Log in
The Journalist - Red Hills Book 2 - Prologue
PROLOGUE
“Have you heard about what has been happening in Red Hills?”
Megan sighed, exasperated by another inquiry from her tenacious office-mate. But, if she was being honest, it was a welcomed distraction from writing another dull piece about a local business opening.
“That little town off of exit 49? Why would anyone go there?”
“See…that’s the thing…” Jennifer leaned in conspiratorially. “People don’t want to go there. But it’s a well-known shortcut, and I’ve been getting reports about some weird things happening this year.”
“Oh, you have been getting reports? From who, Jennifer? The poodle that you interviewed last week?”
“I didn’t interview a poodle. That would be silly. I interviewed a Poodle Groomer who prepares animals for competition. And…see? This is the problem.”
Megan was already scrolling through her phone, one distraction spiraling into another. “Hmm?”
“We can’t keep writing these puff pieces forever, Megan. No one cares. No one is reading this shit. Don’t you want to do something valuable with your life? Something that matters?”
Megan didn’t even glance up from her phone. “Nah, not really. I like it here. Clock in, write a few stories, and go home. It’s easy work and no one bothers me…” She eyed Jennifer over their shared cubicle. “...most of the time.”
“I just can’t do it anymore. Puff pieces and all the boring incremental reporting as we keep updating stories that no one cares about. Did you hear that Monica is leaving?”
“Oh shit…really?” Megan put her phone down, suddenly interested. “She had such a good gig here. Picked up by national or heading to the city?”
“National. And I’m going to get her job. I’m done with this local news and updates bullshit. I will be a feature writer, and I know just the story to put me on the map.”
Megan sighed, exasperated by another inquiry from her tenacious office-mate. But, if she was being honest, it was a welcomed distraction from writing another dull piece about a local business opening.
“That little town off of exit 49? Why would anyone go there?”
“See…that’s the thing…” Jennifer leaned in conspiratorially. “People don’t want to go there. But it’s a well-known shortcut, and I’ve been getting reports about some weird things happening this year.”
“Oh, you have been getting reports? From who, Jennifer? The poodle that you interviewed last week?”
“I didn’t interview a poodle. That would be silly. I interviewed a Poodle Groomer who prepares animals for competition. And…see? This is the problem.”
Megan was already scrolling through her phone, one distraction spiraling into another. “Hmm?”
“We can’t keep writing these puff pieces forever, Megan. No one cares. No one is reading this shit. Don’t you want to do something valuable with your life? Something that matters?”
Megan didn’t even glance up from her phone. “Nah, not really. I like it here. Clock in, write a few stories, and go home. It’s easy work and no one bothers me…” She eyed Jennifer over their shared cubicle. “...most of the time.”
“I just can’t do it anymore. Puff pieces and all the boring incremental reporting as we keep updating stories that no one cares about. Did you hear that Monica is leaving?”
“Oh shit…really?” Megan put her phone down, suddenly interested. “She had such a good gig here. Picked up by national or heading to the city?”
“National. And I’m going to get her job. I’m done with this local news and updates bullshit. I will be a feature writer, and I know just the story to put me on the map.”
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Jennifer stood outside her editor’s door, trying to rustle up a last-minute pep talk to herself. She knocked and waited.
“Mrs. Stone, I want Monica’s job. I want to be your new feature writer.”
She let the line rattle around in her head as she practiced under her breath and waited until she was beckoned inside. She walked into the overcrowded office and took a seat across from her seasoned editor.
“Mrs. Stone, I want Monica’s job. I want to be your new feature writer.”
She let the line rattle around in her head as she practiced under her breath and waited until she was beckoned inside. She walked into the overcrowded office and took a seat across from her seasoned editor.
“Mrs. Stone, I…”
“Jennifer, do you have your story on the new coffee shop opening ready for print?”
“Oh, umm… yes, ma’am. I had that done first thing this morning. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Listen, Jennifer. I’ll cut to it. We aren’t going to be able to keep both you and Megan. You’ve probably noticed, but there just isn’t enough news to keep both of you on for local write-ups. And most of our audience is digital now. We need someone who can crank out articles, and I think it’s you.”
“Oh…ummm…thank you. But, Mrs. Stone, I’m actually here to talk about Monica’s job. I want to be your new feature writer.”
Jennifer expected a response. A resounding confirmation would have been nice. Thoughtful pondering or painful laughter were also options on the table. But she received nothing. Just a blank stare from her intimidating boss.
“No. You’re the best local writer we have. Tell Megan to come and see me.”
“No, please, Mrs. Stone. Monica isn’t leaving for a few weeks, right? Give me time to build a feature and show you what I can do. I have a lead. Let me follow up. Give me a chance.”
More silence. Stony cold, uncomfortable, nerve-wracking silence. Jennifer held the woman’s stare as long as she could, but finally caved and looked at her feet. Her leg tapped nervously against the matted office carpet.
“Jennifer, do you have your story on the new coffee shop opening ready for print?”
“Oh, umm… yes, ma’am. I had that done first thing this morning. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Listen, Jennifer. I’ll cut to it. We aren’t going to be able to keep both you and Megan. You’ve probably noticed, but there just isn’t enough news to keep both of you on for local write-ups. And most of our audience is digital now. We need someone who can crank out articles, and I think it’s you.”
“Oh…ummm…thank you. But, Mrs. Stone, I’m actually here to talk about Monica’s job. I want to be your new feature writer.”
Jennifer expected a response. A resounding confirmation would have been nice. Thoughtful pondering or painful laughter were also options on the table. But she received nothing. Just a blank stare from her intimidating boss.
“No. You’re the best local writer we have. Tell Megan to come and see me.”
“No, please, Mrs. Stone. Monica isn’t leaving for a few weeks, right? Give me time to build a feature and show you what I can do. I have a lead. Let me follow up. Give me a chance.”
More silence. Stony cold, uncomfortable, nerve-wracking silence. Jennifer held the woman’s stare as long as she could, but finally caved and looked at her feet. Her leg tapped nervously against the matted office carpet.
“Okay.”
“Wait…really? Thank you so much, Mrs. Stone. You won’t regre…”
“You believe in yourself enough to throw away an easy desk job, and I can respect that. But I also have a paper to run. I think you’re the better writer, but Megan can handle the job just fine. Nobody reads this shit anyway. I’m giving her the job. In three weeks, you will either be our new feature writer or you will be looking for a job, Jennifer. I hope you have what it takes.”
