I read this story because I thought it looked interesting, and found that I feel the way the protagonist describes as he sits (or imagines he sits) in the happiness of a marriage with a new child, by a fire surrounded by the objects of success. He reflects on those first hard years in the beginning of his life as a journalist, the first day ingrained in his mind where he met his friend Will, to whom he writes the epistle. I feel like that; on the brink of opportunity--young, inexperienced, and praying that someone will believe in my work ethic and creativity enough to take me on. I continue to look, to contact, to send my work out, trying to keep believing in the dream of being published and being an editor someday. I don't think the dream will ever die in me, though it has tried. Some days are particularly difficult, when everything you try and do blows up in your face and fate is against you. But then you have an idea, one last meager hope, that slowly grows into something larger, something doable, something that gives you another reason to try, even if it's only once more. To those who give me this hope, I thank you. To those who do not know me yet, I want you to try me out--I will do my best for you, wherever I am, whoever you might be. This you must know, and you must know it now. If I am not good enough or not what you want, we can't know that until we try. And so I challenge you--take me on, and I promise you will have the hardest worker and the most willing editor there ever was.