Being promoted to Linda's editorial assistant last year at twenty-four made me feel like I was on top of the world. I thought that since I was so good at proofreading and editing, Linda would take me seriously as an author.
I thought I’d proven myself. But, I guess not. I feel liquid welling up in my eyes, so I attempt to distract myself. I glance down at the postcard on my desk. It arrived yesterday from my adventurous, world traveling aunt, Valerie.
The front image shows a flock of seagulls spread along the beach, staring out at the teal ocean with a woman in a floppy sun hat laughing as she walks in the shallow water. The bubbly font says, “Be crazy, be stupid, be silly, be weird, be whatever. Life is too short to be anything but happy.” The words scrape back and forth like two sticks rubbing together. My chest tightens. Faster and faster the sticks spin, and a tiny spark flickers. This piece of mail now seems like a sign from above.
Flipping it over, I reread my aunt’s message in her flowy script.
Hello Miss Chloe! I just got settled into my new cottage in the quaintest little beach town. Sunshine Shores is just as sweet as its name sounds. If you ever want to get away from the big city, come see me! Love you!
-Aunt Val
My parents are like me, responsible and put together. Or I guess, I’m like them. My aunt Valerie is not like any of us. She’s a free spirit. Always has been, which is why her and my mom’s relationship is continually rocky.
I, on the other hand, am drawn to Aunt Val’s carefree, optimistic, and whimsical nature. Plus I have two older brothers, so I often felt like the odd person out growing up. But, Aunt Val always made a point to make me feel special. Whenever she visited, she'd bring me trinkets and treasures. And, just like this one from Sunshine Shores, she'd send me postcards from all over the world.
Even though she's bounced from country to country, we've stayed close. We talk on the phone at least once a month, with texts and emails in between. After managing a retreat center in the Italian countryside for the last three years, she’s finally decided to settle down in the States…at least for a little while.
If you ever want to get away… Her words land softly in my wounded soul. I have never wanted to get away more. I’m disappointed that my work as an editorial assistant did nothing to help me in my goal of being a published author. I’m burnt out from reading page after page of other people’s masterpieces. I’m disenchanted by the words of the person I looked up to shredding my manuscript. I’m done.
The more I say it to myself, the more right it feels. “I’m done,” I repeat out loud.
“You’re done editing Landry’s manuscript?” My best work friend and fellow editorial assistant, Brittany Wilson, walks in.
“Ah… no.” I bite my bottom lip, trying to decide if I should embrace or deny this life-changing decision taking root in my mind.
She plops down in the chair across from my desk. “Oh… then what are you done with?”
I glimpse the idyllic image on the postcard once more and the words easily tumble out of my mouth.
“I’m done being an editorial assistant.”
Brittany leans in, “Shut up, you got promotedagain?”
Brittany is a few years older than me, and while the rest of the Senior Editorial Assistants threw shade my way when I moved up in the company so quickly, Brittany fully embraced me. We’ve been friends ever since she waved me over to sit next to her at our first editorial staff meeting.
I walk behind Brittany and close the door. In a hushed voice, I say, “No. I’m quitting.”
Brittany brings her hands to her cheeks. “You’re quitting? Why? What happened?”
I sigh and sit back in my cushy office chair. “It’s what didn’t happen.” My voice trails off.
No one knows about my dream of becoming an author. Not even Brittany…and I’m not about to tell her now. My rejected manuscript might as well be a carcass on the side of the road. Bringing it up would be sad and depressing. I don’t want her to pity me.
“Have…you…told Linda you’re quitting?” Brittany’s words are so quiet it’s almost like she’s gasping for air.
“No, I haven't told anyone. You’re the first.”
“I know Linda’s a handful, but I didn’t realize you were so unhappy.”
I pause to come up with a true but vague explanation for my sudden desire to quit. “I need a change. Mountain View Press was my first job out of college. I need—” what did Linda say? “Life experience.”
“You can’t leave me.” Brittany sighs dramatically as she sits in a chair across from me. “Who am I going to go on coffee runs with? Or discuss my latest romance novels with? Who’s gonna point out all the plot holes and flaws, huh? Plus, you’re the only person in this office who doesn’t speak in polite pleasantries constantly. If I hear someone ask ‘how are you’ one more time while jogging past me, I’m gonna scream.”
That makes me crack a smile. “I’ll miss you too.”
Brittany puts her elbows on my desk. “So, what’s your plan?”
"I'm thinking about moving to the beach." I slide the postcard to her.
