woman fixed her stare on Rena and Suzanne GP, who were seated next to
each other. "Which one of you is it?"
GP's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Neither." She pointed to Randy Callahan.
Ridgeway grabbed up the thick manila file she had brought with her, and lumbered to
her feet. "You think this is funny, do you? Well, I didn't come here to be insulted." She moved
with surprising agility toward the door.
Royce Fontaine, seated at the end of the couch, had to jerk his legs quickly out of the
way to avoid tripping her.
Randy managed to block her path. "This is no joke, Ma'am. I'm Theia Rand. My real
name is Randy Callahan. And I didn't steal your story, Ma'am."
"The hell you didn't! You--"
Upton intervened. "Ms. Ridgeway, will you please sit down?"
She glared at Randy and returned to her seat.
"Now, please tell us what makes you think he plagiarized your story."
"You bet I will. I started writing seriously about three years ago. Last year, I heard about
the CFWA and decided I ought to find out how you go about marketing the stuff you write.
When I signed up, they gave me a brochure about the writing contest. I already had seven
chapters done, so I figured, what the hell? I might as well find out if anyone would want to read
what I was writing. I'm not a published author yet, but it seemed to me that--"
"So you entered the contest?" Upton prompted.
"Right. I submitted my outline and the first three chapters, just like the rules said. I even
decided to splurge and pay for a critique."
Royce Fontaine cleared his throat. "How far did your entry progress, Ms.
Ridgeway?"
"I have no idea. Other than the critique, I never heard 'boo' from anyone. Not a single
thing."
Suzanne GP told her, "That means your entry was eliminated during the first round. If
you had made it into the second grouping, you would have received a post card."
"I take it you didn't receive a post card?" Upton said.
"Like I said, I never heard 'boo.' But I still came to the convention and even attended the
awards banquet. I was glad I did, too. It made me feel good about writing. At least until a few
days ago, when I found out that Theia Rand--or Callahan, or whatever his name is--had stolen my
story."
GP said, "Ms. Ridgeway, Mr. Callahan wasn't one of the judges in the first round. He
couldn't have seen your manuscript."
"Then someone who did judge the first round must have shown it to him. Or told him
about it. That's why I figure you're all in cahoots with her. Him."
"I doubt that it could have happened that way," Upton assured her, "but we'll certainly
check it out."
Rena spoke up. "Ms. Ridgeway, what sort of critique did you receive?"
"Not a very good one, I'll tell you. They ripped my story to shreds. The plot was too trite.
The historical setting wasn't right. The hero didn't have enough flaws. Flaws? Why does the hero
need flaws? He's the good guy. At first, I guess I was kind of hurt. But when I thought
about it, some of what they said made sense. Later, of course, when I found out that someone had
stolen my idea, I was just plain mad."
"Tell me about that," Upton invited. "How did you find out?"
"They told us at last year's convention that you have to find out what's selling, that you
need to figure out who your audience is going to be. So I started reading romance stories,
especially historicals, because that's what my story is. I practically became a regular at the Tattered Cover.
"The other day,I picked up Dark Decisions by Theia Rand. Once I got
into it far enough, I realized it was my story. I was flabbergasted! Oh, she had made up some
different characters and changed the plot around some, but it was definitely my story. No doubt
about it." She glared at Randy again. "Now, it turns that she is a he."
Fontaine asked, in an almost scholarly tone, "Can you summarize the basic story
line?"
"Sure. It's set in France in 1943." She looked down at the folder in front of her and began
reading from her plot summary: "The heroine is
each other. "Which one of you is it?"
GP's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Neither." She pointed to Randy Callahan.
Ridgeway grabbed up the thick manila file she had brought with her, and lumbered to
her feet. "You think this is funny, do you? Well, I didn't come here to be insulted." She moved
with surprising agility toward the door.
Royce Fontaine, seated at the end of the couch, had to jerk his legs quickly out of the
way to avoid tripping her.
Randy managed to block her path. "This is no joke, Ma'am. I'm Theia Rand. My real
name is Randy Callahan. And I didn't steal your story, Ma'am."
"The hell you didn't! You--"
Upton intervened. "Ms. Ridgeway, will you please sit down?"
She glared at Randy and returned to her seat.
"Now, please tell us what makes you think he plagiarized your story."
"You bet I will. I started writing seriously about three years ago. Last year, I heard about
the CFWA and decided I ought to find out how you go about marketing the stuff you write.
When I signed up, they gave me a brochure about the writing contest. I already had seven
chapters done, so I figured, what the hell? I might as well find out if anyone would want to read
what I was writing. I'm not a published author yet, but it seemed to me that--"
"So you entered the contest?" Upton prompted.
"Right. I submitted my outline and the first three chapters, just like the rules said. I even
decided to splurge and pay for a critique."
Royce Fontaine cleared his throat. "How far did your entry progress, Ms.
Ridgeway?"
"I have no idea. Other than the critique, I never heard 'boo' from anyone. Not a single
thing."
Suzanne GP told her, "That means your entry was eliminated during the first round. If
you had made it into the second grouping, you would have received a post card."
"I take it you didn't receive a post card?" Upton said.
"Like I said, I never heard 'boo.' But I still came to the convention and even attended the
awards banquet. I was glad I did, too. It made me feel good about writing. At least until a few
days ago, when I found out that Theia Rand--or Callahan, or whatever his name is--had stolen my
story."
GP said, "Ms. Ridgeway, Mr. Callahan wasn't one of the judges in the first round. He
couldn't have seen your manuscript."
"Then someone who did judge the first round must have shown it to him. Or told him
about it. That's why I figure you're all in cahoots with her. Him."
"I doubt that it could have happened that way," Upton assured her, "but we'll certainly
check it out."
Rena spoke up. "Ms. Ridgeway, what sort of critique did you receive?"
"Not a very good one, I'll tell you. They ripped my story to shreds. The plot was too trite.
The historical setting wasn't right. The hero didn't have enough flaws. Flaws? Why does the hero
need flaws? He's the good guy. At first, I guess I was kind of hurt. But when I thought
about it, some of what they said made sense. Later, of course, when I found out that someone had
stolen my idea, I was just plain mad."
"Tell me about that," Upton invited. "How did you find out?"
"They told us at last year's convention that you have to find out what's selling, that you
need to figure out who your audience is going to be. So I started reading romance stories,
especially historicals, because that's what my story is. I practically became a regular at the Tattered Cover.
"The other day,I picked up Dark Decisions by Theia Rand. Once I got
into it far enough, I realized it was my story. I was flabbergasted! Oh, she had made up some
different characters and changed the plot around some, but it was definitely my story. No doubt
about it." She glared at Randy again. "Now, it turns that she is a he."
Fontaine asked, in an almost scholarly tone, "Can you summarize the basic story
line?"
"Sure. It's set in France in 1943." She looked down at the folder in front of her and began
reading from her plot summary: "The heroine is
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