This is a First

It was just last week, after 4 years of trying to finish this story. It was my first story I had ever written and I wanted it to be a first class seller. Something that would catch people's attention. I wanted for everyone to see just what I could do. The story was called The Last Jump and it was about a Man who jumped through time to fix others lives, due to the punishment he received from the government. I nervously walked up to the counter, story in hand. " Hello Miss. Can I help you?" The male behind the counter said humbly. " Oh yes. I came to get my book edited and published. If you don't mind I would like to speak to someone who can help with that. " The male looked up and smiled softly. " Sure I will have someone with you shortly. Please take a seat." I sat down in the chair that was across the way from the desk. My fingers tapped nervously on the papers that lay on my lap. 

   When I finally got called in the male that sat in front of me began to speak, " Miss. Evangeline Sinclair, I was informed that you are here about a story you want to get edited and published. Mind if I look it over?" I simply shook my head and handed over the work that I had done. He briefly looked it over and decided that he would like to spend more time reading it over. He sent me home and I was so nervous I just couldn't sleep. By the time the next day came I still hadn't heard anything back. Days went on and still nothing. I was so worried that he may have just looked at it and put it aside and chose not to do anything with it. I was worried that no matter how much I would have tried that I would have just wasted my time and effort. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into more weeks. The more days that went by the more worried I became. When I called, they simply told me he would contact me in due time. I felt like the storyline would at least be okay. However the days still went on. The time never stopped ticking, and neither did my unsettled nerves. I tried to stop thinking about it. I was starting to think more about the next story that I would like to have written. My thoughts slowly went into depression. The mood swings were becoming intense. I would much rather be a writer for life I want to succeed. I want to be an author. But... I can't stop thinking about what was holding up the publishing of the book. Was there too many errors? Too many flaws?I decided to settle my own worries by telling myself that it was probably the fact that the story was 40 chapters long. 40 chapters of a new life, a new story. There was a lot that had gone into writing the story that I forgot how long it would take someone normal to read it. I forgot that maybe he was taking his time to read through it to make sure that the writing wouldn't be something too awful. After all he was getting paid to critique my work and to make sure when it gets published that it would be worth every penny. 

There were moments of weakness where most my time was spent writing page upon page and then days of absolutely nothing. A week of writer's block here and there. A day of critiquing myself, " This won't do its too cheesy. " " This wont due it sounds like you didn't try hard enough and it looks sloppy. " . Effort and time poured into words splattered across the pages and screen. Coffee driven hours poured into the touch of the pen across the lines of the paper. There are many nights staring at the screen making sure that the spaces between the words were accurate and the spelling was breathtaking and uniquely worded. That even tho the stories weren't perfect they would be as close as I could get them. Yet the worry would always stay, The constant nervousness of releasing it to the public eye. The time and effort put into worrying could have been used towards something more efficient. I did my best to put my best foot forward. I lifted the laptop screen and began to type out the words " Chapter One:" My fingers got stuck, there was not a single thought as to what I was doing. There wasn't anything running down the line from the brain to the fingers. I couldn't let the non-existent words run anywhere. I am sure that I could probably find some sort of subject to write about but nothing came out. Nothing formed to get my mind off the possible fail of the story. So I began to take notes. How to be a better writer. How to write and be successful. How to keep writing when you have writers block. " Something that is inspirational. Something that would trigger an inspirational thought process." It said spread across the screen. " I will be successful, I will be able to do this.. My book will get published." I said it outloud to myself repeatedly. Til it made my feel comfortable. After several months having gone by I brushed my fingers along the screen of my phone and placed it in my pocket. A phone call came in shortly after doing so. " Hello, This is Evangeline Sinclair. " The voice on the other line began to speak softly, " Yes Miss. Sinclair. I was calling in regard to your book that you have come to us with. " I gasped in slight surprise and then cleared my throat and began to speak, " Oh yes. Hello. Hi. So what more is needed from me. " I heard a soft sigh and then he began to speak again. " I was curious if you would be willing to come in and talk about the edits I have done." I smiled softly and nodded as if he could see me. After a minute of two he spoke again, " Miss Sinclair? " Realizing how stupid I must have looked, I spoke softly," Oh yes. Sorry Yes I would love that. " When I got to my destination, I walked inside and asked to speak to the one holding my story. I was guided down the hall and straight to his door. I knocked ever so softly and waited. When I heard his voice say come in, I walked in and began to speak, " Mr. Devoroax. I am here about my story. " He looked up with a gentle smile and offered me to sit down. Upon sitting down he began to speak in a slightly more monotone like voice, " While going over your story I did some correcting of the sentences and grammar. There weren't very many mistakes but I thought you would like to thumb through and see if you like it then it would be ready to publish."  

I sat there thumbing through and everything seemed like it was good. So I returned the story to the desk and smiled gingerly. " I think it looks good. Was there anything else I would need to do?" He shook his head no and proceeded to call his assistant and asked him to take the book and have it published with the new corrections. I stood up and right as I was about to leave he tapped my shoulder and told me that he was glad he got to work with me. The worry I had was finally gone for good. The entire time I spent in fear of not succeeding did not pay off. I went home and began my works on yet another story, a story to fear if it would make it or if it would fail.