Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
“Well, actually, I kind of know one you just signed recently.”
“No kidding? Who? Is it Raymond Forsythe? Chased Raymond for months. Love Ray!”
“No, no, it’s Steve Smith.” Silence. For a long, long time. “Gary…?”
“Yeah, no, I’m here. You’re, uh, you’re friends with Steve Smith?”
I look at Britney again. She raises a single eyebrow. “I mean… Yeah. Kind of. We know each other.”
Britney bows her head at me. I put the phone on mute again. “Stop,” I demand. Taking the phone off mute, I ask, “Why?”
“No, nothing, no reason. So, you’re not, like, close friends or anything?”
“Close? Uh, I mean…”
“Because that’s one of the first things we’ll advise you against if you sign.”
“What is?”
“Being close with Steve Smith. Being anywhere near Steve Smith. Well, I mean, not if you’re, like his dentist or whatever, but if you’re another writer ... we’ll wanna keep you away.”
“Why?”
“Because, Cord, Steve Smith is box office poison. He’s radioactive. He’s done. And we don’t want the anchor of the SS controversy dragging anyone else down with it. And I didn’t mean that as a clever quip. I’m not creating a metaphor about a ship called the SS Controversy that has an anchor attached. I’m literally saying that there’s a controversy, it’s centered around Steve Smith, aka SS, and it would be an anchor that could also… Whatever. You get it.”
“So… you didn’t wind up signing Steve?”
“Cord, nobody’s gonna sign Steve. Steve is done. The new lawsuit—”
“New lawsuit? What new lawsuit?”
“You didn’t hear about it? Raylen Star—who, for the record, we do not represent—has launched a lawsuit against Steve and Essie Smith for I don’t even know how many counts of I don’t even know what.” There’s a pause before he says, “How do you know Steve Smith?”
I take a moment to think. Because I’m not sure what the best answer is. So I just go with the first, most truthful one that comes to mind. “He’s the one who got me invited to the Sin With Us convention to begin with. All the stuff that’s happening for me… It’s because he got me invited to the con.”
Another beat where I can hear what sounds like Gary chewing ice or something. Then he blows out a long, long breath and says, “Shit. Yeah, that’s tough. But, y’know, fuck him, right? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be harsh, but publishing is a tough business. Which is why you need to be someplace like North Star, Cord. We can make sure something like what’s happening to Steve Smith never happens to you. Be smart. You may think you’ve summited the mountain, but if you look up, there’s thousands more feet to climb and you have to look out for the falling bodies of the others before you who couldn’t hack it, and make sure you’re not one of them.”
I know it’s an accident, probably. I’d lay all my newfound money on the fact that this Gary Pritchard didn’t even read Filling the Gap, either version, and is just chasing the new bright and shiny object, which happens to be me. But he just unknowingly stumbled right into the grandaddy of all possible metaphors.
In version one of FTG, Apollo falls off the edge of the mountain and dies. And Elpida goes on to find her own strength. Her purpose. He dies and she thrives because of it.
In version two, they fuck on the side of the mountain together and Apollo and ‘Hope’ get rescued by the National Park Service. (Which, while a deus ex machina, is kind of a semi-literal wink to the very concept of a deus ex machina, so I don’t feel bad about using it.)
So, which one do I want to be? Elpida or Hope? What kind of writer? What kind of person?
I don’t know.
I’m not sure what to do in this moment.
I wasn’t expecting any of it.
I just don’t know.
“Cord? You still with me, babe? Ah, shit. Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to be… Old habit. Been in this business a while. Used to be okay to call people babe. Not even that long ago. Everyone! Men, women, whoever! Anyhoo, what are you thinking? Shall we do this thing? You ready to take over the publishing world? Cordelia? ‘Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!’ and all that? Cordelia…? Ms. Lear? You still there?”
I look at Brit, who shakes her head at me. I know that shake. It’s the one that says, Dunno what to tell you, kid. You’re on your own on this one.
None of what’s happening to me would be happening without Steve Smith. He made this all possible. No, he didn’t force any of it into being, but he set the ball in motion.
On the other hand, this is also happening because I’m good at what I do. I care a lot about what I write and I’ve worked really, really hard and put myself out there to make it happen.