningful."

What would stop Suit from constantly sending Anderson to a world where he was destined and designed to lose constantly. “Don’t be so dramatic.” As if reading Anderson’s mind, Suit spoke up. “Like I said earlier, the first story was just a test run for you to understand how things work. Things will be different next. Remember, just as your actions and decisions will affect the course of the story, so will the decisions and actions of others affect yours. I’m sure you understand what I mean.” Suit smiled with a knowing smile.