Deadline - Harry Styles AU

one

It's quiet. Except, among me, you can hear the thirty other writers in the room who type at a consistent speed. Each one of them hoping the column they're working on will be efficient enough to please Claudia. Our head editor and supervisor who announces a topic each month to captivate our readers and approves our articles before they get published.

I stare at my screen, wrinkling my nose and deleting words that used to be on the page. I've been here for hours. Yet, not one idea has come to me. Now it feels  like a waste of given space that should be given to someone who could actually do the job.

Since I was little, I've always loved writing and the idea of it. Being able to create your own little world with just a touch of your pen and a little imagination. Since then, I would write my own little stories that I'd never actually share with anyone but use as more of a secretive little hobby. When I was old enough to realize that people could do this for a living, that's when I aspired to be a writer.

However, reality is hitting me like a truck right now.

"Mara," I can hear someone call my name. My head perking up and I look around the room, seeing nothing but the hard concentrated faces around me that type furiously at their computers.

I bring myself to stare back at my keyboard, my fingers hovering over the letters, but not actually touching them.

One thing people never say about being a writer, is that no one will ever tell you how difficult it actually is from studying it your whole life, being at the top of my class at Princeton, my English professors always telling me how natural of a writer I am, to getting into the industry side of it and realizing how tough the work side of it really is.

"Mara," my name is called again but this time, it's more of a harsh whisper, louder than last time and it has me looking up again. This time when I look up, I know exactly who called my name.

"What!?" I say. "I'm already having enough trouble trying to write something. The last thing I need is to be caught distracting my colleagues." I whisper back harshly to Nicole.

"Have you written anything?" Her eyebrows furrow. "The column I was writing only took forty minutes?" She says, but slightly bragging because if it were that easy most of us would already be home and asleep.

"Easier said than done." I mumble, knowing Nicole is getting a laugh out of this. "I have no idea how to even start this piece." I explain my frustrations.

Nicole looks down at her keyboard, casually sliding her palm just above her mouth. I know she's trying not to laugh because the eye wrinkles give her away instantly. I shoot her a look before placing my head in palms.

Oh this is so much harder than I thought.

"I'm better now, okay." She waves herself down. "What was the topic you were trying to start on?" She asks.

"I was trying to be relatable and talk about advice for situations, that are you know?" I shrug my shoulders. "Relatable."

"Oh right, the advice column." She muses, again trying to sound humble but I know she finished that column in less than three hours and she's just trying to not rub it in my face.

"Well, what have you gone through." She asks suddenly, with a quirk of her eyebrows.

"Nothing interesting." I mutter, Nicole gives me another look.

"At all." I fidget with my mouse, pretending to be doing something when really, I'm just lost.

"Loss of a loved one?" Nicole suddenly asks. My eyes widen. "That's so personal why would anyone write about that?" I frown.