Taming the Author

38: Read the Blue Book

I studied the girl seated in front of me with sharp eyes that spoke of experience. She seemed scared, which was good.

Her mother, who sat next to her, fumbled on the strap of her bag.

It was eleven in the morning, and I was scheduled to meet the author of a manuscript submitted to the publication for consideration. The book itself was promising. Jimmy, who sat beside me, just didn't believe the sixteen-year-old wrote the piece.

The story was about a girl who discovered that her reality was created by a machine. She tried to subdue the technology controlling mankind's existence throughout the story, only to realize the reality she thought was real was a fake.

It reminded me of Philip K. Dick. I especially liked the ending where the main character found herself confined in a mental institution for her "delusions," and where a group of scientists spoke of a successful experiment. It made me wonder which of the realities in the story were real - what the main character grew up to know, or what she discovered?

"Why did you decide to write this book?" I asked, studying the focus of her eyes.

She looked sideways as if asking permission from her mother. The woman nodded in encouragement. It didn't seem to convince the teenage girl though.

Judging by the simplicity of her clothes and the way she hunched her shoulders, I knew she thought differently from other teens and not a lot of people had accepted her ideas. This was the reason why she couldn't answer my question.

"I need an honest answer," I said. "This is a promising story, but I need to make sure you wrote this. Intellectual property suits are pricey. We can't risk publishing a story someone else might have written."

"It's my story!" she defended.

"Prove it," I said.

"I didn't raise her to lie to people!" the girl's guardian said.

"I want her word, Mrs. Flynn," I said, looking sharply at her. "You said you've heard about my reputation and still decided to see me for a consultation."

"Then we're leaving!" the woman said, standing from her seat and pulling the girl's arm. "I'm sure there are other better publishers out there who would be more than willing to publish her book."

I just smiled at the girl she was trying to drag away with her. "Then you can leave."

Jimmy kicked me in the shin. He wanted the book. He just wasn't sure about the author.

But I knew what I was doing. I had been in similar situations for the past two years. Earning my own reputation as an editor by handling authors that struck gold upon publication gave me the warrant to determine which books was worth the ink and which was not. It also helped me develop a skill to deal with hostility in the room.

I kept my eyes on the author's black eyes. "All I wanted to know was how the book came to be," I said. "I wasn't trying to undermine your daughter's skills. I was trying to know who your daughter is because that's how I work as an editor. I don't just scrap things or tell authors to change things in their books. I make sure they get their point across to as many types of readers in the world as is possible."

"And you're a judgmental parasite who can't accept that a girl this young could write--!"

"I was sitting in the school bus," the young girl began, ignoring her mother. "I was looking out the window when I wondered what would happen if all of it was fake. What if I was actually just walking down a treadmill when I walked down the road? What if the world moved around me to fool me into thinking I was moving?" she looked shyly away. "It just came to me. I started reading and found this M-theory, and I came up with this story."