Who does she think she is?

CheneyFiction, On Writing, Writing Challenges11 Comments

Who does she think she is?

I ask myself this over and over as I’m sitting at my vanity, applying thick coats of concealer and constructing my mask.

Yesterday I cut my hair short – boy short.

Today I do the hard work of hiding myself, turning my pretty girl face into just another anonymous guy.

Who does she think she is?

Spending all her spare time alone in her trailer, reading books and writing little stories that no one wants to read!

Does she really think she can be a writer?

Make a living writing?


What a loser.

She never finishes anything she starts, anyway.

She’ll write 50,000 words or more and think she can call it a novel.

50,000 words of CRAP!


I slip in a pair of brown contacts to cover my familiar blue eyes. I make sure tone down the definition of my jawbone, and use a pencil to make my lips look thicker.

Who does she think she is?



That just means she couldn’t make it as a REAL writer.

She couldn’t get an agent.

She couldn’t sell a story to save her soul.

She’ll be shelling out words for free in her trailer for the rest of her life, always thinking that next five-starred review will be the the tipping point.



She can’t write.

All those people who DON’T read her words will make that very clear.

I sit before the mirror, transformed. She will never recognize me in a crowd. Not until it’s too late.

Who does she think she is?

Picked up by a publisher.

Her book is on every fucking shelf I see.

In the library, in the bookstore, in the Wal-Mart, in the grocery store, EVERYWHERE!

This is just getting ridiculous.


She can’t fucking write.

What, are you all delusional?

Am I living in a dream world where now they’re making a movie out of it?

Kevin Williamson and Ridley Scott teamed up.

They say it’s going to be epic.


She’s just some small town, poor, ugly, loser, NOBODY.

She can’t write.

She can’t make her dreams come true.

This can’t happen for someone like her.

Into the bookstore I go. I’ve traveled by train to Union Square for this signing. This is as close to home as she’s going to be for a long time. Her Hartford signing was sold out in minutes, I saw news footage of a crowd lining up around the block.

The line is miles long, and I squeeze into the queue, displacing more than a few disgruntled fans, but no one stops me because I cannot be stopped.

I blend in, anyone, because I am everyone.

Who does she think she is?

Sitting there, smiling for pictures, signing books.

A line of thousands waiting to touch her hand, look into her eyes, squeeze in close for a photo op.


She doesn’t DESERVE this!

She can’t DO this!

She’s just that fat, stupid, mousey little high school dreamer.

She’ll never be anything.


The line snakes closer.

It’s almost my turn.

Who does she think she is?

I’m going to tell everyone about her.

I’m going to shout it as loud as I can.


I used the prompt Who was that masked man? to write this little horror story. What’s your biggest fear?


Edited to add: Thank you again to everyone who voted this week – for the second week in a row my piece was the crowd favorite and I am totally thrilled!

I was hoping to be able to convey the meaning of this piece well, but based on the comments I don’t think I did as good of job as I intended.

In this story, the successful author is me – the me of my dreams. The evil troll is also me – she’s the embodiment of every negative thought I keep repeating to myself, she is the one biggest threat to my success, and she is my biggest nemesis – myself.

My worst nightmare is someone coming at me and “exposing” me as a fraud. It’s silly, it’s insane.. It’s still my fear. I’m trying to work it out 😉

Thanks again, readers and voters!

11 Comments on “Who does she think she is?”

  1. I think my biggest fear is large bugs in places where large bugs shouldn’t be. I hope the writer gets through this encounter with the narrator safely. On the other hand, going by the 50,000 word reference, I assumed she got through NaNoWriMo, so….

  2. As I read–until the very last lines–I wondered if this was the internal dialogue of a writer with her self-critic (i.e., the person putting on the mask and the she-“successful” writer were the same, and she is incapable of dealing with her own success) OR if this was one super-jealous psycho out to get someone else. You pulled me right along with the suspense of it.

      1. Well, apparently mine is enough evil that I recognized it in another form. 😉 Crafty work!

  3. My biggest fear is not leaving a legacy after I’m gone. I thought for sure your narrator was looking in the mirror throughout your story. Like the italics are the narrator’s thoughts about her own success.

    1. Yes, that’s kind of it, sort of. I am now seeing based on the comments that I didn’t do a very good job getting my point across. The successful girl is me (the me of my dreams) the evil troller is also me (the dark thoughts I have in my head that keep me from feeling good enough to try harder to get what I want).

Feel like sharing some thoughts?