I was stumped for something to write about this month. I have been working on a book due to my editor next month. Plus, I need to review the edits for my mother’s first devotional. I’m so proud of her. I went on the hunt for something from my blog and came up short. However, I found something I thought would be good to share…my first published work.
I had the privilege of writing a piece for Christian Fiction Online Magazine (I don’t know if it’s still publishing). I remember being so excited at the opportunity. Looking back now, I see how different my writing is. I used to use this as a free download for new subscribers. I took it down, because it no longer represented my writing style. In looking at the publish date, I discovered it was the fourteenth anniversary of my first published writing piece. Talk about shocked. I can’t believe it’s been that long since I began my writing career.
Here’s my first short story. Tell me what you think. If you’ve read any of my current works, this will be extremely difference. Trust me, I won’t be offended by your comments. See you next month.
_____________________
CAREER REBORN
(Published 01.21.2010 Christian Fiction Online Magazine)
I had been wanting to quit my job for the past year and a half, but the timing was never right. But fortunately, that is no longer an issue. My boss was fired last week, and it seems likely that everyone on her team will be fired as well, leaving me, her assistant, or as she referred to me “The person she was forced to hire,” jobless.
I know God hears me when I pray, and I was trusting Him to show me what to do next. But in the meantime, I put on my favorite black Prada skirt and pumps, black cashmere sweater, and the floral print Hermes scarf my generous but scathing boss gave me for my last birthday, and grabbed my most recent Christmas gift from her, a black leather YSL Muse handbag. I figured mourning attire would be appropriate, since I was on my way to the funeral service for my dead career. I took one last look in the mirror, picked up my keys, and walked out the door, not quite sure how painful today’s meeting with Human Resources would be.
I treated every step of this morning’s walk to work like a funeral procession, absorbing everything in sight and unsure if I would travel down this street again. When I arrived at my office building, I rode the elevator with the rest of the people from my boss’s team, each of us quietly staring at the brass doors, trying not to look at one another. As the doors opened and we exited the elevator to our new futures, we were greeted by Marcy Gibbons, the head of Human Resources.
No greeting. No smile. Just her curt command: “Follow me.” Surely an omen of what was to come. She turned and led the way down the hall. We followed her into the conference room and took seats around the large oval mahogany table, waiting for the official word ending our time with the company. As we fidgeted in our seats, still avoiding eye contact, the door whooshed opened. Mr. Thomas, the head of the company, strode in. This was a first. In all the years I’ve worked here, I have never known him to personally fire anyone. He didn’t even fire my boss. He never lowered himself to deal with such menial tasks; he left those duties to Marcy.
He surveyed the room. “Good morning, everyone. As you know, Christina was let go, and after careful examination of your collective work, I have uncovered some rather interesting information.”
As his voice rumbled around the room, I looked over at Marcy, sitting as still as a statue.
“Marcy and I have come up with a plan to handle this unique situation.”
He cleared his voice and our eyes met. Instead of feeling nervous, I was very calm. Okay, God, hit me with it. I know whatever it is You have planned for me, You have also instilled in me everything I need to do it.
Marcy stood and walked around the table, handing everyone a packet with their names printed on the outside. When she came to me she walked past without giving me anything. Okay, I guess that means as Christina’s assistant I won’t be getting a severance package like every one else. I shifted a little in my seat and placed my hands in my lap. All eyes were on me, but I remained calm.
“Jillian Morgan.” A chill ran up my spine when Mr. Thomas called my name. “Sir.” When senior level executives are fired, it’s customary to fire their assistants as well. And in extreme situations, their entire team is demoted.
“You worked for Christina for five years, giving you access and insight to every account her team handled. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And is it true that among your many duties, you assigned the territories to each manager, developed the team strategies, composed the quarterly reports for upper management, and did the team’s bonus reviews?”
“Yes, sir.” I needed a good review for my next job, so if ever there was a time to toot my own horn, it was now.
His eyes locked on to mine. “Tell me, Jillian, when exactly did you start doing Christina’s job?” Busted. I thought my duties for Christina were a secret. Now I know I’m getting fired . . . and without severance.
“Uhm, I-I . . .” I cleared my throat and looked around the room at all of the people on Christina’s team. They all thought she was a genius, generous, and a dynamic leader. After all, every year the strategies the team had employed worked; they exceeded their goals and got big fat bonuses. “She had me . . . I mean . . . for the past four years.”
“I see.” He nodded his head and looked over at Marcy before continuing. “Come here, please.” I got up and walked over and stood next to him. “I have reviewed every report this team has filed in the past three and a half years and discovered the change in productivity occurred when Jillian arrived. I know you all thought you were being fired, but there’s been a change in plans. No one is being fired.”
A collective sigh resonated around the room.
“However, Jillian, you will no longer be allowed to stay on as an executive assistant.”
No surprise there. My stomach clenched.
“Instead, I am promoting you to Senior Director for this team.”
“Excuse me?” I couldn’t keep my mouth from hanging open as he extended his hand to congratulate me. How had I gone from a lowly assistant to Senior Director? Thank you, God. I shook my head trying to process everything. I looked around the room and everyone was smiling.
“There is nothing wrong with this team. You all work well together. And I believe with Jillian at the helm, you will continue to do even better. Keep up the good work.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thomas. We won’t let you down.” He shook my hand as everyone jumped to their feet and applauded. All I could do was try not to faint.
Dianna is a contributing author in the last three anthologies from The Bethlehem Writers Group, An Element of Mystery: Sweet, Funny and Strange Tales of Intrigue, Fur, Feathers, and Scales, Sweet, Funny and Strange Animal Tales and Untethered, Sweet, Funny & Strange Tales of the Paranormal. She has also contributed stories for the Bethlehem Writers Roundtable ezine, including “In the Delivery.”
Born and raised in the Midwest, Dianna has also lived in three other quadrants of the U.S. She writes short stories and poetry, and is working on a full-length novel about a young woman in search of her long-lost brother.
She is a member of Sisters in Crime, Horror Writers Association, The American Medical Writers Association, and The Bethlehem Writers Group, LLC.
Dianna also has a regular column here on A Slice of Orange, titled Quill and Moss, in which she frequently includes short fiction.
Below, you can also listen to Dianna read her short story, “Cold Front” from the GLVWG Writes Stuff anthology.
Tari Lynn Jewett lives in Southern California with her husband of nearly thirty years (also known as Hunky Hubby). They have three amazing sons, a board game designer, a sound engineer and a musician, all who live nearby. For over fifteen years she wrote freelance for magazines and newspapers, wrote television commercials, radio spots, numerous press releases, and many, MANY PTA newsletters. As much as she loved writing those things, she always wanted to write fiction . . . and now she is.
She also believes in happily ever after . . . because she’s living hers.
Tari’s newest title is Love and Mud Puddles, available now.
Hannah loves her accounting job, the condo that she purchased herself, and her best friend Melinda. What she doesn’t love is baking. To be fair, she’s never tried. But when her cousin shames her into bringing homemade cookies to the family Christmas Eve celebration, she begins a quest to make the perfect holiday cookie.
Paramedic Josh also occasionally teaches kids’ cookie baking classes at his family’s bakery. When a beautiful accountant mistakenly signs up for a children’s holiday baking class, he realizes immediately that she’s in the right place.
Can this local hero help to save Hannah’s Christmas? Or will it all go up in smoke?
we were wingless
until we knew love
our breathless breath
lifted us
into rainbows
eagle-like we soared
fearless and bold
flapping newfound wings
feathers soft as gossamer
and it was then
we understood
the lightness of being
©Neetu Malik
Creating a Writing Journal
I wanted to stop forgetting appointments and lunches with friends. I wanted to keep track of events days, weeks, months and even years into the future. After 18 months of watching YouTube videos, I discovered a minimalist system that has worked well for me. I’ve been bullet journaling (called Bujo on YouTube) for two years now. It has revolutionized and simplified my life.
The must dos for creating a personal journal are fairly simple:
And that’s it. Short, simple, and most of all, in one place.
Last year I decided to also create a Writing Journal. When I first started my writing journal, I kept track of how many hours I wrote each day. I no longer do this. I write incessantly. However, if you find that your writing time is being co-oped by your day-job, your family obligations, etc., you may wish to add a time-tracker to help you prioritize and regain control of your time.
My must have pages are:
YouTube has proven to be a fantastic reference for me to begin journaling. But I had to disregard a lot of what I saw. I do not decorate my journals. I am not overly picky. If I make a mistake or draw a line in the wrong place, I fix it and move on. I am definitely not a perfectionist. Some of the journals on YouTube are best described as works of art. My journal is a tool. I do the minimum amount of work needed to make my journals useful, and then I get back to writing.
Happy Writing!
Kidd
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