Writer’s Workshop: Part One

Part One

Write or Wrong

“Sophie’s fine,” Zsófias Tierney told the receptionist when she heard the woman struggling to pronounce her first name.

The receptionist adjusted horn rimmed glasses and reached under the desk. She pressed a small button.

A momentary flicker in the mirrored panel behind the front desk caught Sophie’s eye. The receptionist tilted her computer screen when she noticed Sophie leaning in to take a look.

Sophie stepped back, folding her hands and shifting her weight.

Behind the glass, three people sat at a table. A tall, thin man clad in a white lab coat. A bearded man of medium height and build wearing a corduroy sport coat with patches sewn onto the elbows. A stocky woman in a silk business outfit completed the trio.

The bearded man was the first to speak: “How did this appli—”

“Tierney, Sophie Tierney.” The man in the white lab coat filled in the blanks.

“Thanks, Dr. Glass,” Andrew W. Stamway, international best selling author, nodded. “How did … Sophie Tierney … do on the examination?”

Dr. Glass opened a tablet. He accessed the network and pulled up Sophie’s profile. “Sophie Tierney scored well. She has a background in literature, maintains a high average in school, and currently works part time as a research assistant.”

“We should probably get her in immediately,” Stamway said. He turned to the woman. “What do you think, Cathy?”

“She seems qualified,” Cathy Carter, Stamway’s literary agent, answered. She tapped an index finger on the table.

Hundreds of contract negotiations with Cathy at his side had taught Stamway one thing: Cathy’s tapping finger meant take the deal.

“Yes on Tierney,” Stamway told Glass.

Dr. Glass whispered into the lavaliere microphone on his lapel.

On the other side, the receptionist, Cresencia Martinez, brushed back her long black hair. A tiny microphone implanted in her ear said, “Applicant confirmed.”

Martinez opened a desk drawer. She handed Sophie a stack of papers.

“What’s this?” Sophie asked.

“Standard boilerplate stuff … you know … disclaimers, nondisclosure agreements … things like that.”

Sophie looked at the contract. I hate this legal mumbo jumbo, she thought. It usually takes me at least three reads to almost comprehend it. And that’s with a legal dictionary handy.

Sophie turned to the last page. She decided to skip the legal jargon and go with her gut. Do I need the money? She asked herself. Do I get an adrenaline rush when the words flow?

The answer to both of these important questions came back Yes.

Sophie signed the contract.