She runs into an old high school classmate, someone she
remembers as being “not a bitch”, though she can’t remember her last name. We
don’t get a lot of information about Cara’s high school experience, but I think
the brief exchange between her and Julie shows how differently they perceive
it. Cara’s “not a bitch” comment scratches at the surface of what seems like an
iceberg of difficulty with relationships during that time of her life.
Julie, on the other hand, remembers Cara as being creative
and destined for a career in arts and entertainment, hinting that Cara was perhaps
more highly regarded by her classmates than she realized. Julie means well with
her comment, and Cara masks her way out of that conversation, then breaks down in
the store’s changing room, mourning the life she was actually on her way to
having before her mistake.
She lapses into a daydream, but this time, instead of continuing
to ruminate on what she has lost, she imagines taking back control of her
creative pursuits from Styles. Maybe she can’t have Sixty-Six back, but
she will start something new, something that will show him that she is not done yet and she won’t go down without a fight.
This daydream is the proverbial lightbulb switching on. It’s
a moment of inspiration, and it fires her up with the realization that the
reason she felt like the journal hadn’t served its purpose is because it hasn’t.
It was just an outline, a first draft, for something bigger – a book.
Now her daydreams take on a new purpose as well. They’re not
just procrastination, rumination, wish-fulfillment or other anxiety/ADHD
related symptoms. They’re fuel for her new book, and she dips back into the
island fantasy to finish up some loose ends with Styles. Having punished him by
dying of a sex-induced UTI, now she watches as a ghost as he must figure out
what to do with her body. He eventually lands on burial at sea, and she
describes the process in detail, relishing his pain and suffering as he heaves
her lifeless form over a cliff in an informal funeral ceremony.
Days later, Styles is actually, finally rescued from island.
If Cara had only survived a few more days she would have been rescued with him,
but alas, it was not to be. She couldn’t go with him – that rescue is all his,
and it’s basically her taking the first step of letting him go to get on with
his life without her, and her without him, even though she has transitioned
from the physical world into another dimension where they can’t interact with
one another.
(Side note: the chapter title, Making It, is a reference to the name of Styles' podcast, which is about inspiration and creativity.)
In Chapter 40: Secret Identity, Cara writes the book and
decides to publish it herself online. Now, I have to take a moment to talk
about my feelings about this chapter. It’s been a source of dread and anxiety
for me, because… well, this is where Cara's storyline intertwines with my own. Because
this book, Maladaptive, also began as a journal, something I did for
therapeutic release of a maladaptive daydream that was churning in my
imagination over and over again, to try and get it out of my head.
In journaling my daydreams as if they were real things that
had happened to me, I inadvertently started writing this book. And while it’s
certainly common for writers to incorporate events and musings from their own
lives into their writing, I went and did something that might be the worst idea
in literary history.
I stole Cara’s pen name. Or I gave my pen name to her. It’s
really the same thing. Cara publishes her book under the name Zinnia Sherwood. Not
only that, but she stole/I gave her Maladaptive as the title of her
book. I am stupid for doing this, right? And yet, I’m committed to it, until
such time as someone reading my book tells me that it’s the worst and they hate
it and Cara should have her own pen name and a different name for her book.
Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m so attached to this idea. It
seems like a clever twist, but also, metafiction is just so compelling to me.
But that’s the problem. This metafiction might ONLY be compelling to me.
It’s the ultimate wish fulfillment. And the idea of reading a book only to find
out in Act III that the book is about itself is just such a mind-blowingly cool
idea, from my perspective, anyway.
On a personal note, the name Zinnia Sherwood has given me
permission to write this book. I could never do it under my own name and take
it seriously. This was the only way I could do it, and I’m not going to
apologize for that. So why shouldn’t I let Cara have it too? But I’m aware it does put this whole story at
risk of losing the audience I’ve built for it. I only hope that readers will
think it’s clever and a fun twist, rather than a cop out, or an admission of
guilt about things that a fictional character has done, or something more
offensive.
After publishing her book, she becomes obsessed with
watching her analytics, the numbers trending upward, the reviews and engagement
from her readers. To get out of that headspace she goes on a hike, and while
hiking receives a text message from Griffin about an inside joke about an
amusing book they once saw while thrifting. It’s bittersweet, because here’s
Griffin finally interacting with her about something not related to their cat
custody agreement, but Cara can’t tell him about what’s happening with her
book.
With Zinnia Sherwood getting all the credit for something
she wrote, Cara’s feeling unseen, so she goes to visit Hannah. This is the
first time we meet Hannah in person, which is kind of criminal, actually (unless
you’ve read A Maladaptive Christmas Interlude, then you’ll be very familiar with
Hannah – but I digress). While Hannah is out of the room, Cara reaches for the
deck of tarot cards on a shelf and knocks the cards onto the floor.
When Hannah returns, she tells Cara to read the cards as
they lay, which ones have turned face up – The Six of Swords and the Six of Wands.
Hannah reads the message as being about moving away from something painful and
achieving recognition. At first glance this could be directly pointing to Cara’s
book, how writing it has been a healing journey for her and now the
book appears to be successful online.
But there may be another message there, under the surface. Now,
Hannah only has the limited information that Cara has given her, so she may not
be aware of the name of the web series project Cara had been working on with
Styles. The name of her novel manuscript that they were adapting. Are you with
me? Two sixes. Sixty-Six. I hate if I’m spoiling anything by
highlighting this, but it is meant to be a signal, and since I’m hoping that
astute readers will pick up on that, I feel like it’s fair to flag it, at
least.
The little gift that Hannah gives Cara at the end of the
chapter is proof that she does in fact see her, and it’s exactly what Cara
needed. I have to say, I was a blubbering mess writing that scene, and even now
when I read it, it makes me emotional. I think there may in fact be a therapeutic
element for me personally in that scene. I think Hannah showing Cara that compassion
is a way of giving herself permission to forgive herself, and allow herself to
accept love not just from a friend, but from herself. And I think that
indirectly, I was giving myself a dose of self-love and self-compassion with
Hannah as the conduit. I know that sounds weird, but having created both
characters, is it so crazy to think it’s one aspect of myself loving another
aspect of myself who thinks she doesn’t deserve it?
I don’t think I was consciously doing that, but the way that
scene makes me cry, even now writing about it, makes me think it's an unintended side effect.
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