Dannyp03
02-03-2012, 03:59 PM
As the sun rose on a gloriously crisp cold Sunday morning, the people of Birchwood village were waking to another day in their newly voted town of the year. Christmas was looming and the holiday spirits were spreading throughout. But for some, the holidays were simply a time for relaxing, being alone at home with a cup of tea watching the cat destroy the Christmas tree, whilst watching the rest of the town stock up on presents and food, these people found the holidays (if you can call being packed in a shopping centre for four hours buying things you don’t need a holiday) a little tedious, a bit too routine. One such person was John York, a recently turned middle aged divorcee and now also unemployed writer whose life just hadn’t quite turned out the way he wanted it to. John lives in a town where perfection is praised and imperfection (something of which John is the new description of in the dictionary) is severely frowned upon. What he needed was something to push him the right direction, a sign, new surroundings which could change his life (maybe), to move somewhere exciting; somewhere with opportunities; somewhere... imperfect!, New York perhaps?
He didn’t have much family, save a couple of aunts and a few cousins scattered around the country so moving to New York to begin his American dream was something that could be done with not much hassle, so he packed a case and that was it, John York of Birchwood, Kent in little England was going to the big apple to start a new life.
Being a writer, John knew some people who worked for the local newspaper, or he thought it was the small local newspaper, but somehow the New York Times doesn’t quite strike many as being a small paper.
He met his contact at the paper the day after he landed and the day after that he got a call saying he had an interview for a junior journalist at the New York Times. One of the editors of the paper had recently read his short story the he wrote for the London Times, which was thrown away by the London editors because of its being ‘mediocre writing for a newspaper’. The Americans however seemed to like his work and gave John a weekly article in the paper, to ‘write a compelling weekly short story to captivate readers’ minds’.
“Your talents as a writer obviously weren’t recognised in your home town Mr York, but I think you’re going to fit in just right here in New York” – “Mr Hudson - Johns’ contact who set up the job-find somewhere Mr York here can work, and then get me a coffee would ya” and then speaking to John “want one?”
“Um, no I’m fine thank you” he said.
New York was everything John had set his heart to believing it would be. The ambition in this city so far exceeded that of little Birchwood town that John couldn’t believe that anyone would want to live there over here. He got back to his hotel that night and speaking to himself said “You’ve done it Johnny, someone’s finally noticed you, and in New York of all places, who would’ve thought”.
The next day, fine, beautiful sunshine and the wind gently brushing the trees in Central Park just so it could be noticed, John set off for work in the happiest mood and with the swiftest bounce in his walk that he didn’t even recognise himself. Getting to the paper he noticed that the editor who he had spoken to the previous day was absent and someone else sat in his office. Someone quite different to yesterdays’ boss, she sat there looking confident and seemed to bring new light to the room, the lady sitting now called for John to come and see her.
“Hi, my name is Lucy Ravens and I’ll be replacing your previous boss from now on, and you are?” “John York, nice to meet you, if you don’t mind I’ll give you this piece now?” she looked at him in a pleased way and said “Thank you I’ll have a look through it, come back in an hour ok” she smiles and he leaves the office.
‘That’s interesting’ he thought as looked back at his new boss one more time. ‘I haven’t had that feeling meeting a woman for the first time since my ex-wife’. Her eyes were golden brown with hair to match that flowed gently across her shoulders like a silk scarf, she smelt- John thought- like summer- if summer had a set smell- and her whole look and the air around her seemed fresh, something that John needed in his life, someone new that seemed to brighten a room up with her just being present. As soon as he thought this he knew he was in trouble; an Editor of The New York Times would never go out with a man who has been working at the paper for less than a week and only has one article a week to submit, it’s unheard of.
After waiting about an hour for her to read and correct his piece John returned to Lucy’s office and eagerly awaited her response. “It’s good, not great, and great is really what I’m looking for but this is good start. How long did you say you’ve worked for the paper?” He replied in a nervous tone, “I didn’t, but now that you ask, this is my second day here.” “Oh well that’s quite a different situation, only been here one full day and writes like this, I think we can be expecting really quite exceptional things from you Mr York” she said this whilst turning her chair to face her computer, and John, knowing that this meeting was over slowly walked backward a few feet, turned, and left the room with a feeling of success that he had produced a good piece of work, not great, but good, something he had never before heard of his work. This is the moment when his life would start to come together. It was only the very beginning but a good start at a fresh start is what he wanted and it’s what he got.
Johns work wasn’t published that day, but for future reference Lucy put it to one side and made a note to herself that one day she’d come back to it and see what progress he made. Thinking aloud to herself she wondered what would make someone from England, home of some very prestigious papers come all the way to America to ‘make it’ as a writer; “why would he come here? Why would he risk his career to come to New York to make it as a writer? What incentive has he for doing this? Maybe I’ll ask him, maybe; or not.” This thought recurred in her mind for the rest of that day, with Johns’ first piece of work sitting beside her a little rugged from being read about ten times during the day. It was strange how the Editor of a newspaper would fixate her mind on one piece of work from just one employee.
Six months went on with John’s word steadily improving and Lucy’s opinion of him growing by the day. John finally one day managed to do something he had wanted to do ever since he started working for Lucy; pluck up the courage to ask her out. He’d realised that Americans have a much more relaxed point of view when it came to relationships and so after becoming a nervous wreck over night worrying about what she would say, and having her the next day saying yes immediately he was a little taken back by it. Lucy didn’t remind him of his ex-wife but reminded him of the feelings that someone could have for someone else, she was the clear spark -he thought- that he needed to start his love life off again, and to forget about his ex.
He got to Lucy’s apartment still feeling nervous about how she would find the evening and was constantly going over in his mind how he was going to start when she opened the door.
Thinking to himself ‘Hello, Hello, Hi, Hey- definitely the third one, yes the third one’ but as soon as she opened the door his Hello greetings had gone completely out the window and he managed to say not one of them. His first words when seeing her standing there were not Hello or Hi but simply and quite to the point “so where would you like to go?” as soon as he said this se realised that it was a stupid question because he had already booked a table for a meal at a very expensive and highly thought of restaurant, “no don’t answer that, I know we’re going for dinner, I’m just a little nervous is all” smiling shyly.
Lucy grabbed her coat from the hook and with a little rush out of the door “shall we” and they got in to the waiting cab and went to the restaurant with John’s dignity slightly bruised after his embarrassing slip up of the nights’ plans.
During dinner, rather unexpectedly, Lucy began talking of John’s piece of work that he had produced six months ago, asking him very excitedly whether he wouldn’t mind doing a re-draft of it for her because she wanted to be able to print it in the next weeks’ paper.
“I’ll have a look at it if you want me to” he couldn’t quite figure why she would want to talk about work in the middle of a date but was quite flattered that she had kept his work so long and still thought about it. “It’s just, it was a good piece, but a little scrappy here and there. If you could neaten it up a little and give it back to me I’d very much like to publish it in next weeks’ paper at some point”. “I’d love to; it’s a real big pleasure to know that you still think of my work all these moths after I wrote it”. She wasn’t looking at him when he said this but was taking a sip of wine; then looking up and swallowing her drink said “ think nothing of it, I always like giving someone who has potential a little helping hand, and for you it’s extra important because I have feelings for you. I’ve known for a while now but I always assumed work would get in the way of it all, but you asked me how could refuse” smiling and taking another drink of wine in a sort of celebratory manner like she was proud that John had asked her out, not feeling intimidated by her status at the paper, as some men previously in her life had done.
*
After working at the paper for a full year; and working his way up the ranks to a fully-fledged writer for the New York Times John York sat in his new office and pondered over his next piece that he would write. Thinking to himself rather more seriously than usual ‘somehow I’ve only been working here for a year and it feels like inspiration came to me so much easier when I first started’, “Lucy, hun can you come here for a bit, I need your expertise for the piece you want!”; Sitting in the adjacent office to Johns Lucy came straight in and offered him some inspiration. “Thanks, I needed that; you amaze me you know, how you can simply think of something to write so quickly, how do you do it? She replied in a confident and laughing tone and gently tapping her nose as if to say in a joking sense, you’ll never find out said “I guess I’m just that good”
One week had passed since Johns writers block and Lucy called him in to her office to tell him what she thought of his work; she liked to still constantly give advice for him to keep in mind for his work even though he knew what he was doing now in quite a professional way now, it was also because she like to show some sort of power in their relationship. “This is one of the best pieces anyone has ever submitted to me Johnny; nothing I have been given this month even comes close to comparing to its style and finish”
He didn’t say anything but simply smiled at her with a gleaming gaze that for some reason was quite new to Lucy, he walked out of the room and although the day wasn’t over and although his career had years to come where his work would be appreciated and knocked in equal quantities he knew that his quest was over; his quest to produce something extraordinary for someone. England was in the past now and his future lay here, with Lucy, New York and his new found love, The Times.
He didn’t have much family, save a couple of aunts and a few cousins scattered around the country so moving to New York to begin his American dream was something that could be done with not much hassle, so he packed a case and that was it, John York of Birchwood, Kent in little England was going to the big apple to start a new life.
Being a writer, John knew some people who worked for the local newspaper, or he thought it was the small local newspaper, but somehow the New York Times doesn’t quite strike many as being a small paper.
He met his contact at the paper the day after he landed and the day after that he got a call saying he had an interview for a junior journalist at the New York Times. One of the editors of the paper had recently read his short story the he wrote for the London Times, which was thrown away by the London editors because of its being ‘mediocre writing for a newspaper’. The Americans however seemed to like his work and gave John a weekly article in the paper, to ‘write a compelling weekly short story to captivate readers’ minds’.
“Your talents as a writer obviously weren’t recognised in your home town Mr York, but I think you’re going to fit in just right here in New York” – “Mr Hudson - Johns’ contact who set up the job-find somewhere Mr York here can work, and then get me a coffee would ya” and then speaking to John “want one?”
“Um, no I’m fine thank you” he said.
New York was everything John had set his heart to believing it would be. The ambition in this city so far exceeded that of little Birchwood town that John couldn’t believe that anyone would want to live there over here. He got back to his hotel that night and speaking to himself said “You’ve done it Johnny, someone’s finally noticed you, and in New York of all places, who would’ve thought”.
The next day, fine, beautiful sunshine and the wind gently brushing the trees in Central Park just so it could be noticed, John set off for work in the happiest mood and with the swiftest bounce in his walk that he didn’t even recognise himself. Getting to the paper he noticed that the editor who he had spoken to the previous day was absent and someone else sat in his office. Someone quite different to yesterdays’ boss, she sat there looking confident and seemed to bring new light to the room, the lady sitting now called for John to come and see her.
“Hi, my name is Lucy Ravens and I’ll be replacing your previous boss from now on, and you are?” “John York, nice to meet you, if you don’t mind I’ll give you this piece now?” she looked at him in a pleased way and said “Thank you I’ll have a look through it, come back in an hour ok” she smiles and he leaves the office.
‘That’s interesting’ he thought as looked back at his new boss one more time. ‘I haven’t had that feeling meeting a woman for the first time since my ex-wife’. Her eyes were golden brown with hair to match that flowed gently across her shoulders like a silk scarf, she smelt- John thought- like summer- if summer had a set smell- and her whole look and the air around her seemed fresh, something that John needed in his life, someone new that seemed to brighten a room up with her just being present. As soon as he thought this he knew he was in trouble; an Editor of The New York Times would never go out with a man who has been working at the paper for less than a week and only has one article a week to submit, it’s unheard of.
After waiting about an hour for her to read and correct his piece John returned to Lucy’s office and eagerly awaited her response. “It’s good, not great, and great is really what I’m looking for but this is good start. How long did you say you’ve worked for the paper?” He replied in a nervous tone, “I didn’t, but now that you ask, this is my second day here.” “Oh well that’s quite a different situation, only been here one full day and writes like this, I think we can be expecting really quite exceptional things from you Mr York” she said this whilst turning her chair to face her computer, and John, knowing that this meeting was over slowly walked backward a few feet, turned, and left the room with a feeling of success that he had produced a good piece of work, not great, but good, something he had never before heard of his work. This is the moment when his life would start to come together. It was only the very beginning but a good start at a fresh start is what he wanted and it’s what he got.
Johns work wasn’t published that day, but for future reference Lucy put it to one side and made a note to herself that one day she’d come back to it and see what progress he made. Thinking aloud to herself she wondered what would make someone from England, home of some very prestigious papers come all the way to America to ‘make it’ as a writer; “why would he come here? Why would he risk his career to come to New York to make it as a writer? What incentive has he for doing this? Maybe I’ll ask him, maybe; or not.” This thought recurred in her mind for the rest of that day, with Johns’ first piece of work sitting beside her a little rugged from being read about ten times during the day. It was strange how the Editor of a newspaper would fixate her mind on one piece of work from just one employee.
Six months went on with John’s word steadily improving and Lucy’s opinion of him growing by the day. John finally one day managed to do something he had wanted to do ever since he started working for Lucy; pluck up the courage to ask her out. He’d realised that Americans have a much more relaxed point of view when it came to relationships and so after becoming a nervous wreck over night worrying about what she would say, and having her the next day saying yes immediately he was a little taken back by it. Lucy didn’t remind him of his ex-wife but reminded him of the feelings that someone could have for someone else, she was the clear spark -he thought- that he needed to start his love life off again, and to forget about his ex.
He got to Lucy’s apartment still feeling nervous about how she would find the evening and was constantly going over in his mind how he was going to start when she opened the door.
Thinking to himself ‘Hello, Hello, Hi, Hey- definitely the third one, yes the third one’ but as soon as she opened the door his Hello greetings had gone completely out the window and he managed to say not one of them. His first words when seeing her standing there were not Hello or Hi but simply and quite to the point “so where would you like to go?” as soon as he said this se realised that it was a stupid question because he had already booked a table for a meal at a very expensive and highly thought of restaurant, “no don’t answer that, I know we’re going for dinner, I’m just a little nervous is all” smiling shyly.
Lucy grabbed her coat from the hook and with a little rush out of the door “shall we” and they got in to the waiting cab and went to the restaurant with John’s dignity slightly bruised after his embarrassing slip up of the nights’ plans.
During dinner, rather unexpectedly, Lucy began talking of John’s piece of work that he had produced six months ago, asking him very excitedly whether he wouldn’t mind doing a re-draft of it for her because she wanted to be able to print it in the next weeks’ paper.
“I’ll have a look at it if you want me to” he couldn’t quite figure why she would want to talk about work in the middle of a date but was quite flattered that she had kept his work so long and still thought about it. “It’s just, it was a good piece, but a little scrappy here and there. If you could neaten it up a little and give it back to me I’d very much like to publish it in next weeks’ paper at some point”. “I’d love to; it’s a real big pleasure to know that you still think of my work all these moths after I wrote it”. She wasn’t looking at him when he said this but was taking a sip of wine; then looking up and swallowing her drink said “ think nothing of it, I always like giving someone who has potential a little helping hand, and for you it’s extra important because I have feelings for you. I’ve known for a while now but I always assumed work would get in the way of it all, but you asked me how could refuse” smiling and taking another drink of wine in a sort of celebratory manner like she was proud that John had asked her out, not feeling intimidated by her status at the paper, as some men previously in her life had done.
*
After working at the paper for a full year; and working his way up the ranks to a fully-fledged writer for the New York Times John York sat in his new office and pondered over his next piece that he would write. Thinking to himself rather more seriously than usual ‘somehow I’ve only been working here for a year and it feels like inspiration came to me so much easier when I first started’, “Lucy, hun can you come here for a bit, I need your expertise for the piece you want!”; Sitting in the adjacent office to Johns Lucy came straight in and offered him some inspiration. “Thanks, I needed that; you amaze me you know, how you can simply think of something to write so quickly, how do you do it? She replied in a confident and laughing tone and gently tapping her nose as if to say in a joking sense, you’ll never find out said “I guess I’m just that good”
One week had passed since Johns writers block and Lucy called him in to her office to tell him what she thought of his work; she liked to still constantly give advice for him to keep in mind for his work even though he knew what he was doing now in quite a professional way now, it was also because she like to show some sort of power in their relationship. “This is one of the best pieces anyone has ever submitted to me Johnny; nothing I have been given this month even comes close to comparing to its style and finish”
He didn’t say anything but simply smiled at her with a gleaming gaze that for some reason was quite new to Lucy, he walked out of the room and although the day wasn’t over and although his career had years to come where his work would be appreciated and knocked in equal quantities he knew that his quest was over; his quest to produce something extraordinary for someone. England was in the past now and his future lay here, with Lucy, New York and his new found love, The Times.