Jamie Wellerstein (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
takingthelight) wrote2016-05-02 04:02 am
takingthelight) wrote2016-05-02 04:02 am
in screaming color
It's been a work in progress.
Not the book, actually. Jamie finished that a few months ago. But back home in New York, things had happened quickly. He'd been aggressive in sending out his manuscript and he'd had a little help from an old professor, nudging his book toward the right eyes, and after Light Out of Darkness came out, it all seemed easy.
Well, not easy, maybe. There was still work involved, but the reception of his first book was incredible, and he'd be lying if he said it hadn't opened doors for him. Lots of doors. After that, it never felt like a matter of whether or not he'd get published again. He never worried it was a one-off. It was just a question of writing a good enough follow-up and editing it to the point of being ready to publish.
He's never taken his luck for granted. Hard work got him to that point, hard work and talent and faith in his abilities and his voice. He worked for it. But it was luck, too, and he knows it, and the last year has been a vivid reminder of that. Starting from scratch, having nothing to recommend him but his words, it was... okay, a little scary, but exhilarating, too. When his agent starts shopping the new manuscript around, he knows someone will pick it up eventually, but the chance to prove himself all over again is a welcome one. He loved what he had in New York, but these last few years have made him a better writer. His first efforts in Darrow will be better than Light ever was.
It's been a good afternoon already when he gets the call. He's made good headway on his latest today, really feels like he's getting somewhere. Hearing from his agent is just icing. "Shit, no kidding? Yeah, of course. Of course, I'll be — yeah, tomorrow's great. Alright, tomorrow then. Okay. Yeah, no, thank you. Okay, bye."
He's been sitting at a café today, if only because people actually seem less inclined to talk to him that way than if he sets up shop in the park. He slides his laptop into his bag, and then, too impatient for much else, he gathers the rest of his materials in his arms and heads outside, phone on top of it all. He'll have to call Cathy and tell her. It's all been in the works for a little while, sure, but things were still up in the air. It'll be great to let her know it's all down, it's settled, it's happening.
Reaching for his phone, though, he hesitates.
It's stupid. Of course she'll be happy for him. Even with everything that's happened between them, he is who he has always been, and she knows that. She knows what that means. And things have been better. She'll be happy.
Any debate over whether to call or wait is forgotten, though, in the next moment, when he realizes what his phone is resting on.
"Hey," he says, surprised, and slips the phone into his pocket so he can thumb through the worn copy of Light Out of Darkness. "How'd you get here?" It seems like such a long time since this came out. Even skimming, he catches sight of a couple turns of phrase that seemed like good ideas then and make him cringe now. Still, it's special, his first. Nothing's going to change that.
He just doesn't understand why it's here.
[ Item post. Find Jamie stopped right in the middle of the fucking sidewalk like an asshole. To be linked in June, set to mid-May. Open. ]
Not the book, actually. Jamie finished that a few months ago. But back home in New York, things had happened quickly. He'd been aggressive in sending out his manuscript and he'd had a little help from an old professor, nudging his book toward the right eyes, and after Light Out of Darkness came out, it all seemed easy.
Well, not easy, maybe. There was still work involved, but the reception of his first book was incredible, and he'd be lying if he said it hadn't opened doors for him. Lots of doors. After that, it never felt like a matter of whether or not he'd get published again. He never worried it was a one-off. It was just a question of writing a good enough follow-up and editing it to the point of being ready to publish.
He's never taken his luck for granted. Hard work got him to that point, hard work and talent and faith in his abilities and his voice. He worked for it. But it was luck, too, and he knows it, and the last year has been a vivid reminder of that. Starting from scratch, having nothing to recommend him but his words, it was... okay, a little scary, but exhilarating, too. When his agent starts shopping the new manuscript around, he knows someone will pick it up eventually, but the chance to prove himself all over again is a welcome one. He loved what he had in New York, but these last few years have made him a better writer. His first efforts in Darrow will be better than Light ever was.
It's been a good afternoon already when he gets the call. He's made good headway on his latest today, really feels like he's getting somewhere. Hearing from his agent is just icing. "Shit, no kidding? Yeah, of course. Of course, I'll be — yeah, tomorrow's great. Alright, tomorrow then. Okay. Yeah, no, thank you. Okay, bye."
He's been sitting at a café today, if only because people actually seem less inclined to talk to him that way than if he sets up shop in the park. He slides his laptop into his bag, and then, too impatient for much else, he gathers the rest of his materials in his arms and heads outside, phone on top of it all. He'll have to call Cathy and tell her. It's all been in the works for a little while, sure, but things were still up in the air. It'll be great to let her know it's all down, it's settled, it's happening.
Reaching for his phone, though, he hesitates.
It's stupid. Of course she'll be happy for him. Even with everything that's happened between them, he is who he has always been, and she knows that. She knows what that means. And things have been better. She'll be happy.
Any debate over whether to call or wait is forgotten, though, in the next moment, when he realizes what his phone is resting on.
"Hey," he says, surprised, and slips the phone into his pocket so he can thumb through the worn copy of Light Out of Darkness. "How'd you get here?" It seems like such a long time since this came out. Even skimming, he catches sight of a couple turns of phrase that seemed like good ideas then and make him cringe now. Still, it's special, his first. Nothing's going to change that.
He just doesn't understand why it's here.
[ Item post. Find Jamie stopped right in the middle of the fucking sidewalk like an asshole. To be linked in June, set to mid-May. Open. ]
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Of course, she's apparently left her mark on a number of worlds and times, just not in ways she ever quite imagined. Or even wanted. "Am I allowed to ask what it's about?"
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He still remembers the pitch they sent to Random House, the one that made Elise open that manuscript and call.
Not that he wants to think about Elise.
"It's, uh... I guess you could say a coming of age story about people growing past each other. You know, it's... friendships, romances... And even when they end, they've changed you. Forever. And how you can grow up with someone, and just knowing them that well conceals all the ways you don't know them at all." He huffs out a laugh. "I promise, it's not as depressing as that might sound."
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He thinks briefly about revamping Light, touching it up, though he learned a long time back that he has to know when to let go. But maybe with a few edits, a couple of the clunkier phrases taken out, it could be better still, and there'd be no reason he couldn't bring that to his new publisher, too, something to put out while he works on the next one.
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She's never been a writer but she's read enough to know the insight it can be to the soul, and she can't help but be curious to explore what Jamie thinks and feels a little more.
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And in the back of his head is the voice saying, Hey, maybe you should tell Cathy first, because God knows Cathy will kill him if she finds out some other woman knew about the book deal before she did, but the voice is tiny and faint and easily shoved aside. He's excited. He has a fucking right to be happy about this. He worked hard to get to be happy about this. He deserves it.
"Actually, I'm publishing a different book. It just got picked up."
no subject