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CHAPTERONE
Alissa Lewis rested her elbows on her desk and massaged her temples, wishing the motion would dislodge the words she was looking for from her brain. It wasn’t working. The page on her screen was just as bare as before—just a single sentence that she needed to rewrite. At least it got to the point of what her article was supposed to be about.
Well, maybe. The article was supposed to be about a craft kombucha company that was growing in the Denver area, but the one sentence she had written made it sound so… blah. But when she talked to the company’s co-owners, their enthusiasm and passion was so interesting. It just wasn’t coming across on the page and she wasn’t sure of what to do.
Alissa heaved a sigh, earning her a glance from her coworker across the open floor plan. She shrugged in response and turned her attention back to the screen. Getting this job atEpic Newshad been Alissa’s dream ever since she picked up her first newspaper in high school. It was filled with engaging stories and in-depth articles on subjects that other papers didn’t always even cover, all put together in a surprisingly cool-looking package.
She had imagined the writers there living glamorous lives, typing away and finding out about burgeoning industries that Denver had to offer before everyone else.
That definitely wasn’t her reality—her workdays usually involved staring at a blank screen and trying to scrape words out of the depths of her brain as deadlines loomed over her head. She didn’t have the fun, challenging conversations with her coworkers that she’d hoped for, just petty rivalries and awkward talk about the coffee in the break room. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time that she talked to one of her coworkers beyond a hello. The most they interacted was through the sighs across the open floor plan.
On top of that, the big break she’d been hoping for was more of a small jump into the pond. But this was the newspaper industry. It took time to climb up the ladder to where she wanted to be and she had to stick it out.
Alissa pushed forward on her article, just trying to put words down. It was easier to edit something rather than nothing. That helped her in the rare moments when she wrote something for fun these days, but here it wasn’t helping that much. It was too late for a cup of coffee, so she tried to outline her work in the document, jotting down bullet points of the ideas she needed to include. That helped, at least a little.
But right when she got into a groove, she had to go to a meeting, and after that, a call with someone she planned to interview took up another hour of her time. By the end of the day, her brain felt dried up and she had gone from one sentence to several paragraphs, three of which she knew she’d have to delete later. That was a problem for future Alissa.
She saved her document twice for good measure, then put on her down jacket and gathered her things in her canvas tote bag. Even though this article wasn’t working out, she hoped the last one she had turned in, a story on a music industry conference, had impressed her boss, Stanley Rush. He was half the reason why she wanted to work atEpic. His articles were the most engrossing of all the staff writers by far. Every time Alissa wrote an article, she wanted to impress him. But that was a goal she rarely hit on the first try.
The article had been a struggle, much like the one she had worked on most of the day. Stanley hadn’t given her his feedback on it yet, but she felt it had come out okay. She’d gotten some great quotes from attendees that gave the article flavor. That was one of her favorite parts of the job—talking to people and getting their stories. Unfortunately, talking to people about their work or their companies often got her canned answers that had to be approved by some higher-ups before they got published.
On rare occasions, she got more earnest responses. Those always made her work so much easier, at least most of the time. Being able to tap into someone’s excitement about what they loved to do always spurred her on. She just wished that she could figure out how to take the kombucha guys’ passion and put it into words.
She shook off thoughts of work, especially since it was Friday. All she wanted to do was get home and eat a big, warm bowl of soup in front of the TV. It wasn’t the most exciting evening, but it was just what she needed. She was a relatively solitary person in general, mostly spending nights in. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d gone on a date, not that she was necessarily looking for love.
“Alissa,” Stanley said as she passed by his office on her way out. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Her stomach dropped when she saw the seriousness of his expression. “Sure, of course.”
She stepped inside of his office. Unlike her glorified cubicle, Stanley’s office had a million dollar view of Denver. Even the heavy clouds and snow that everyone expected in early January didn’t take away from its beauty—the lights of the city shined through the darkness, creating an almost cozy feeling in the modern style of the office’s decor.
Alissa gently closed the door behind her and sat in one of the stylish, uncomfortable chairs in front of Stanley’s desk. She resisted the urge to push her curls out of her face, wedging her folded hands between her thighs. Even though she had worked for Stanley for a few years, she still found him slightly intimidating. He was tall and imposing, with an angular face that made him look stern even when he was in a good mood. Plus, he was incredible at what he did. Scrutinizing her work with his skilled eye always cranked up her nerves.
“I wanted to talk to you about your last two articles—the one that was published and the one you just turned in.” Stanley folded his hands together and rested them on his desk. “The one that was published in our previous issue wasn’t well-received.”
A knot tightened in Alissa’s chest. “Oh. Um, what did people say about it?”
“It was more of what they didn’t say,” he said. “The engagement for the online piece was down, especially in comparison to the other articles that came out on the same day.”
Alissa swallowed, unsure of what to say. Had people really not liked it at all? She thought the headline was catching. Stanley had her rewrite it enough times. At least everyone agreed that a great headline was hard to write, so she wasn’t the only one who struggled.
“And unfortunately, I was reading over the draft of the article on that music industry conference and it isn’t hitting the mark either.” Stanley sighed through his nose, looking down at his hands.
“Oh, okay. I’m happy to put in as much work as you need me to,” Alissa said. “In what way did I miss the mark?”
The idea of putting in even more edits made her heart sink. It wasn’t that she believed she was above criticism. Every writer was better with an editor. It was just that there was a big difference between needing to make some tweaks to an article, a feat she hadn’t achieved in ages, and missing the mark. Missing the mark meant rewriting almost the whole thing from scratch.
“It was a little too small.” Stanley gestured with his hands, as if the article were literally tiny. “Too focused on the individuals and not the big picture. The epic aspects of it, for lack of a better term. It needs to show how big the industry is.”
“Right.” The lump in Alissa’s throat grew. “I’ll fix it over the weekend.”
“There’s no need for that.” Stanley took a deep breath and said, “I don’t believe you’re a good fit forEpicanymore, so we can hand it over to someone else.”
Alissa blinked several times, trying to absorb what he’d just said. She understood the words individually, but collectively, her brain couldn’t process them.
“I’m not a good fit anymore?” she asked, her voice small.
“No. I believe you’ll do better elsewhere, but we’ll have to end our relationship with you and let you go.” Stanley’s features softened. The rare sight made Alissa feel even more detached from the reality of the situation. “I’m sorry. I’ll send over the details of your severance package right now.”
