Chasing Zero

One

Before reading, please be aware that Spencer does not reflect the entire Agender community. They were inspired by me and other nonbinary people I know. They reflect one person, not the entire population. Enjoy!

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Once upon a time, in a suburban city in Chicago, I felt as though the world was end... No, that's not it. What a horrible way to begin a book. My life was in no way ending, despite the fact it felt like it was. I mean, Zero was on the line. I knew that as I stood at my professor's desk in the empty classroom that I was indeed being quite dramatic in my head, but I couldn't help it. She was holding my life in her hands.

Her glasses slowly slid down her pointed nose as she skimmed the printed pages. Her tongue slipped out of her mouth to moisten her dry lips. Her fingers gently griped the three pages, making sure not to wrinkle the edges. She was always careful when dealing with a student's work, as she knew it was not hers to keep. It was mine. My heart and soul. My life.

I wasn't exaggerating anything at all. There was nothing more important to me than writing. Not my family. Not my friends. Not even myself, nor my mental health. It was writing. Writing was what got me through the hard times. Writing became my escape from the difficulties of everyday life. There was no one from the outside world there, not even myself. It was a world where I had the power to wield both good and evil to my will. I was a God.

Life was incredibly difficult, especially after graduating high school and needing to pay for an extra four years of education out of pocket. After having all these rules and disciplines lined up for me to follow, all comfort was suddenly stripped off my back as life kicked me out on my ass and told me 'good luck.' It was as though I had to take a final exam without being able to study for it. I had nowhere to go. I had no idea what I was doing. All I could do was figure it out along the way, which was challenge when nothing in my high school career helped me with what came next. I knew the Mitochondria was the powerhouse of the cell, but I barely knew how to set up my own dentist appointments.

That was another thing I liked about writing. It was what drove me to learn. I wasn't going to bullshit my way through anything, pretending like I knew everything about anything when I didn't. If any of my work was going to be published, I did not need to worry about the critics attacking me for not knowing something so basic to everyone else. I had to make sure everything was authentic and accurate so it would relate to my readers.

That was the most important part, connecting with my audience. I had to be able to know my audience and what they did and did not like. I had to be sure my readers were entertained. Of course, I didn't realize in the beginning of my nonexistent career that the world was so infatuated with romance. It never clicked with me. I tried to keep up to date on what was considered romantic, offensive, sexist, abusive, and all those sorts of things so I could create the type of love interest that would be real, idealistic, and inspire people to find their equivalent. Someone who, through their mistakes, recognized when they did something wrong and grew from it.

I assumed writing about romance would encourage me to seek out a relationship. I would learn what was considered a healthy relationship versus a toxic relationship, and it would help me find the right person. It wasn't likely that I would find someone, and I was perfectly alright with that. I had books to focus on. My books. There wasn't room for a relationship to blossom. I had to focus on my career.

It was why my anxiety was at its peak as I stood before my professor. She was a writing genius, having written three bestselling novels in her life. Why she was teaching creative writing at a community college was a mystery no one could seem to solve. But I was glad she was there. If she wasn't, I didn't think I would have ever been given the chance to achieve my dream so quickly.