Ruby Sparks Monologues

A novelist struggling with writer's block finds romance in a most unusual way: by creating a female character he thinks will love him, then willing her into existence.

This is the true and impossible story of my very great love. In the hope that she will not read this and reproach me, I have withheld many telling details: her name, the particulars of her birth and upbringing, and any identifying scars or birth marks. All the same, I cannot help but write this for her, to tell her "I'm sorry for every word I wrote to change you, I'm sorry for so many things. I couldn't see you when you were here and, now that you're gone, I see you everywhere." One may read this and think it's magic, but falling in love is an act of magic, so is writing. It was once said of Catcher In The Rye, "That rare miracle of fiction has again come to pass: a human being has been created out of ink, paper and the imagination." I am no J.D. Salinger, but I have witnessed a rare miracle. Any writer can attest: in the luckiest, happiest state, the words are not coming from you, but through you. She came to me wholly herself, I was just lucky enough to be there to catch her.

Naming your dog after him? It's a little disrespectful. Think about it. You're a novelist. You think this guy's the greatest. So you name your dog after him to cut him down to size. This way, you can put him on a leash… and yell "Bad Scotty" and feel all superior because you pee inside. Kill your idols, man. I'm all for it.

Ruby Sparks. Twenty-six years old. Raised in Dayton, Ohio.

Sounds romantic. Ruby's first crushes were Humphrey Bogart and John Lennon. She cried the day she found out they were already dead. Ruby got kicked out of high school for sleeping with her art teacher... or maybe her Spanish teacher. I haven't decided yet. Ruby can't drive. She doesn't own a computer. She hates her middle name, which is Tiffany. She always, always roots for the underdog. She's complicated. That's what I like best about her. Ruby's not so good at life sometimes. She forgets to open bills or cash checks and... Her last boyfriend was 49. The one before that was an alcoholic. She can feel a change coming. She's looking for it.

I'm not writing about you. I wrote you. I made you up.

It was once said of Catcher in the Rye: That rare miracle of fiction has again come to pass.A human being has been created out of ink, paper and the imagination.

She wasn't happy. So I made her happy... and now she's like this all the time.

I'm sorry for every word I wrote to change you. I'm sorry for so many things. I couldn't see you when you were here. And now that you're gone, I see you everywhere. One may read this and think it's magic, but falling in love is an act of magic. So is writing. It was once said of Catcher in the Rye, that rare miracle of fiction has again come to pass. A human being has been created out of ink, paper and imagination.

The only reason girls ever want to sleep with me is that they read my book in high school.

So they're not interested in me, they're interested in… some idea of me.