Chapter 6 #2
Lisa Garcia: Can I join in this conversation? My book is about fraternal twins who find out that they might actually be triplets, so they go on a search for the third sibling. It’s so tough finding others with books about siblings!
A warm glow pulses deep in my chest and expands to fill my entire body.
I’m doing it. I’m actually doing it. I’m making connections, building the foundation of friendship with my peers.
What a lovely thought it is, too, to have peers once more.
It’s a rough realization to have that ever since college, I haven’t had much chance to have peers.
Annette is my boss and hence definitely not a peer, and—well, that’s it, really.
Who else am I exposed to on a regular basis?
Terry? I want to laugh at the thought of him.
He’s around my age, but I can barely think of him as a person, never mind a peer.
Not being mean; it’s just Terry kind of transcends personhood somehow.
Fern Huang: I love this! Hi Lisa, your book sounds amazing! And you’re so right that books about siblings are definitely few and far in between, so I’m glad that we’ve found each other.
Less than two minutes later, a reply comes.
Lisa Garcia: I wonder why that is? Most of us have siblings, right? I have two brothers. Growing up with them was definitely not for the weak of heart, lol!
Jenna Duncan: How funny! I have a sister and I would say the same about growing up with her.
I grimace at my screen. Shoot. How did I get myself into this conversation about siblings? Take a deep breath, I remind myself: Just be yourself. It’s all going to be okay.
Fern Huang: I’m actually an only child, but I’ve always wanted a brother of my own (I figured a sister would just steal all my clothes), which is why I’ve written a book about siblings. You guys will have to tell me if I got the sibling relationship all wrong!
Jenna Duncan: Omg, you don’t have any siblings but you wrote a whole book about them and that book is getting published?? Fern, you are Amazing! I am in awe! I need to read your book. Actually, Lisa, I need to read your book too. They both sound so good!
The flush of pleasure is almost overwhelming. Look at me, holding my own in this conversation. Our connections are building, budding into proper friendship, and it’s so wonderful I could just die.
Lisa Garcia: Agreed! Fern I think it’s so cool that you’re an only child writing about siblings. I am definitely up for reading each other’s manuscripts. Shall we do that? My email address is lgarcia232@.
Both Jenna and I share our email addresses, too, and I spend the rest of my break time furiously speed-reading the most recent version of my manuscript, tweaking this word choice and that sentence as the minutes tick down.
Then, just as Annette gives an obnoxious clearing of her throat, I get to the end, and—well, I don’t know, is it good enough to send to Jenna and Lisa?
But so what if it isn’t? It’s not like I can do anything about that at this point.
And if the book is good enough for an editor at Harvest Press to give me actual money for it, then surely it’s good enough to share with a couple of other writers that I’ve just met.
But god, it’s nerve racking, like stepping outside a changing room naked and asking these two strangers to scrutinize every aspect of my flawed flesh.
Stop that, I scold myself again. This is part of the process.
We are writers—what else are we going to bond over if not our writing?
I attach the manuscript to an email and type out: I’m so glad that we’re doing this!
I can’t wait to read both of your books!
Once again, I hit send without letting myself think twice, then I go back to the Excel sheet and lose myself in numbers.
Minutes later, or maybe hours later—what does time even mean anymore, these days?—my phone beeps with an incoming email. It’s from Jenna, with her manuscript attached. Here’s mine! I’m going to read yours in alphabetical order so it’s Fern’s first, lol!
My heart squeezes, half with joy, half with anxiety.
Somehow, I refrain from replying right away.
I push my phone aside and finish up updating the Excel sheet before moving on to checking the contact-form email on the website.
My phone beeps again, and this time, it’s from Lisa.
That’s a good idea, Jenna! Okay, since you’re reading Fern’s first, I’ll read yours first.
This time, I reply immediately. I love this. Okay, I’ll read yours first, Lisa. Yaaay! This is perfect!
I can barely concentrate on anything the rest of the day, but fortunately it’s a pretty light workload today, with just three general inquiries to reply to.
I copy and paste our usual response to the inquiries, then move on to photo editing, something I actually enjoy doing because I can turn my brain off and apply the presets to them before letting Annette know that the folder is ready for her review.
By the time I knock off, I’m still buzzing with bubbly energy.
I download Lisa’s manuscript onto my phone and begin reading as soon as I’m out of the office.
Lisa’s book is a family drama, a genre I’m not usually drawn to, but I find myself being sucked in within the first two pages.
Her prose is incisive. She doesn’t waste any time on flowery phrases, cutting instead straight to the bone.
It’s a powerful piece, and the more I read, the worse I feel about my own work.
Ten pages in, I minimize the document and call up my own manuscript.
I compare our opening pages, my heart sinking as I notice how obvious the discrepancy in our skill level is.
While I dither about, wasting valuable first-page real estate on introducing my main character, Lisa slices right into the heart of the story.
Her opening line is “We find out that we’re not twins on a Tuesday afternoon.
” Mine: “She wakes up to a beautiful morning, with a breeze blowing in through the open window caressing her face.”
I thought, when I wrote that first line, that it was beautiful and dreamy, but now I see it for what it is, an author clearing her throat before she begins the actual story.
My cheeks blaze with shame. How could I have sent this to Lisa?
By now, my stomach is churning, warm acid burning up my chest. I close my manuscript and instead open Jenna’s.
Please, please, I think to myself, please let hers be bad too.
I grimace at how mean that thought was, and correct myself mentally.
Not bad, I’m sure it won’t be bad at all, but please let it not be so . . . brilliant.
Jenna’s book opens with: “For as long as Thomas can remember, he’s always hated his brother Kev.
” Not bad, but definitely not brilliant either.
I read on, and the more I take in, the looser the knot in my chest feels.
Soon, I feel like I can breathe normally once more.
Okay. It’s fine. I’m not the worst writer in the group.
Plus, I remind myself, Jenna is the one with the smallest deal, and reading her manuscript, I can totally see why.
Publishing is a meritocracy, and that’s never been clearer than it is now.
Again, I feel a stab of shame with that petty thought.
Stop thinking like that. That’s Haven-talk, that is.
I am not this person. I am not someone who judges others, especially my own friends, to make myself feel better.
I read another page while making a conscious effort to look for positives.
Jenna is great at dialogue. Her characters’ speech sounds natural and utterly believable.
Jenna is good at pacing. Jenna uses adjectives sparingly.
There. I’ve proved to myself that I’m not a bitch. I’m a good person.
But it’s not enough. I still feel bad, so I open up Gmail and compose a message to just Jenna.
Hey Jenna! I couldn’t resist taking a peek at your manuscript, and can I just say, OMG!
I love it so far! Your dialogues are so realistic.
I can totally imagine real people saying them.
I find dialogue really hard to write, so kudos to you!
Okay, now finally I stop feeling like an asshole. See? Being a good person isn’t hard. It just takes a bit of effort.
With the email out of the way, I go back to Lisa’s manuscript, my insides shriveling up once more as I lose myself in her gorgeous story. When I get back to my apartment, I go to my computer and look up Lisa’s deal announcement on Publishers Marketplace.
Lisa Garcia’s They Fall Harder in threes, a family drama about a pair of twins who find out in adulthood that they may in fact not be twins, but triplets, and go on a hunt for their missing sibling, to Natasha Tory at Paper Machine, in a two-book deal, in a good deal, for publication in spring 2020, by Jasmine Stevens at Stevens Literary Agency (NA).
A “good deal” in publishing speak is anything between $100,000 and $250,000.
She is getting paid way more than I am, which stings.
I mean, logically, I know it makes sense because the quality of the work is truly staggering, but it still stings, the knowledge that she’s so far ahead of me.
Still, I remind myself, it’s all about the writing, and as long as I keep my head down and keep improving, one day I, too, will get there.
And I’ve had years learning to keep my head down, haven’t I?
And I should be taking this as my chance to learn.
I go back to the beginning of Lisa’s manuscript and reread the opening chapter with a critical eye this time, taking apart her writing down to the elements, noting how she achieves certain effects, the cadence and rhythm of her sentences, the succinct elegance of her word choice.
I’m so motivated to improve myself that I could swear my writing skill has leveled up by the end of chapter one.
I can identify Lisa’s sleight of hand and the conscious decisions she must have made at this paragraph and at that page to make the reader think or feel a certain way.
And if I can identify it, that means I can replicate it.
This is what I’m good at. Quiet self-improvement.
Watching others, absorbing what they do, how they talk, their hand gestures when they communicate, their facial expressions, and practicing so that I get better at social interactions.
And it’s just the same with books. This is exactly why I know that my tiny deal is only the beginning, why I know that my publishing journey is going to be a long and fruitful one: because it’s quite literally the only thing I have going for me, and I’m not about to let anything get in the way of that.