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“I’ve been practicing on Tabetha,” she admitted, “who has been kind to correct my pronunciation and everything else.”

“She’s doing really well,” Tabetha enthused. “We’ll have her speaking like a native in no time.” Without a blink she changed topics. “Is that Lars’ car parked outside?”

“It is. He was wounded recently and has come home to recuperate,” Myles informed her.

“Yes,” Adele agreed. “It is much better to recover with one’s family than alone.”

“Lars?”

“Remember, Zoe, I told you about him? He’s my oldest brother, the oldest of all six of us, the bossy one,” Tabetha reminded her.

“He and Gullik are in the Norwegian Royal Navy.”

“That’s right,” Zoe said. “You have five brothers, no sisters.” “Yes, that’s right.” Tabetha added with a little pout, “Can  you believe I never had a date until I started at university? Every boy in Bergen was scared off by my father and brothers.”

“It’s our duty to protect our baby sister,” a deep voice interjected. “And I—”

The young ladies looked up to see who had spoken. Tabetha smiled widely, squealed his name, and rushed to wrap her arms around her oldest brother whom she’d not seen in nearly a year. Lars braced himself against his little sister’s enthusiasm and pressed a kiss to her head.

“It’s good to see you, kjæresten min,” he murmured and gave her a squeeze. He looked over his sister’s head and felt his heart thud, his belly roll, and his groin tighten. Gently disentangling himself from his sister’s embrace, he took a step forward and asked, “Who is this?”

“Oh, no, you don’t, Lars!” Tabetha laughed. “This is Zoe, my roommate at university. And she is not going to be one of your many conquests.”

He glanced at his father, whose pale bushy eyebrows met his hairline in amused understanding. The older man’s mouth moved in silent exclamation and Lars knew exactly what he said: “Pow!”

Like a large gun. A bomb. Fireworks. An explosion.

Like the military, the ethos of freelancing can be summarized as "hurry up and wait." The current and extended lockdowns due to COVID-19 exacerbate the problem. Ohio is under a stay-at-home order until May 4.

So, we wait.

We wait for the lockdown to be lifted, to once again gather with friends and family to revel in closeness and exchange hugs. The extended lack of personal human connection wears on the soul of even the most diehard introvert.

If you're a freelancer, you wait for responses. First, you bid, then you wait. If a prospective client responds to your bid, then you discuss the project and wait some more for a decision and a signed contract. If the project proceeds, one must wait for the needed information before beginning the actual work. With ghostwriting, there's more waiting. The ghostwriter submits the drafted content and waits for the client to review it and request changes. Finally, there's the waiting for payment.

Some freelancers require a percentage of the project fee before beginning the work. That's great when one knows the project scope. For extensive projects like novels, there's often no telling how long the manuscript will be. The last ghostwritten novel I completed was estimated at 80,000 words and ended up at 104,000 words--quite a difference.

When the issue of fees comes up, questions arise. The fairest, most equitable method I have found for fees is based on word count. Per-page invoicing ignores the many variables that affect the quantity of content per page. Variables include margin width, font, font size, spacing, and leading. Lately, some potential clients specify their formatting requirements: letter size paper, 1/2-inch margins, 10 point Times New Roman, single spacing. The word count resulting from those specifications is about double that for a page formatted in standard manuscript format: letter size paper, 1-inch margins, 12 point Courier, double spacing. The former needs around 500 words to fill the page, the latter averages 250 words per page.

Those variables matter.

Some clients request unlimited revisions. I don't agree to those, because that means the project is never complete. Instead, I either specify a limited number of revisions covered by the project fee, or a clause stating that my obligation to the content ends upon completion and delivery. The content is not delivered until and unless the client approves it.

The waiting game may feel like wasted time, but it serves to give the client the time needed to assure himself or herself that the content produced for the project matches needs and expectations.

In the meantime, anyone can put time waiting to good use. I'll be working a new new manuscript.

Disembodied screams woke him. Before he hardly recognized what he was doing, he found himself in the doorway of his sister’s bedroom. 

“Hush!” Tabetha hissed at him as she wrapped her arms around her friend who whimpered like a kicked puppy. Zoe’s eyes were wide open, but unfocused. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked hoarsely, the young woman’s distress making his heart pound inside his chest. He practically vibrated with the need to hold her, to gather her close to his body and shield her from whatever terrorized her dreams. And then he’d give her greater pleasure than she’d ever known. 

“She has nightmares,” Tabetha answered and rocked Zoe back and forth, murmuring childish nonsense to her in a soft, sing-song voice. 

“About what?” 

“She won’t talk about it. They’ve have been less frequent these past several months, but I suppose recent stress stirred up whatever lurks in her memories.” She sighed. “Sometimes she cries out his name, but I’m never sure if he’s her tormentor or rescuer.” 

“What can I do?” Lars asked, wondering who “he” was. 

“Go back to bed, Lars. She’ll be fine for the rest of the night.” 

“I’ll sit here for a while longer.” 

Tabetha shook her head and said wearily, “She’s not yours, Lars.” 

“She will be.” 

“Oh, God, not you, too,” she groaned. 

“Please tell me you don’t believe Dad’s ‘pow’ theory of love at first sight.” 

“I didn’t until today,” Lars admitted sheepishly. He reached over and ruffled his sister’s hair. “You’ll find your true love.” 

“I’m not looking for him, that’s for sure. I have things I want to do with my life before settling down with a husband and popping out babies.” She looked at her friend, now sleeping peacefully. “I think she has plans, too, that don’t involve marriage and children.” 

“Plans can be changed.” 

“Oh, you’re such an obstinate man,” she grumbled and threw a decorative pillow at him. He caught it.

“Go back to your room and go to sleep. And keep your hands and dick to yourself.” 

​Lars tossed the pillow back and reluctantly rose from the trundle bed. He cast one last concerned glance at his sister’s roommate and returned to his own room, making a mental note to investigate her background. If she wouldn’t tell him, then he’d find out what haunted her through other channels. ​