Getting Tossed In The Moat…

Once upon a time, there was a girl who wrote stories. She weaved words together for others. She lived a happy life. Cancer cratered some dreams and she went corporate. Each and every day her soul shriveled a bit. She became hard and brittle. Climbing the ladder with another girl’s heels kicking you in the face messes with the mind and heart. Pretty soon the girl did not recognize herself.

No, she can’t go out. She has to work. No, she shouldn’t write that. The blog isn’t good for the company’s image. Is she writing this on company time? Remove it from the public view. No, she doesn’t have time to work on her books. Yes, she better answer her phone on nights and weekends. No, she’s not taking outside work right now, although she still loves your charity. Whether she works at the corporate event or attends the birth of a GrandBear is an actual discussion.

Of course, there’s an Evil Queen. Every story has one, non? Evil Queen believes technology can write stories, weave words, and win awards. In Evil Queen’s defense, many people believe in this brand of magic. They’re wrong, but still.

Advisors on all sides say, “Don’t leave. Sit tight. See what happens.”

And then the day arrives. The girl knows it’s coming. She asks a colleague, “Is it today?” Affirmative.

Two Ladies in Waiting tell the girl to take a seat. The Evil Queen has decided the court no longer needs writers or creatives, eliminating that section of the castle. Technology and courtiers will suffice. As a courtier, the girl has never excelled. It’s been a year since the Evil Queen first said writers are unnecessary. I know–what’s wrong with her? Pfft.

The girl is sad to leave her friends. They call and cry, “What happened?”

“Does it really matter,” she thinks.

As she drives from the castle, a strange feeling envelopes her. She doesn’t have to answer the phone or suffer the wrath this weekend. She doesn’t have to convince people to lunch with the Evil Queen for thousands of dollars. There is no longer worry about the dropping of that other shoe. It’s done.

A friend says, “Will you write for my company?”

Another says, “Meet me for lunch, I have a project for you.” Right after he says, “Tragic for them. And shortsighted.”

And yet another, “You’re definitely going to Devil Wears Prada this, aren’t you?”

What’s that saying about closing and opening doors?

All in good time my Dolls. Meantime, I can now post whenever I want. I can recommend your businesses again. I’m available for drinks on the patio whenever the mood strikes.

Getting thrown in the moat when you know how to swim feels pretty good. Especially when the alligators are on the inside.