The Taming of the Shrew

Getting On

*12:00 pm. Monday.*

Elizabeth's POV

I tap my fingers nervously on my legs as i wait in the modernly styled waiting room of the large building - Random House Inc. Today is it. The day i tell them they can published it. The first day of the rest of my fucking life. I've just started writing another book. Its the only way i can get my mind off of things. God, i wish Tom could be here to see this. I dont know if i can get through this. I stroke my thumb repetitively over the top of my hand and take a deep breath.

"Elizabeth Thompson?" The voice of a woman comes from an office of glass. I stand up and walk in to be greeted by a long table of men and women in importantly dressed suits, serious expressions clouding their pale, office stricken faces. I take a deep breath and sit down. Why the fuck did i wear skinny jeans, converses, and an Avengers t-shirt to a fucking interview? Fuck it.

"Hello." I say briefly, sitting down. Rachael, the woman at the very end of the long table, brightens up as i casually put my feet on the table. Fuck it, they either like me or they dont.

"Hello, Elizabeth. How are you?" The woman who i have associated as Rachael asks me. I force a smile. God, i wish Tom was here. Fuck.

"Im coping. Yourself?" I ask, feigning interest. She grins widely as though satisfied with my answer.

"Im great, Elizabeth. Can i just say, its absolutely thrilling to finally meet the brilliant mind behind the novel. However, i expected you to be older; much older." She says excitedly. The people surrounding the table all nod in agreement. I sit up properly, taking my feet off of the table. Brilliant mind? Fucking hardly.

"My mind is hardly brilliant. I just strung together an arrangement of sentences and called it a book. And please," i half smile and look down at the writing on my shoe, "call me Beth."

"Well, Elizabeth, we have evaluated your novel and, as astounding as it is, we want to just alter a few chapters." She says to me, grinning. I sit up straighter, crossing my legs onto the chair. Changes? What fucking changes?

"What alterations are we talking about here?" I ask concernedly. The business associates all glance at each other as though waiting for one to speak. Finally, an older man in a navy blue suit, smoking a cigarette, speaks up.

"For example, chapter 4. Why would Evangeline take William to meet her estranged mother? It's a pointless segment of an otherwise advanced novel." He says unblinkingly, taking a puff of the surrounding cloud of smoke. I stare at him. What the fuck did he just say?

"Thats actually a critical part of the story." I say. He nods and, as if i cant see him, he rolls his eyes. I raise my eyebrows. I have no fucking time for this. I just want to go home.

"Chapter 10, when Evangeline gets another job, why wouldnt she jump at the offer? Why did she think about William first?" A small woman in a pink suit asks me. Why is there so many fucking questions? Its a story for fucks sake. I sit, shocked at their changes. Rushes of panic are sweeping over me.

"The first line of the book, when Evangeline shows us her view on her emotional state, what made you choose to use that phrase? And the profanity within the novel as a whole is baffling. We'll have to change that." Another woman says me. I glance over at her. She is smiling at me with a notebook and pen. Why do i feel so under pressure and small? Fuck, is the book that questionable? She doesnt like profanity? Is this really what i want to be doing? Mutilating my novel? Changing crucial parts of the story? Do i really want to be here right now? Is this really worth it? Fuck. I know what i have to do. I smirk and close my eyes as a wave of realisation swallows me.