Page 61 of Unconventionally, Elle

Now

The weeks after the breakup were bittersweet, and my friendship with Emma was fragile because of all the family politics.

Ever since Barrett told his family we called it off, Olivia said she had no more assignments for me.

I couldn't believe that Emma would feel the same way.

Not only did I lose my relationship with Barrett, but it felt like I'd lost Emma too.

One day in Pilates, I saw Emma by the cubbies and decided to check in with her.

"Hey, Em, hope you're doing all right." I smiled nervously.

She looked up from her cubby, gave me a sad smile, and hugged me.

It felt so good to be hugged by a Henry again.

"I'm all right. You? Oh, and hey, don't worry about Olivia, Elle.

Okay? When I'm in charge, you're going to be my number one writer.

You got it?" She stepped back and was holding my hand while I tried not to cry.

"You're too good a person and a writer to dismiss because my brother was a dipshit. "

"A loveable dipshit." My bittersweet laugh was joined by tears.

"I wish you the best of luck until we can work together again, Elle. I really do. My brother's a fucking idiot, and I just hope this baby doesn't get caught up in the Henry family bullshit." Disdain dripped from her words.

I held my tongue and stared at her with curiosity.

"Margaret wants to get married; Barrett doesn't." She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "But he's going to propose, he told me. He wants to do the right thing by his son and make the family seem whole--blah blah blah." Her phone buzzed, so she took it out of her purse and looked at it.

I felt my stomach drop, but also, I pitied Barrett. He was being forced to do things he didn't want to do because he thought it was right, even if it compromised who he was as a person, a dreamer.

"Sorry, Elle. I have to get back to the office.

Let's do coffee or lunch sometime, okay?

I miss you. You and my brother broke up, not us.

" She gave me another big hug. "Hang in there.

Oh, I was thinking about it, since Olivia pulled that dick move and blacklisted you, I have some connections with other people in the industry who need freelancers.

So let me know if you need a referral, yeah? "

I didn't know what to say, so I nodded enthusiastically as Emma Henry walked out of Align.

A few weeks later, I texted Jude to check in on him. Our conversations still felt awkward, and with the lack of communication, I was scared I was losing him too. I didn't tell him Barrett and I broke up. It was too soon, and I didn't break up with him for Jude; I broke up with him for me.

Rachel called me the other day and told me that she saw Jude recently at an industry event.

He'd let his facial hair grow to a stubble, very Clooney.

I just needed to give him space, that was all.

Space and time, and maybe one day we'd have a chance at something more than friendship if it was still what we both wanted.

I was on my morning run, and while jogging through Harvard Yard and the ancient trees, I felt my watch vibrate. I looked down and saw an email notification.

I stopped under a large oak and tapped the alert.

My breath hitched and butterflies erupted in my stomach.

It was from the writing competition. It was the announcement of the winners.

Hands shaking, I scrolled through the message and scanned once, twice, three times before realizing what in the hell had just happened.

Dear Elle Watson,

Thank you for applying to the esteemed Literary Times Challenge.

It was a pleasure reading through so many inspiring manuscripts!

The competition was fierce, and we could only pick one grand prize winner.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as our FIRST RUNNER-UP and will receive a prize of $1,000 (USD).

Well done on a finely crafted story, and we wish you the best of success in your future endeavors.

Best regards,

The Literary Times Challenge Team

Oh my God, I was first runner-up. I won money for my writing! My thoughts were hysterical. But I didn't get a foot in the door with an editor. Now what?

I ran back to my house, wondering the whole time if I should be proud or disappointed.

I truly couldn't decide. It was winning but not winning.

I didn't feel the burn in my legs or the tightness in my chest until I got to my building, panting, with adrenaline bursting through my body.

I ran upstairs, flopped onto my couch, and texted my updated group chat.

Me: First runner-up! I didn't win but I got $1,000!

Sarah: OMG, Elle, I'm so proud of you! That's incredible, especially for your first book. Even though you didn't win the competition, I bet you can fix it up and submit it to other publishers, right?

Rach: Fucking congrats! That's awesome. We are excited, right?

Me: I really don't know. Like, I'm happy I did get runner-up, and I did win big money for writing a first draft of something, but like, I really wanted to win, ya know? I didn't get the editor or my foot in the door. Now what? How do I really become a writer?

Sarah: Elle, shut up. You ARE a writer. Don't you get it? You wrote a damn book in just a few months. Your FIRST book.

Finn: Ellz, Ellz, Ellz! OMG, babe! Ahh! Congratulations, my love! Jackson is here and says he's so proud of you too.

Rach: You literally WROTE a book. What else qualifies someone for being a writer? Being published? But that's technical.

Sarah: Rachel, shut up. She could self-publish if she really wanted to.

Me: You think, Sarah?

Sarah: Definitely. You can try the traditional route if you want for a bit, but if that doesn't work, you didn't fail.

Me: I don't think I failed, I think. Not really, at least. I mean, I was runner-up, so that means they liked it...

Finn: How many people submitted, Elle?

Sarah: Yeah, how many?

Me: Thousands, I'm sure. It was open nationwide even though it's based here in Boston.

Rach: Holy fuck, ELLE! You placed first runner-up in a national competition. Do you realize how huge that is!?

Finn: Ellz, you are unbelievable. J and I are so proud of you. SO freaking proud.

Sarah: Same here, girl.

Me: But, Sarah, what were you saying about publishing?

Sarah: Oh, just that sometimes, well, don't ask me for stats, but I think a lot of times you can make more money self-publishing because you are more in control. It's just harder.

Rach: When has something being harder ever stopped you, though?

Finn: No comment, ladies.

Sarah: Omg, Finn.

Rach: I can't with this guy.

Me: HAHAHA

Sarah: Elle, clean up your manuscript a bit and submit it. You can feel confident knowing that it's good if it was good enough to beat out thousands of other submissions.

Me: Okay, hold on one sec. I want to read over the rules again in my email and see if they say anything about publishing it in like an anthology or anything. Stand by.

I opened the rules of the competition and began to read. What I read next sent my stomach through the floor. My excitement vanished and anxiety crept through my mind.

Me: We have a problem, Houston. A really big fucking problem.

Rach: WHAT?

Sarah: Excuse me?

Me: The fine print of the competition. They keep the rights to my manuscript.

Finn: NO! Fuck.

Sarah: . . .

Me: I imagined winning so much that I didn't think losing the rights would be a big deal. But yeah, once I submitted it, the competition gets to keep my story.

Rach: So, you knew about that fine print? Elle, what were you thinking? That's awful verbiage. They aren't publishing it without your consent, are they?

Sarah: What the actual fuck?

Me: I don't think so, I could probably get a lawyer or something, but I mean, you guys, it was a shitty first draft, right?

Rach: I don't know, Elle. You slaved over that story. Now you're going to walk away?

Sarah: Yeah, Elle, you can't walk away from that. It's a labor of love.

Me: I'm not walking away from it. I'm going to write something better.

Maybe that was the whole point for me. I don't know, maybe it's only for me to understand.

Now I know I can do it. I can get paid for my art and my talent.

I can win, I can do this. Maybe I can find an agent with the first manuscript I scrapped.

Sarah: The one inspired by your grandparents?

Me: Yeah, it was almost a completed first draft. I bet I can make something happen with it.

Rach: Do you think you'll go back to corporate?

Me: No, I don't think so. I could if I needed to, but I'm not there yet. I was nervous for a bit about my savings depleting, but I've got a steady stream of income from a few clients I do copywriting for. I can't believe it, honestly.

Rach: I don't get it. You could make so much money going into corporate publishing if you wanted to.

Me: Rach, could you ever imagine being a stay-at-home mom? Seriously.

Rach: God no.

Sarah: Thanks, Rach. *Eye roll*

Finn: Sign me up for the stay-at-home dad train. Please. K. Thanks, bye.

Me: See though? Everyone has their own thing. Their own success. That's what makes this so hard to figure out sometimes. It's not one-size-fits-all in terms of life choices.

Me: BTW, Sarah, you're an amazing mom, and I could never do what you do either. It's too hard.

Sarah: Thanks! I love momming, but James better start making his own doctor's appointments, or I'm going on strike.

Me: HAHAHA

Rach: HAHAHA

Finn: Uh-oh, Jamesie.