Hi Readers! Welcome to my story! Originally, I had no idea how involved or intricate Turbulence was going to get, but here I am in the midst of it, and whew! I'm enjoying it. Anyway, I decided to pop back to the beginning chapters and say hello!

If the mood strikes you, feel free to review the chapters you enjoyed reading. Tell me what you liked, want to see more of, etc. I'm new to this fiction game, so the more feedback the are going to be some mature chapters, so this story is probably best for the adult crowd. Obviously Stephanie Meyers owns the characters, but I thank her for letting me borrow them and do naughty things to them. ;)

Now the seat belt sign has just turned on, so buckle up and get ready for some Turbulence coming your way...

Chapter 1

Bella Swan raced through the airport frantically, dragging her rolling suitcase behind her. Airports were already a headache, but this trip was made worse due to the fact that she was dressed up in a stuffy business suit and heels. She was currently rushing to make her very early, very Monday-morning flight out of Seattle's busy Sea-Tac airport, headed toward a week-long conference in Nashville, Tennessee. Bella was a writer, a songwriter in particular, and she and her fellow artists were converging upon the Music City to draw inspiration from the prominent legends and up-and-coming artists that filled the stages of Broadway and the recording studios of Music Row.

Bella was a mix of nerves. This was her first conference as a writer. She interrupted her own thoughts with a harsh admonition… Songwriter, I'm a songwriter! Bella wasn't used to calling herself a songwriter; she had been writing down her thoughts for years, sometimes in poem form, sometimes in prose, and lately, in lyrical form. A few months ago, her musically-inclined coworker, Angela, came upon Bella scribbling aimlessly in her journal one day during a coffee break, and swooped down to nosily read over her shoulder. Bella was mortified, but after encouraging prompting from her dear and trustworthy friend, Bella forked over her journal and let Angela peruse more of her work. Angela then became a dog with a bone, urging Bella to work on her craft and quit her dead-end, thankless job as an assistant to the uber-bitch from hell, Jessica.

"You are way overqualified for your job, Bella!" Angela had practically yelled at her over a bottle of wine one evening. They were curled up on Bella's couch, trying to drink away a particularly trying day of following Jessica, excuse me, Ms. Stanley, around and doing her bidding. "She just got her job as Executive Editor because her father owns the publishing firm. She wouldn't know proper punctuation if it bit her in the ass!" Bella had barked out a laugh; Angela never swore, but she sure was worked up that night. "You do all her dirty work, and she gets all the credit! I don't care if you might move up in the ranks from all this. She treats you like dirt, and you deserve better! And with the way you write, you shouldn't even be trying to edit other people's work—you should be writing it yourself!"

Bella had rolled her eyes at her animated friend. Angela just didn't get it. She was a graphic designer for the publishing firm, handling the digital images and photography for the educational sector of the company. She was a brilliant artist and she never had to worry about doing grunt work at the beginning; everyone loved Angela's work and rewarded her handsomely for it.

But Bella was never known to hold her ground for long, especially in the face of tipsy, dramatic best friends, and so she finally relented to allowing Angela's musician boyfriend Ben to look at her writing. He was floored. He'd always thought Bella was a cool girl, but he had no idea she had this side to her. He immediately called around to some friends and bandmates, and before she knew it, others were looking at her writings and discussing plans and pieces and publishing. It was all too much! Bella was a very private person, and within the span of just a couple weeks, Ben and all his musician friends were trying to get her to write songs…for them!

Bella was just about ready to run for the hills, and luckily Angela noticed her friend's anxiety. She made the suggestion that Bella approach this frightening experience like an experiment, and before getting too much into the mix of things, she should observe and see if this line of work was really something she wanted. They did some research, and quickly found a few songwriter's retreats and conferences meeting all over the nation. Bella perused the list: San Francisco, Santa Barbara, Dallas, Chicago, Miami, New York, Nashville, Memphis, and New Orleans. All of the descriptions sounded enticing and nerve-wracking at the same time, but one stood out to her.

Come get a taste of what country music has to offer! There's no better place to gather inspiration and network with award-winning songwriters than right in the center of it all, Music City itself: Nashville, TN. Experienced and novice songwriters welcome!

The online registration form went on to list a series of activities, seminars, meet-and-greets, lessons, and performances that would gently expose Bella to the world of songwriting. She was also intrigued by the idea of the south. She'd never been lower than Chicago, and that wasn't saying much! Bella had heard good things about the people, the food, and the music of Tennessee, and she decided to take her week of accumulated vacation time to ditch her boss Jessica in Seattle and hop a plane down to the hub of country music to see what this songwriting thing was all about.

Bella felt butterflies flip in her stomach as she hurried through the terminal, looking for her gate. What was I thinking? She chastised herself. I'm never this brash, this spur of the moment. What if I'm terrible?! What if I have nothing to contribute? What if they realize I'm just some lowly Assistant Editor with a journal like a silly pre-teen? But even as those disparaging thoughts crossed her mind, she forced them out. Her dad, Police Chief Charlie Swan of her hometown Forks, Washington had already talked to her about this. "Bella, every day I ask myself if I'm good enough to be the police chief of this town. Am I experienced enough, smart enough, strong enough? And the answer to those questions are sometimes yes, and sometimes no, depending who you ask and on which day. But those aren't the questions that matter. The only questions that matter are: Do I want it? Will I do my best? Am I passionate enough? And those questions can only be answered by me, and as long as the answers are always yes, I know I can do my job. The same goes for you and whatever you choose to do." Bella had teared up that day; Chief Swan was not the most eloquent or loquacious person, but he was fiercely proud of his daughter, and if that meant he had to rustle up some inspiration words, then so be it.

His impromptu speech worked, albeit a tad late, and that is exactly why Bella was rushing up to the ticketing attendant, right as he was about to close the concourse door. She handed him her boarding pass, and he gave her a look that said, You almost missed it, girly. Bella blushed and flashed him a thankful grin, before scurrying down the hallway toward the waiting aircraft. Here goes nothing! was Bella's last thought as the heavy door swung shut behind her.

Alright, I'll admit it: I feed off attention. What can I say, it kicks up my writing craving...so drop me a brief review, dear reader.