Page 1 of Always a Chance
1
TALIA
Downsizing. What a strange word. I couldn’t comprehend it as I gripped the mahogany arms of the chair I’d come to know so well. My finger skimmed over a familiar chip in the wood as I flipped the word over in my mind. Businesses grew, or at least, they tried to. They didn’t consciously make the choice to get smaller, to say goodbye to the very people who’d kept the lights on for almost six years now.
Mr. Irons was still speaking, but I’d long since lost any thread to his words, any meaning beyond the phrase, “We’re sorry, but the company is downsizing.” Print was the first to go. That was always the case. No one recognized the true value of holding a newspaper in their hands, the world right at their fingertips. Not anymore.
“Tali, are you listening to me?” Mr. Irons gave me a kind smile, a gesture that fit the sweet, middle-aged man he was but not in this very unsweet moment. Unsweet, I held back a snort. Was that the right word? Some writer I was.
“Yes.” I coughed. “Downsizing. Got it.”
There was pity in his eyes now, a look I was used to that said Talia Hillson had lost her friggin’ mind. Maybe I had long ago. It was what made me such a good writer.
“Tal.” He perched on the corner of his scuffed desk, and it creaked beneath his weight as he crossed his arms. “You know I hate to do this.”
“Yeah, uh-huh.” That was the thing. I did know it. There was nothing malicious about this firing, but that was still what it was.
“Truly, this order comes from higher up. The board has decided to take theChronicleentirely digital. It’s creating a mess for me, really. I have to reorganize my entire staff.”
“And I didn’t make the cut.” I shouldn’t have been surprised. This was the way my life had always gone. But at the same time, I was. I’d only ever been good at one thing. Writing. For years, theChronicleheralded me as their top writer, their shining star.
But not all stars shone forever.
Mr. Irons sighed and stood, moving around his desk to lower himself into the rolling chair with the slowness of a man twenty years his senior. He did everything carefully, cautiously. That was how I knew going digital wasn’t his idea. Change didn’t suit the last man hanging on to print newspaper with both fists.
Still, downsizing sounded so clinical for the emotions welling in me. I tried to pick them apart. First, shame. I was the first writer they chose to let go. What did that say about me?
Then, anger, but that didn’t last. I wasn’t an angry person. Not usually anyway. The anger quickly faded into fear. If I lost this job, how could I stay in the city? Every paper was letting people go. There were no jobs to be had. I couldn’t lose this one.
“Mr. Irons.” I almost called him Nolan, like I had so many times before, but that didn’t seem right when I was fighting for my job. “I can write for digital. I know I can.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, as if he’d had this same argument before. “That’s what I told the board. Trust me, Talia, I fought for you. But this wasn’t my decision. They aren’t taking anyone from print for the digital team.”
“But why? I’m a better journalist than all your digital writers combined.”
We both knew it was true. “Digital is a different beast, a different type of writing. You’re meant for long-form. You’re a read-over-coffee journalist, one who digs deep into a story and gets the real news out of it.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not. For print. But digital… It's about attention-grabbing articles. Short, to the point. Sitting-in-the-dentist-office news, where our readers may only get five minutes at a time to digest world events.”
“I can do that.” I sat forward on the edge of my chair, willing to do whatever it took to keep this job. “I can write anything. You just have to give me a chance.”
He paused for a long moment. “Do you read fiction, Talia?”
“Sometimes. I really prefer nonfiction though.” I didn’t have a lot of time, so while I enjoyed reading, I used it to learn, to gather background on events I wrote about, relevant histories.
“The most popular genre in the world is romance.”
“Sir?” My brow furrowed. What did this have to do with my inability to do the job?
“You should read widely to understand what it is that captures a person’s attention. Romance, most of it, tends to engage a reader on an emotional level. They can see themselves in the story, see their desires, their experiences.”
“I’m not sure—”
“When you can write the news like a romance story, when you can engage an audience on a primal level, you can write for digital.”
“I can do that.” I knew I could. Write like a romance novelist? Easy, right?
