Life Itself

Hes a writing connoisseur with a need for perfection. No ones ever gotten close to him; how could they? they're never as perfect as the stories, the novels, the magazine covers, the stories that never change. Then one day, an intern whos hair and desk are in a constant state of disarray comes to his writing company. The connoisseur is going half mad with this walking embodiment of chaos; so why cant he stand the thought of the intern leaving at the end of their assistance ship?

(side note, i've never written anything before, so don't expect it to be too professional. i plan on a very nice plot though, it's just hard to express lol)