Color my life

Chapter One

*Disclaimer I do not own any of the characters in this story, nor do I own any allusions that I may make to the show itself. All characters belong to ABC and their writers*

Emma sat in the middle of her art studio, staring intently at the blank canvas. Nothing was coming to her. It was as if the creative juices that had brought her out into the studio had stopped flowing. She needed to paint. She needed to paint with every fiber of her being. Every emotion was screaming, begging to be made into her latest masterpiece. But it was no use, a cork had been placed on her creativity and nothing was going to come through.
The New York Times was doing a piece on the youth of the area and what they were bringing to the community. This weeks segment happened to be the art scene and of all the artists they could have chosen, they chose Emma Swan. Why her?  There were so many other great artists in New York. Including her best friend Ruby Lucas. So, why did they have to choose her? There was so much pressure that it made her sick to her stomach.
She took a deep breath and took a long swig of the bottle of gin that sat next to her easel.

Just as she thought all was lost, it hit her....

"I'll paint a swan."
She said to herself in the evening air. Yeah it was a bit cliche, but at this point she was desperate.

*Regina's P.O.V*

I sat at my computer, staring at the blinking cursor before me. The deadline for my peice on the local art scene was in three days and I hadn't even set up a meeting with the girl I was supposed to interview.
My nerves were clawing at my chest.

You can't screw this up Mills. You can't screw this up Mills.

I mumbled this mantra to myself over and over again, knowing very well that if I did screw up, my career would be over. This was my first solo peice and I needed to make a splash if I was going to get that promotion.

I sighed and decided that I would call up the girl to set up an interview. How hard could it be? I wasn't the most social person in the world, but talking to a teenager shouldn't be that difficult. I picked up my phone and dialed the number that I had scribbled onto a sticky note.

Ring

"Okay, Regina. You can do this."

Ring

"It's just asking for an interview."

Ring

"Maybe she won't answer and all I have to do is leave a message."

There was a click, then silence

"Hello?"

It was the voice of a girl.

"Is this Emma Swan?"

I asked.

"It is, how can I help you?"

Phew. That was the hard part now I only had to go through the pre-written speech that I had prepared for this situation.

"Hello Emma, My name is Regina Mills. I work for The New York Times. I was hoping that I could set up an interview time with you for the story that we are doing about your art."

I heard her audibly sigh as I spoke. Did she not want to do this? Well, it didn't matter, I needed this interview. She was doing it whether she liked it or not.

"Can we do it tomorrow at say.... 5:00?"

That was easy. I let out a deep breath that I hadn't realized I had holding.

"That sounds great, Ms. Swan. I will see you then."

There was a silence on the other line, which made me a tad bit uncomfortable. Since there was nothing left to say, I quickly hung up.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I took out my date book and wrote down the time of the interview so I wouldn't forget. This interview, if it went well, could be my big break into the world of journalism. I needed this desperately. I wanted to prove to my mother that doing this job was not a waste. That I had what it took to do what I love and be successful at it. Though, she always told me that love was weakness and that power was all that I needed to be happy. I didn't believe any of that. I just wanted to write. Simple. As I prepared my questions that I would be asking Emma tomorrow, I hoped that she wasn't right.

*Emma's P.O.V*

Shit. I thought to myself as I continued to paint. That lady from the newspaper was coming tomorrow at 5:00. I was no where near done, but it was certainly coming along much better than I had expected. It was as if every single worry that I had was pouring out onto the page, but instead of tuning into something hideous, it was beautiful.
The swan I was painting looked as if it were about to fly off of the page, which was exactly what I was looking for. Maybe this wasn't going as bad as I thought. Then again, the art wouldn't be asked questions about what inspired it or why didn't it do something more productive with it's college degree. No. That was all me. And if I wasn't prepared for those questions, I would surely become the laughing stock of the art community. Even my best friend, Ruby, would never let me live this down if I blew it. I guess there was more on the line for me than I had originally thought.

I took a deep breath and continued to color the wings. There was something ironic about this piece. I was the greatest source of my stress, but it was also my greatest stress reliever. I felt a thousand times more calm with the smock around my waist and the paintbrush in my hand than anywhere else. This was good. As long as I kept calm and focused on the love I have for the art and my own personal pieces, I would be fine. After all, the pride and love I have for my work is all that really matters right? 

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you like this new story idea. I know that Swanqueen is a dead ship, but I plan to go down with this ship and will continue to write about one of the best ships in all of the OUAT fandom. Anyway, I hope you like it. As of now, it is just an idea. Let me know in the comments if you like it and would like me to continue. I love you guys! Happy reading!

                                                                                                                      -Liz