Page 53 of You Were Invited
Subject: Summer Issue Check In
Dear Miss Turner
I’m unsure if you’re currently experiencing personal difficulties, but the outrageous amount of errors in this document is more than I usually find in your assignments. This sloppiness is unacceptable. I suggest you take the time to refine your latest piece before submitting it again for final edits by the end of this week. I must be efficient, and I must have efficient writers for my magazine, too.
Yours, Leonard Princely
At the Root Level, Head Editor
Annie sat back in her chair, confused.
What was so bad about what I sent him?Peeved, she opened the document he had attached to the email.
The amount of red, stricken-out text flared her anger. But only when she begrudgingly agreed with the majority of the changes, did her indignation wilt into absolute horror. Her eyes bugged out, her cheeks flooding with shame.
It’s like I didn’t even see my own words when I proofread...
Another email in her inbox caught her eye. It was from a client that she worked with often, but hadn’t written for in almost two months. She’d reached out to see if they needed any work before the breakup. Their reply was succinct, and degrees cooler still than what Mr. Princely had iced her with.
To: Annie Turner
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re:Query
Dear Anne.
We’ve reviewed your query. The tone of your previous work isn’t a great fit for the fuutre direction of our publication.
Best of luck,
Maggie Johnson, Submissions
Annie wasn’t sure what hurt more — the lack of opportunity to conform to the new “tone” of the children’s entertainment magazine, or getting rejected by a twenty-five word letter that contained a typo.And they spelled my name wrong!Writing for Ranger Rabbit wasn’t typically an enormous chunk of her income, but the extra money had been good for covering gas expenses or small grocery trips. She’d also enjoyed writing energetic, lighter fare.
Well, that all blows.
She slumped heavily in her chair at the dining room table. Was this a fluke, or something deeper? Would her clients replace her?Hire one of hundreds of writers waiting in the wings, thirsty to take my assignments? Replace me with a robot? Maybe I deserve to be replaced if I’m losing my touch–
Her heart suddenly pounded uncomfortably in her chest.
Ugh, not a panic attack…
Bracing herself, she turned away from the table, clutched her arms, and put her head between her legs. She groaned, waiting for it to pass.
It took everything in me to get here, and now it’s slipping away. Maybe I’m not as good as I believe... Not to mention I’m essentially homeless unless I crawl back to Chris. Can I make it on my own?Rent was cheaper on the outskirts of Fort Walton, and she wouldn’t mind getting away from the hustle and bustle — as she had learned from her vacation.Then I’ll get a part-time job. Just in case.The very thought kicked her spirit. She loved that shecould avoid employee politics and the pecking order, and take time off when she needed to, but perhaps it was inevitable.But where? Fort Walton doesn’t need writers... that’s why I work from home!
She really did love writing.
But, if things continued the way they were going…
She sighed, frustrated.
Dear God, this is wearing me thin.
The cesspit of her fears and the trepidation that gripped her was driving her mad. The worst of the panic attack abated as she rubbed her upper arms and got up to drink a glass of ice water. She hated how the skepticism and dread sounded in her mind. But... reality was reality. And it stung.
I can’t give up, but... Well... but... maybe I can actually try to get a job cooking in a restaurant, though?
