Chapter 10 #2
I don’t want to tell Sofia that this won’t be the first time a ghostwriter has been stiffed, because companies often go out of business. But Desdemona Inc. has a rock-solid reputation. They won’t do this to me after all the years I’ve spent with them helping build their brand.
“Oh, Ryan! I nearly forgot. He texted me earlier.” I pick up my phone and call him.
He sounds cloudy and gruff. “You’re finally calling me back. I’m sorry.”
“What? Why? They did a great job, even cut out that part where I slid off the stool. Didn’t you see it?”
“See what?”
Oh, for crying out loud. Leave it to Ryan.
“The morning show. Carla announced the book this morning and they played some of my interview.”
Silence on the other end and I begin to think Ryan is sorry for something else entirely.
“So, you haven’t heard?”
My stomach does a little roll and pitch. Surely there’s no more bad news. I hold up a finger to Sofia to indicate I’ll be right back, and step outside my shed.
“Heard what?”
He manages a cross between a moan and a groan and a sigh. What a talented man.
“Yeah, so listen. Here’s the thing. Because of the secrecy behind our agreement, we had to tell your other editor at Blushing…”
“Spit it out!”
“My publisher had to tell her you wrote the book when she asked. Because they couldn’t very well tell them the truth. Telling them you didn’t actually write the book would lead to questions and rumors. That would defeat the purpose of all this.”
I close my eyes. I suppose that makes all the sense, so therefore, I have violated my contract. If I’d only had the time to tell them beforehand, it might have been okay.
“I guess that explains why I just got fired this morning via email.”
A beat of silence, then, “Will saying sorry again have any effect?”
“I know you’re sorry, it just doesn’t change anything.”
There goes my safety net. Desdemona books are always a surefire way to earn money writing.
I will never get rich off them but she’s the reason I’ve been able to call myself a working writer for years.
Some would say I should burn that bridge, so I’ll never be tempted to cross back into the security and safety again.
But I’m different from my mother in that way, too.
I don’t take big risks. Until now. And it’s made my skin prickle and sting with worry, which I should have seen as a sign.
After the Elizabeth Brogan project, I will have nothing. I’ll join the ranks of the unemployed. Sure, there are plenty of possibilities but no guarantees. I can’t assume they will like and buy my time travel book. A stepping stone would be nice, but I have no desire to jump off a cliff.
“Those books were my livelihood. They kept me writing.”
“Listen, you don’t need them. Once enough people read your book, and know that it’s you behind the keyboard, that will all change. Your life is about to change, and way beyond me and Elizabeth.”
“I don’t see how you can say that when you haven’t even read any of my own work.”
“Whose fault is that?”
The words stop me short. How could I have the man who’s written the book that everyone loved so much judge my work? Uh-uh, my brain says.
Holy shit, my heart says.
I can hear Sofia telling me to “snap out of it” and answer the question.
“Um, you’re serious?”
Look, every author understands what a big deal it is to ask a colleague to read for you.
No one has the time to read anymore, ironically.
I understood from the experience of my colleagues that most established authors only read the first three chapters of a book when asked for endorsements.
But those were usually given through referrals by a shared agent, editor, or publisher who were lending their credibility.
There were only a handful of enormously kind and generous authors who would offer to read for a virtual stranger who simply asked. But clearly, Ryan owes me. Big time.
“It would be an honor.”
An honor. It’s hardly an honor. Now I feel like I’m being set up to fail.
“You shouldn’t expect too much. I haven’t been writing as long as you have.”
“I’m familiar with what you’re doing. Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Belittle your work. I know how hard it is to write romance. That’s why I don’t think I can do it again. I prefer writing about war, which should tell you something.”
“You don’t seem to realize that makes it even worse. Only one book and look at the success you’ve had right out the gate.”
Ryan clears his throat. “My publisher put a lot of publicity into the book. They probably wanted to earn back the generous advance my agent negotiated. The idea of writing from a male point of view was unique enough there weren’t any other books quite like it.
Sometimes you run into some luck. That’s all this was. ”
I appreciate his modesty but it’s not helping.
“You should at least give me a chance to find out what Luci Santana writes,” he says. “You’ve watched me bleed all over the pages.”
I hang up and step back into my shed where Sofia is waiting for me.
“Everything okay?”
“No,” I say. “But it will be.”
“Is the professor helping you with all this?” she asks.
It’s a reasonable thing to assume, and I can answer this honestly.
“Yes, he’s been a huge help.”