Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

We will see Bella's first meeting with Edward at Newton's, and we will learn how she felt about the situation. We see what really happened in the store with Jasper. She will talk more about her writing drama.

The ladies who I run around in circles to correct my writing: Dannibags and piesmom. They have become my best friends in this whole adventure into fan fiction land. Thank you ladies for all the work you put into cleaning me up!

Chapter 3

"Creatively Thinking"

Bella's POV

When I pulled up in front of Newton's, I wasn't any closer to deciding if I wanted to go to college or not. I figured I would take a couple of weeks to think about it.

I was really having a moment with my writing. I had found inspiration from the PA system playing in the store. I was busy scribbling down my thoughts on my clipboard. When I heard the doorbell ring, but figured it was the usual customers from town. They knew what they were looking for so I didn't look up from my writing until I heard the clearing of a throat.

I looked up, and I stared into the greenest eyes I had ever seen. He was simply beautiful.

"Can I help you?" I asked. It was at that moment that I realized he looked exactly like Edison Callum.

"I'm looking for a fishing pole. I was wondering if maybe you could suggest one."

"Sure, my dad loved to fish," I said coming around the counter.

I led the gentleman over to the fishing rod display and pulled out several different fishing poles. I taught him how to reel each one and talked about the advantages and disadvantages to each pole we had. After he settled on a fishing rod, I led him over to the tackle boxes. Every good angler needed one, and it was pretty apparent that this gentleman knew nothing about fishing. I even considered suggesting some DVDs that would help him in his journeys. I asked him what kind of fish he wanted to catch because different bait were used on different types. When he told me where he would be fishing, I suggested a couple of different lures knowing what kind of fish lived in the waters.

I walked back over to the counter so I could ring up the items he would be purchasing. I had picked up one of the lures I had suggested when I saw his eyes fall onto my clipboard that I had left abandoned on the counter. I quickly reached over and put the clipboard under the counter. I didn't want him reading the things I wrote nor did I want him looking at me like I was crazy when he figured out who I was writing about. I told him the price and waited for him to pay.

"Are you a writer?" he asked pulling a card from his wallet.

"No. Yes. I don't know," I said.

"What do you mean you don't know?" he asked looking puzzled by my statement.

I huffed and pushed the stray hair that had fallen into my face behind my ear. I didn't want to explain my passion or obsession depending on who you asked to a total stranger. However, there was something about his eyes, which begged me to tell him all my secrets.

"I am a writer in a way, but I'm not published or anything," I said biting my bottom lip. I knew within a couple a questions he would find out my secret.

"What kind of stories do you write?"

"Fiction mostly," I said handing him the receipt to sign. I watched as he signed the receipt, noticing his beautiful handwriting in the process.

"Fiction, well that's a good place to start. How do you find inspiration?" he asked.

I giggled; I had found a moment of inspiration a few minutes ago from music. "Everywhere really … songs, movies, TV shows, things I've read and things I see."

"I would love to read what you've written," he said.

I could feel my face heating up, and I knew I had to be ten different shades of red at the moment. .

"Uhm, I don't think you would be interested in reading what I write," I stammered. I didn't want him to know all the things I put into my stories. It was bad enough that Mike thought I was crazy. He would think I was too. Either he would find it ridiculous or think I wrote porn.

"Why not? It's fiction right? It's not real life and I am an English Professor over at Peninsula College," he said shrugging his shoulders.

Oh shit, he would really be critical of the things I wrote. Hell, he could probably pick my story apart in a matter of minutes.

"Well … it's shit. It's not shit literally; look, I like to write fan fiction. Are you familiar with that?" I asked.

I didn't want him to see my work for fear he would think I was an illiterate fool and hurried to add fan fiction, hoping that would scare him away from questioning me.

"Yeah, I've heard about it. Those are stories based off movies, books, cartoons … whatever someone likes … right?"

Shit fan fiction didn't deter him. I guess I had to be honest and hoped that would make him leave me alone about my writing.

"Yeah, something like that anyway…the stories I write well, they reference the books and or the movies in 'The Sunrise Series'," I said biting my lower lip again. I didn't want to hear him call me crazy, which was a possibility. I had heard it all before.

"Those stories about Edison and Annabelle, wasn't that a vampire thing?" he asked. I was shocked that he knew at first, and then I thought hell if he didn't know, I would think something was wrong with him. They were only the biggest phenomenon in the world. You would have to live under a rock to not know about them.

"Yep, I love to write stories about that couple."

Here we go; I was ready for the condescending remarks about the series.

"Still doesn't bother me. I've read the books and watched the movies, they're okay." He shrugged.

What the fuck? What man in his right mind admits to watching the series? I could see that if his wife or girlfriend had dragged him to see it. But, reading them? Come on now, he had to be lying.

"You are a rare breed Mr. …" I stopped mid sentence and looked down at the receipt "… Cullen."

"That I am Miss …" he stopped waiting for me to fill in his blank.

"Swan … Bella Swan," I said holding my hand out for him to shake.

He reached out and pulled my hand to his lips. The little shock I received when he touched my hand was nothing more than static shock or at least that's what I quickly thought. But, when his lips touched the back of my hand, the feeling was out of this world. It wasn't like anything I had ever experienced before. I think I even stopped breathing as he held his lips there.

I made the mistake of looking into his emerald green eyes and was lost in their depths. I could see everything reflecting in his eyes. I could see happily ever after and white picket fences. I know it's a cliché, but I wanted a family to love and look after. I wanted the whole thing; the knight in shining armor to come and save me. I wanted to be worshiped and loved unconditionally. I wanted to be treated like a princess. I think I might have read too many romance novels.

He slowly let go of my hand.

"You kind of look like Edison," I said still staring into his eyes. I couldn't help it. It was a Freudian slip.

"I've heard that before … it's the copper hair," he said.

"Yeah, the copper hair," I sighed.

I was utterly dazzled.

"You kind of look like Annabelle," he said.

His statement woke me right up then. There was no way I looked like Annabelle. She was too beautiful, and I was plain old me. I had been told that once or twice and the primary reason was the color of my eyes and hair. I wasn't anything more than that.

I giggled, "I don't think I look anything like her. She's so beautiful."

I lowered my head and pushed the hair that had fallen down in my face behind my ear. I wasn't beautiful, far from it.

He lifted my chin, making me look into his eyes.

"You've got everything she has and more," he said.

I couldn't help the blush I knew I had from his words. How could someone so gorgeous and God like think I was something special? I stared at him for the longest time wondering if I was dreaming. The clearing of a throat broke our gaze. I looked to see who was interrupting our dazzling moment. Fucking Mike Newton! I knew he would ruin this moment with his appearance.

"Isabella, don't you have work that needs to be done?" Mike asked rather hateful if you asked me.

"Uhm, yeah sorry Mike," I said getting everything together for Mr. Cullen.

"Good luck fishing, Mr. Cullen," I said handing him his bags.

"I'll need all the luck I can get," he replied winking at me.

I watched as he walked out of Newton's and out to a 2012 Chevy Camero. I knew he had money from his black Amex card, but it was obvious he liked to flaunt his money around. It was at that moment that everything he had said to me went right out the window. He was probably flirty and nice to all the women he met. He had to be your typical playboy type, and I didn't want anything to do with him.

~MFIR~

After Mr. Cullen left, I found another wave of inspiration and completed the next couple of chapters in my most recent story. My newest work in progress talked about the life of a submissive and the abuse that one could sustain while entering into the lifestyle.

I wasn't a submissive or a dominant, but those types of stories intrigued me. They called to something inside of me dying to get out. Or, that's what I thought because while reading those types of stories, it turned me on. I loved when Edison would have Annabelle tied up in his ropes or he would tease her, building her up to the point where she was euphoric. I yearned for more stories like that.

Searching the internet was sometimes tricky, and some of the information I found wasn't as accurate as it could have been. I talked with people in the lifestyle who would review my work, trying to get a better understanding for the characters I had created. They helped me understand the different aspects of the lifestyle and what was expected in the roles each person held. I thought briefly about going to a munch in the area to get a better understanding of what it was like to be in that lifestyle, but was scared to go. I couldn't figure out why though. It wasn't like the people in the lifestyle were any different from me, and I could talk to them freely. I guess the main reason for my fear was the unknown.

I finished my thoughts on paper and turned to see Mike standing at the counter.

"What can I do for you?" I asked.

"You are always writing on that damn clipboard. Didn't you even notice me standing here?" he asked pissed again.

"Sorry, but no," I said biting my lip. Here it comes, the speech about how I am wasting my time.

"You're pathetic! You're wasting your time on something that you're not even good at. You're never going to get published. You're pushing away men that are willing to be with you to write that stupid ass shit."

"It's not stupid," I whispered.

"Yes, it is. You don't pay attention to the customers when they're in here because you have your nose stuck in that clipboard. You're constantly day dreaming about some guy that is unattainable, and honestly it's unhealthy," he said with his cocky ass attitude.

"Just fire me then, Mike. I don't need the money or this bullshit. I love what I am doing with my time, and the alternative…is staring at these four walls while going nuts inside. I write because I want to, because I love to, and because it is the only way to get my feelings out. I write for others to tell me how I am doing and get the praise that I am missing in my real life. Maybe instead of being negative all the time about the things I do, you could be positive and make me feel happy about what I do."

"You're so full of shit, Bella. You never needed to write before you got hurt."

"True, I didn't. But, my life was lonely and unfulfilled then."

"You're obsessed," he said softening his tones.

"Maybe, but as long as I function like a human being, I eat and sleep, do everything I have to in this world, then my obsession isn't hurting anyone other than the people who chose to make my obsession about them."

"You're obsessions are not about me," he stammered.

"Yes, Mike they are. You constantly want to tell me how bad I am for writing or loving the movies or story, but what you are really saying is, your life is boring and you wish you had something or someone to heal the loneliness inside of yourself. You see, you put me down about it in order to make yourself feel better, but it's not going to work this time, Mike. Until they can prove that someone died from liking something a little too much, then I will continue. Hell, even if they told me I would die from my obsession, I might still do it."

"You're hurting yourself in the long run," he said.

"I don't think so. I'm learning to write better, expanding my mind, and talking with great people. I don't see any harm in the things that I do. And, until they cause you any great deal of pain, I don't care to hear you talk about it again." I huffed gathering my things.

My shift was over anyway, and I wasn't about to stand here and talk to him about my obsession when I could be at home getting my ideas into the computer. I walked out the door and into the parking lot. I hopped into my old truck and headed toward the Thrift Away for groceries.

I thought about the things that Mike had said to me while at Newton's. It wasn't the first time Mike had tried to get me away from writing or anything else for that matter. Mike had successfully pushed me until I gave up singing karaoke in Port Angeles. I didn't ever know if it was about me or the fact that I went with his mother. Mrs. Newton loved to kick up her heels every once in awhile, and signing karaoke was her vice. That was right around the time I had slept with him too. Mrs. Newton and I had been at club 'Star Shine' in Port A and had a little too much to drink. When we called, Mike to come and pick us up. I was feeling rather turned on, and he was ready and willing. After that night, he forbade us to go ever again, which successfully snubbed my karaoke days.

"Excuse me," a male voice said beside me.

I looked over to see who was trying to get my attention.

"Would you happen to know how to cook fish?" he asked.

I looked at him, making sure I wasn't seeing things because apparently Forks population had grown from having no gorgeous men to having two, and ironically enough, I had met both of them in one day.

"Sure do, what do you want to know?" I asked smiling. I wasn't going to ignore him.

"Well, I've tried to cook fish but every time it doesn't taste as good as if I were to purchase it from a restaurant. I keep feeling like I am missing something. Do you have any suggestions on the best way to prepare it?" he asked smiling.

"I usually place the fish in aluminum foil and use a tablespoon of butter and some Old Bay seasonings, if I plan on baking it. How do you want to cook it? Deep fried?" I asked.

"Baked or Broiled; I try to watch my fat intake," he said winking at me. Yeah, it was pretty; apparently he was health conscious after that statement.

"Well, that should make it taste good."

"Would you prepare it the same way if they were freshly caught?" he asked.

"Sure, I would say the fresher the catch, the better," I replied back smiling.

"Do you know about any good fishing spots around here?" he asked.

It didn't take me long to tell him about Charlie's favorite fishing holes and a couple in Port A. I told him to come to Newton's and I would hook him up with the best bait to catch salmon. As I was walking away from him, he called out to me again.

"Thank you so much, Miss. …" he trailed off waiting for me to finish, I had never given him my name.

"Swan … Bella Swan," I replied.

"Thank you so much, Miss Bella Swan," he said waving as I walked down another isle.

Apparently, the Godlike men that were stalking Forks were all flirting with me. I felt giddy from all the attention. It wasn't like anyone every noticed me. I paid for my purchases and headed home to my cats. Back to the life of a wannabe writer, obsessed Sunrise lover, and full-time repressed sexual deviant.

~MFIR~

The weeks passed, and over the last couple of days, I had hit every site known to man to practice getting better at my writing. I even purchased this fancy program, which was supposed to fix my mistakes. I never knew if it really worked or not. I adjusted the writing with the advice they gave and sent it to either Alice or Rosalie to weed out the rest.

I headed back to 'Sunblocked' to read over their submission rules again. I really wanted to get my story on this site. They were very picky about the stories they accepted, and they were known to have the best stories. They were very tough to get on though. I needed to have less than ten mistakes in my writing in order to make it. So, with Alice reading and working on my stories, I got brave. I thought that maybe I had narrowed it down to ten or less mistakes. So, I took the plunge and submitted the first chapter of my BDSM story.

I waited patiently for any news from them to see if I was finally able to get in. I was excited, but scared when an email showed up in my inbox. I opened the email and slowly read:

Dear WashingtonCallum,

Your recent submission to Sunblocked did not meet our requirements for submission due to the fact that it had numerous problems with the following issues:

_X_ Punctuation (lots of problems with punctuation, including missing commas, apostrophes where there shouldn't be, etc)

_X_ Tense (there are a few issues with past tense mixed in with the present tense in the rest of the chapter)

_X_ Word choice/usage (such as: I ask Jack curious-should be curiously...or have a comma before. And like after, there should be a period and start a new sentence, but that is a punctuation problem.)

Please review our Rules.

Please visit the Sunblocked Forum's "Writing Help" thread in the forum section called, "The Craft." There you will find very detailed and specific advice on the most common errors found in stories that get rejected, including problems with tense and punctuation.

In addition, I would suggest that you try to find an experienced, qualified beta to work with to improve your writing skills. Several such people have offered their services on the Sunblocked Forum in the 'Writing Help' area, and 'Beta Help Source' is a good resource as well.

Good Luck,

Sunblocked Staff

Well, that sucked, and once again, my dream was shot down. I thought having Alice would help, but it didn't. I took a couple of days from writing and milled around the house. Bored out of my mind, but still thinking about the stories I had already posted. I knew that I had to continue. I had faithful followers, and people who hung onto every update.

I put my big girl pants on and finished writing the stories that inspired me. Whether they inspired or entertained anyone at that point was a blessing. I hammered away every chance I got. Sometimes, I wondered if I was burning Rosalie and Alice out with all my chapters I was throwing at them.

Right before Christmas, Rosalie had become very busy. Which hindered a lot of our communications, and I was getting more and more aggravated when I had writer's block and couldn't think of new things for my characters to do. I had all these stories running around in my head, but couldn't figure out what I wanted for scenes in the chapters.

I still hadn't decided on if I should go back to school. The way I felt about everything at the moment was overwhelming. I had looked up the help places that 'Sunblocked' had suggest, and they were looking over my story. I was pleased to have someone trying to help me out.

I paced the floor and wrote more. It took them forever to get back to me. When I finally got the email from them with my first chapter, I was completely blown away. All the red marks and the comments. I sent the document over to Alice hoping she might be able to explain all the rules they had thrown at me. I was completely overwhelmed and felt like crying.

I shifted through the mess and tried to take their comments and make them work. I decided to go ahead and send them chapter two of the story to get started on that one. I noticed an email from Alice.

To: Bella Swan

From: Alice Brandon

Why are you sending your stories to them? They're picking apart your story and criticizing every little word.

I knew Alice was right, but I wanted to improve so badly. I wanted to be the best I could be, and learning would have to take place in order for me to get better. I emailed Alice back.

To: Alice Brandon

From: Bella Swan

I know, but I want to get better.

It wasn't a minute later before my email alerted me that I had a message back from Alice.

To: Bella Swan

From: Alice Brandon

I know honey, but they will tear you down in the process. Be patient, the more you write the better you will get.

I wrote her back and let her know I had gotten the message.

Why wasn't I able to read my own work and find these errors? Wasn't I smart enough? How in the hell did I ever graduate from high school? So, many questions swirled around in my head.

A/N: All right, this story changed from where I was originally taking it. After some research and long time thinking about what to do with it, I concluded that this was the best course. One way or another life is going to morph from fiction to a reality. This story will be a slow updater so please click the follow button before you go. I have three other stories running at the moment, and want everyone to get their update notices. As always be kind and show some love … we all need it.