It’s hard to write in a city where everyone’s writing. It sucks. What’s to make her any different than the rest? She’s pretty but there are prettier, smart but there are smarter, does a little freelance but she’s nowhere near the big leagues.
There are places that reward a work ethic, though. They’re the ones who are set up to do so, theoretically in preparation for a real world that will render that preparation useless.
But. There’s work to be done, and she can do it.
After a time, Emma gives up on fiction. And eventually fiction gives up on her.