I crumpled the next piece of paper that I had written down as many ideas as I could that afternoon when I had visited Central Park, in search for any type of writing inspiration. I turned off the lamp on my desk and walked over to my bed, though rumpled it was and fell onto my back into my comforter’s warmth and sighed. It had been five days ago. You think I would have gotten used to it by now, the usual dance. I had been here for two whole years and nothing had changed. True I had an apartment with bills to pay. I had two jobs. Two very unimportant, menial jobs, at least in my eyes. The truth was I didn’t come to New York to be a waitress and an underpaid secretary. I mean who comes to New York for that? I thought irritated. Maybe some people do. I shouldn’t be so judgmental. The fact of the matter was I had to come to New York for better things. I wanted more than anything in the world to branch out from my family obligation and become a famous novelist. But so far, no luck. I think I had been to at least thirty publishers in the past six months. Including one just recently on a day that was a little different then the others. I had to work overtime at the office that morning and was running late for my interview with anew publisher that afternoon, which would eventually reject my work as well. I wasn’t looking where I was going as the light changed and I dropped my favorite black bag that I always carried my stories and writing material in. But I was saved by an unknown stranger with a definite accent. The only thing I can really remember about him though was his smile and his eyes as he told me to be more careful in the future, but I haven’t seen him since. As fate would have it I did end up late for my appointment but the publisher was kind enough to see me anyway. However like always, he flipped through my pages of hardworking typed work and handed it back to me with a shake of his head.

“I’m sorry Miss Baxter. But we’re looking for stories with more” he paused as he thought and took his glasses to clean them, “Substance.”

“Well” I nodded with a halfhearted smile, “Thank you for your time anyway” I shook his hand and once more left another office feeling rejected and disappointed.

So perhaps the stranger who had saved me on the street was right after all. Was it right almost getting myself killed over that interview? Probably not. And so these many thoughts floated around my head as I lay on my bed and glanced at the clock on my bedside table that was near the photograph of my entire family back in Nebraska. I slowly lifted myself up from my comfort and took the frame in my hands staring at all their smiling faces. In particular my older sister, Jess.

You might as well know right now I come from a family of hardworking, dedicated farmers in a small town called Shelby, Nebraska. For as long as I can remember my family have been farmers and more than likely will continue to be so. I am the youngest child in a family of ten, if you can believe that and every single one of my siblings are either farmers or married to farmers. Basically you could say I am the black sheep of the family because I chose to go to college and left Nebraska to come to New York to be a writer. And I guess needless to say that my family was not too keen on the idea. In fact the only one who supported me on this idea was my older sister Jess, who is thirty- five and is married to a dairy farmer and they have a farm that is twenty miles from my parents. Truth be told she is the only person who has been supportive of my ideas and me all my life, and is the only person that I keep in contact with on a weekly basis since I came to Manhattan.

My last visit home, which was Christmas wasn’t exactly pleasant. My parents and the rest of my siblings think it would be better if I came home to settle down just like all of them, but unfortunately for them their daughter is sort of a perseverer and despite all the rejections I have been receiving these past two years I really feel that someday my big break will come. Or so I keep telling myself. Oh well. One can always dream right? I shook my head at such nonsense that I really didn’t believe in any way but I also didn’t want to be wrong and have to admit that my family was right. Then I placed the frame back down, turned off my light, climbed under my covers, not forgetting to set the alarm of course for my day of work that was ahead of me, certain that nothing out of the ordinary like that day the stranger saved me would ever occur again.

Authors Note: Here you go, the first chapter. This story is a new idea that came to me and is going to take a while to write I’m sure while the ideas flow. I am looking forward to writing this but I have other stories I need to concentrate on as well such as Accidentally in love so I will try to get as many chapters up as I can. Thanks for the reviews!!!