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A British accent starts reading my words, and it helps me catch some things that just don’t hit the way they need to. Opening lines need to pack a punch. Setting the scene for the entire novel and what the reader can expect. So, I click on the comment button and type, Make this better. I idly stand by while it reads the entire first chapter, and I have so many things I need to tweak. A first draft is never going to be good enough to publish. At least mine. There might be writers who can write a first draft and it be publish worthy, but mine needs work. This draft was important and I need to focus on just getting words on the page, instead of taking the time to describe the setting, and develop my prose. This is what I need to perfect in my next draft, as well as fix any lingering plot holes or developmental issues that may have arisen over the course of writing this draft.
My phone buzzes. Her name comes up, and honestly, I have been trying to focus on getting some of this done this morning.
Leslie: You there?
I unlock my phone and open the thread to read her previous message.
Me: That's great! Yes, we will celebrate. We can order in. My treat.
It’s funny how things have worked out in our favor, and now I can enjoy nights with her by my side. We might have only known each other a short time, but it feels right.
Things are looking up for Leslie. Some people dream about being their own boss, and working for themselves, but it’s a lot of work. Not saying she can’t handle it, just things like health care and 401K aren’t really an option unless you set it up. With a normal job, that comes with it, and the company matches up to a certain percentage. I don’t want to damper her excitement for being self-employed, but I hope she thought about these things. They might not seem like a big issue now, but come when she’s sixty-years-old, it will be.
I let the British guy read the second chapter, and I make notes throughout, noticing where pacing is a little off, and wording could be better to pack a punch, but for the most part, I’m enjoying it. Why am I so hard on myself? As a Literature professor, people must think I’m like the know-it-all of English, and even I make mistakes. Fiction is an imaginative art through expression, and not every book is going to hit someone the same way.
Janet used to tell me, “Write the book you want to read, and they will come. Make your own world and do a deep dive into it to express yourself.”
Clearly, she had more faith in me than I do, but that’s objective. I just have to remember that I created this world inside these pages, and the only person that can tell this story is me. So, it’s my job to make it the best it can be, and then share it with everyone else. Others might not like it, but there will be a portion that will, and that’s what I need to be searching for.
I take the next two hours to listen to the chapters and make notes, and I have gone through the first six chapters and made extensive notes for revisions. This read aloud feature is actually quite productive. I don’t know if sitting down and reading to myself would have netted these results in such a timely manner. I check my watch and it’s already noon. Jesus.
The urge to text Leslie rides over me, and I shoot her a text.
Me: So, how was the last night of being a firefighter, Ms. Haddon?”
She said her dad might end up making her cry, but I hope he is more supportive than that. My parents have always been that way for me, and every child needs that. We want to make our parents proud, and some will go to great links to do so.
Leslie: Boring. We didn’t get a single call. So, I just worked on a script. Got another thirty pages or so done. Hoping to finish it today, and then I'll have two days before I have to start the next one.
Freelancing isn’t an easy job. Sure, everyone might think it is, but you have to be self-sufficient and be able to stay on task without having someone to hover over you. It’s not meant for everyone, but I think Leslie is going to do amazing.
Me: That’s great. So, what are your plans for today? Have you gotten some sleep yet?
I’ll have to leave for campus any minute, and she will be there, but I still want to check on her. Once the excitement wears off, the real work begins. She is going to kill it, but it will still be an adjustment. Going from having a strict work schedule, to working whenever you want is a change. Sure, you can set your own hours, but you still have to be productive and meet the deadlines for the clients. So, Leslie still has to be careful.
Leslie: Got a couple hours, and took some naps at the depot. See you on campus, Professor.
Maybe I shouldn’t like when she calls me professor, but I do. It shouldn’t be this exhilarating to sneak around with a student, but I have to be honest, I’m getting off on it. The only difference is she is around my age, and it started before the semester began, so it doesn’t make me feel as dirty.
My mind goes to pictures of Leslie in a school girl outfit, and I immediately try to get it out of my mind. She doesn’t need to dress up in outfits to appease me, I’ll take her naked any day of the week. It’s all going to come off anyway.
19
LESLIE
Things are looking up for me, and I’m officially self-employed. After a couple hours of sleep, I get out of bed, and ready for the day. Thank God it’s a Friday on top of that. The last day of classes with week, and then I can get some stuff done. I can’t blow this chance and need to make sure I stay on track. As my own boss, it’s up to me to stay on task and meet the deadlines.
As far as Noah’s class goes, I have already read Great Expectations a gazillion times, so I don’t have to read it again to put my two cents into the discussion or fill out a worksheet, so it’s left me room to work on the other classes assignments without being overloaded.
I change into some denim shorts and a Star Wars t-shirt and head to campus. The world appears differently to me now. One thing I’m looking forward to the most is not being a vampire. I can get out and enjoy things during the day, and anytime I want, without having to worry about not getting enough sleep or missing work. My laptop can go with me anywhere, and that means I can work from wherever I choose.
My feet hit the concrete, one after another, as I enter the quad and go straight to the English Hall for my morning meeting with Professor Mills. It feels weird to call him that, but as his teaching assistant, I do need to appear professional to others.
His office door is closed, and that’s not typical for him, so I knock. His voice tells me to wait a second and when he opens it, a man, probably another professor, walks out and he ushers me in.
“Good morning, Ms. Haddon,” he says, looking over my shoulder to see if we are in the clear.
“What the hell was that? He didn’t look happy?”
