A Genius Writer's Random Workplace Novels & Stories

“I completely lost track of time.” “Yeah, I suppose we should get out of here,” I said. “I need to try to be productive tomorrow.” “Are you busy with a magazine article?” Gabe asked. “Just working on some general writing. I’ve got to keep at it or else I get rusty,” I said, tripping slightly on my words as I realized that bringing up my line of work probably wasn’t the best idea. It was a vague but decent enough response. “But, it does need to be done.”

That the fantasies and the thoughts of writers reflecting on their stories. I do have 5 years of experience in editing but this is the first one I handle such a heart breaking story. Anyway, I arrange these stuffs and tucked myself into bed. I close my eyes and let the darkness eats my consciousness. The next Day I am now inside the building where I work. “Good morning sir” an employee greeted me. “Morning” Just my usual answer. Then I walk away and went straight to my office. Before that I stop in the front of vending machine and take a coffee.

"Ugh! I can't do all of this just for two days!" I frustratingly crumpled another paper and threw it at the bin behind us. I've been trying to take all my creative juices out of my brain. I was already on the internet for some inspiration for my next plates, but I just couldn't. Klenz on the other hand was also busy with his laptop, he said he has to check some papers so his workers can have their paychecks.

Thаt bouncer іn the hаll соuld bе іn hеrе in no tіmе, and mу рlаn wоuld be ruined. I lіft uр thе ѕmаll mеtаl gаrbаgе can undеr thе fеmаlе worker’s desk. She doesn’t clean thіѕ thing out rеgulаrlу, аnd that’s perfect. It’s fіllеd with рареrѕ аnd apple cores. It’ll mаkе a nice lіttlе fіrе.

New York was not a cheap city to live in. The N.Y. was not a cubicle hellhole. There were tables and office chairs in various places in the room. Some writers sat in the floor or in beanbag chairs. The place was very loose. Writers were not tied to their desk for a certain amount of hours like at other newspapers. The job was more than perfect for Beverly. It was her dream job. “Balsom!” Isaiah Green, the assistant editor, yelled. “Yeah,” Beverly answered as she waved her hand in the air. She was sitting in a bean bag chair with her laptop in her lap.

I like to start school at 6am when I do my best planning for the day. I would like to say that it takes talent to be this clumsy, that and ADHD. Despite all of this, I am healing nicely and still working and writing. The writing only happens at the weekend since I am regularly at work for 10 to 12 hours, 5 days a week.

I smiled and everyone started whispering to each other. “Hey. What's the matter guys?” They did not respond and they resumed work. What an irritating day I have. I think I'm going crazy. I just go directly to my desk and arrange my things. I open the computer and start to do my work. I already make an outline for my story and I will email it to Ms. Amanda. I'm trying to do some chapters but I can't concentrate because of the disturbance in my environment. Some of my colleagues can't stop gossiping. Why would they gossip within the office rather than do their job?

As of now, off the top of his head, he only had the title that perfectly suited the topic of the next issue of the magazine and a punch line, which was bloody idiotic, because he had no idea for a better one yet. Officially, there were still about forty minutes left of work hours. Had it not been for the circumstances and the presence of Nicolas, there would be no one in the editorial office. If they were, it would be during partying and after drinking at least a few bottles of strong alcohol. Who wanted to move their brain grey cells, sit at the keyboard and write? Certainly not him. He just did not understand why no one wanted to argue. “How are your articles coming along, gentlemen?” He a

Luckily for her, she didn’t find it hard because she was incredibly smart. After quitting her job as a medical practitioner, she spent the whole month of August ruminating about her new path, during which was one of the hardest times. She would often wake and lie lifeless, and helpless on her bed, mat, and sometimes the floor. Until one morning, she got an e-mail, an advert, a call for work for training writers. She had forgotten that she signed up for the website.

Even the reading nook by the window with the little library I absolutely loved. Maybe it was the perfect spot for me to write. Since I got the job as a copywriter, I neglected my writing. I undressed in the bathroom and jumped into the water. Now that I was alone, my mind wandered to this morning and the close call that resulted in my furious resignation. Gabriel was a drama personified. Especially now that I’ve given up on his slogans for future ads and uncorrected texts. And if I added the fight I had with his mother, it all became the perfect reason for me to leave.