I'm not a morning person, and I've come to terms with that part of myself. But being sleep-deprived and receiving a work email from my editor bugging me about my latest draft feels like a cruel joke from the universe.
The subject line alone makes me groan: "Urgent Revisions Needed." I rub my eyes and open the email, the screen's bright light feeling like an attack on my senses. It's filled with sharp critiques and a demand for changes by the end of the day.
I set my coffee down and type a quick, annoyed response.
To: skylaraurther@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Urgent Revisions Needed*
Hi Aurther,
I see your comments. I'll make the changes, but can we discuss some of these points? Some of the feedback seems a bit... harsh.
I hit send, fully aware thatAurther's idea of a discussion usually resembles a monologue. In hindsight, I should have taken his initial warning—"Don't take things personally"—more seriously when he sent that ridiculous list in our first email exchange.
Within minutes, my inbox pings with a reply.
To: hope.abrams@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Urgent Revisions Needed**
hope,
Harsh? I'm simply ensuring your work is the best it can be. Deadlines are looming, and we need this done.
I roll my eyes and start typing again.
To: skylaraurther@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Urgent Revisions Needed**
I understand deadlines, but there's a difference between constructive criticism and nitpicking every sentence. Can we at least prioritize the major changes first?
The response is swift.
To: hope.abrams@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Urgent Revisions Needed**
All changes are important. Let's aim for excellence, not just completion.
I take a deep breath, resisting the urge to throw my laptop out the window. Instead, I type back.
To:skylaraurther@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Urgent Revisions Needed**
Understood. I'll get started right away and see what I can do
I shut my laptop and lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples. Why does every interaction with Aurther feel like a battle? At this point, it almost felt like he was the author and I was the editor, not the other way around.
As I sipped my now lukewarm coffee, I mentally prepared myself for a long day of revisions. Despite the petty email exchange, there was a part of me that knew Aurther was pushing me to be better. It's just hard to appreciate it at the crack of dawn.
With a sigh, I opened my laptop again and dived into the manuscript, ready to tackle the edits. The day ahead feels daunting, but I reminded myself that I've faced worse. And who knows? Maybe this chapter will be the one that finally clicks.
Hours later, I'm still hunched over my laptop, the pages of my manuscript transforming under my tired eyes. Each keystroke felt like a minor victory as I tackled Aurther's feedback point by point. It's a slow process, and the clock on the wall seems to mock my efforts as the minutes crawl by.
YOU ARE READING
Clocked Heart
RomanceJune Abrams is a famous anonymous Author trying to live her childhood dream in a small town with her best friend away from everyone pursuing the career she always loved but alongside her trying to find happiness in her bubble comfort zone, fate has...
