Editor Jobs Remote Novels & Stories

I adjusted a sleepy Esme on my lap, holding her with one arm as I scrolled frantically through the email with my free hand, my eyes glued to the screen. [Greetings! Ms. Holloway, I'm Theresa Steele, Editor-in-chief here at Bloodhound Press. I hope this email finds you well...] I skimmed through the pleasantries and the details of his review of my work, which were filled with genuine praise for my writing style and my ability to keep readers on the edge of their seat.

We have to go see her editor or whoever the hell her boss is, and soon. I sighed quietly, feeling like shit. Here we were flaunting our mate in front of Chase while he was lonely as fuck. Telling him that she didn’t want this, thought she was better than Moon Bay. I didn’t really think about how he’d feel in all this, and it mattered to me, a lot. “We probably wouldn’t live here most of the time, no. She says she might be able to work remotely or work out something like that. But the job would be pretty hands on. I guess … no we wouldn’t be able to go public about finding our mate,” I said.

In the end, he settled for having me go to a contract worker and agreed that I could work remote until they found a replacement for me. Edur chuckled as we left. “What?” “He has no intention of finding a replacement for you. No one can do what you do, Tana. He’s hoping you’ll settle into working remotely and that will be the end of it.” “If I can make it work, I’m fine with that. I’m even fine with coming into the city once a month to be here for meetings if necessary. Of course, once the baby is born, that may change, but for now, it’s fine.”

"Your résumé mentioned you're an illustrator, and you have a background in graphics design." It still sounded too good to be true, but the longer Eden thought about it, the more she liked the idea of freelancing for Anderson Logistics. "Here's everything you need to know," Zara pushed the file in front of her. "Your salary won't be as much as what you're getting now, but you'll be working fewer hours, so it balances out. You won't have any of the company perks, either. And you'll work remotely, but there are times you'll be required to come in once or twice a week."

The bed is spacious enough for a child and a parent, but the closet is too small. So, little rose is planning to give up her room for me? Although I appreciate the gesture, it’s entirely inconvenient for Ben. I take out my phone and call Jake. “What do you want now?” He asks, irritated. I try to cut it short. “Put me on the phone with the Chief Editor of the Literary branch.” Jake obeys at once and puts him on the conference call. “What can I do for you, sir?” “I hear they’re lacking employees in our branch in San Francisco, correct?”

It's late in the evening, and I'm still in the office. Tracy asked me to edit a news video story, which is not my regular job, but I'm happy to do it. I know this is a stepping stone to working full-time as a journalist, which is my dream.

It started with a ping from my editor. “Need to talk. URGENT.” Not the kind of message you want to wake up to at 7:04 a.m. Jeff was still asleep beside me, his face relaxed in a way I rarely saw when he was awake. I didn’t want to disturb him, but the pit in my stomach was already forming. I slipped out of bed, padded to the kitchen, and called. “Demi,” my editor said without even saying hello, “Did you see the blog post on Watchdog Weekly?”

Casey POV I closed my laptop, doing my best to keep my emotions in check. Honestly, I never expected to run into Arnold here, of all places. I forced a confident smile and looked him right in the eye. “I work remotely now,” I replied, sounding proud on purpose. “Not every job has to be done sitting in an office, Arnold. Besides, ever since I became a journalist, I’ve done most of my work out in the field anyway.” Arnold stepped closer, moving with total confidence. Then, a little forcefully, he reached out and grabbed my wrist.

“Please continue without me. You can fill me in through an email.” We walked side by side to his office. The Chief Editor didn’t look at me. He appeared preoccupied and distant. “What’s going on?” I questioned. “Is everything alright?” He simply stared at me. Sighing, he walked over to his desk and picked up the remote of the television, flipping the channels. I turned my head slowly towards the wall where a reporter was speaking.

He squinted his eyes, "What will it take for you to be in charge of my work?" That sounded like a joke to me and I laughed but the laughter sounded weird like it was forced, which of course it was. It sounded like a witchy one and it was very dry, dried from any sort of emotion. I didn't bother to cover up my displeasure, "No, no. I can only edit it for you and that's my job, that is why this is a company sir, the writers write, and we the editors edit their writeup in case of any mistakes or omissions." I explained to him.