Blind Submission (32 page)

“Well, Lucy, your assistant has just been telling me what beautiful weather you've been having in California. Sounds divine.” She looked over at me, smiled, and winked.

“Like Valhalla,” I said, and stood to give Lucy my chair.

 

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: manuscripts/editors/questions

Hi Anna,

Hope all's well. We're back at the hotel for a minute before we head out again for dinner—well, before Lucy has dinner with Susie Parker and I wait for her in the bar—so I've got a minute to send you a note. I know I've already spoken to you about 50x today, but Lucy keeps adding more editors for every project, so I've been continually updating all day. I guess the most important one is
Elvis Will Dance at Your Wedding.
She's been pitching that to everyone, and since I can't copy it everywhere we go, please send a copy overnight to the following editors: Susan Jones (C&P), Lydia Smith (Long, Greene), and everybody who bid on
Parco Lambro
(you have a copy of that list, right?). I'm sure there will be more tomorrow, but that's it for now.

She's really been talking up
Blind Submission
and they're getting excited. It's not ready to go yet, but Lucy wants you to start generating a list. Just put every editor in New York on it and I'm sure you'll be fine. Speaking of
BS,
Lucy wants to know if everybody's read the material. If you could let me know, or maybe send me reader reports, that would be great.

Some random questions from Lucy (I'm reading my scribbled notes here, so bear with me—I had to write this stuff down while I was running along next to her on the way to appointments!):

—Film interest for
Parco Lambro
?

—Permissions backlog for
Cold!
?

—Reading cycle while we're gone? (I think she means is Jackson picking up more submissions?)

—Change hold music. Lucy would like you or Craig to change the hold music in the office (but she also said that she doesn't want anyone to ever
get
the hold music—she called a couple of times today and the phones went right over to hold and she wasn't happy). Anyway, she wants the music changed to “Some Girls” by the Rolling Stones. (I don't know why.)

I think that's it for now. I'll be here for about another forty-five minutes and plugged in, so if you can e-mail back, I know Lucy would appreciate it.

Thanks!
Angel

 

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: manuscripts/editors/questions

Hi Angel,

That is GREAT news about
Blind Submission
!!!! Please tell Lucy that I will be MORE THAN happy to put together a list immediately. Does she need a pitch letter? I can do that too. And if she wants me to put the pages together, it's no problem.

As for the list of editors who bid on
Parco Lambro,
of course I have it. I put it together. Anyway, I will get those manuscripts off to the editors ASAP. Although I think you should know that since you've been on vacation, we're seriously short here, so I'm picking up a lot of the slack, including the reading, and I might not get that out until tomorrow morning. I guess that answers one of your other questions about Jackson. He really doesn't seem to be “getting it.” Maybe you can retrain him when you get home. Because of this, I haven't been able to get to the permissions (I thought you were supposed to be covering this?) or the film interest for
PL
yet. But please tell Lucy that I am working on it and will hope to have very good news for her when she returns.

Re: hold music. Can you tell Lucy that
Exile on Main Street
is considered by many critics to be one of the Rolling Stones's best albums? If she likes, I can prepare a folder with some of the important reviews for both that album and
Some Girls
and then she can make a final decision.

So, are you having a good time in New York? Have you eaten at Michael's yet? That's where all the literary muckety-mucks hang out. You should go. It must be so exciting to be there—you should live it up, do something outrageous and different. You go, girl, as Oprah would say.

Give Lucy my love.

See ya!
AA

P.S. Speaking of Oprah, can you please tell Lucy that I just learned that my aunt's stepdaughter's friend's cousin is a producer there! Please tell Lucy that I'd be happy to use my connection to try to get our authors on the show.

 

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: manuscripts/editors/questions

Anna,

I don't think Lucy wants a report on which Rolling Stones album was better received—I'm pretty sure she just wants you to change the hold music, okay?

By the way, I'm not on vacation. I haven't done anything except work since we got here (and sleep—although not very much). Just so we're clear on that.

I'll pass your Oprah news on to Lucy. And I'll get back to you on everything else tomorrow. Have to go now.

Thanks,
Angel

 

 

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: one more thing

Hi Angel,

You're probably off having drinks or whatever now, but I wanted to send you a note before I forget to tell you that someone named Sunny Martin called for you today. She was calling about a book. She said you met on the plane? She said you had given her your “private number” but that she “lost” it. She was calling here because she said you told her you worked with Lucy. I must have gotten confused because it sounded like you were offering to represent her…. Anyway, I told her that you would be back in the office on Friday and that she could send in the first 50 pages and you would pass it on to Lucy. Just thought you'd like to know.

Also, your old boss from the bookstore called looking for you. I didn't tell her where you were. She said she has your home phone number.

That's it for now. Hope you're having fun! Make sure you take care of Lucy!

AA

 

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: BALSAMIC MOON

Dear Sunny,

I just wanted to drop you a note to tell you how wonderful it was to meet you on the plane the other day. What good fortune for both of us! I also wanted to offer you my thanks for being so gracious about having to get up and down so many times—that was really very nice of you. Finally, I must tell you how excited I am about your book. I've read quite a bit of it already and I think it's terrific. I've been meeting with several editors here in New York and I think that many (if not all) of them would be most interested in a book such as yours. I've already mentioned it to one of the most talented editors I know and she's extremely interested—sight unseen! This is the right time for a book like
Balsamic Moon.

Speaking of sight unseen, I understand you spoke with Lucy Fiamma's assistant, Anna, today? My apologies if she didn't understand who you were. As I'm sure you can imagine, we get scores of submissions daily and many of the authors claim to “know” us to get a foot in the door. Anna may have been a little aggressive in her screening today—my apologies again.

I'll look forward to discussing all of this with you very soon. I'm including my personal phone number, which Anna said you'd misplaced, so please feel free to call if you have any questions.

Many thanks again, Sunny.

Best,
Angel

 

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Anna

Hey Angel—

Hope all's well with you. I'm sure you're super busy and I might be totally out of line here, but I thought you should know that Anna's been going through your desk a lot since you've been gone. Well, actually, she's been sitting
at
your desk. And also—I know this sounds a little weird—she's answered the phone a couple of times by saying “This is Angel.” She said she just got confused because she's sitting at your desk and that she had to sit at your desk because she has to do all your stuff now that you're gone, but I don't know. Like I said, it's a bit weird. Also, she's been feeding your fish—A LOT. He doesn't look good, Angel. I told her to stop but she said she promised to take care of him for you. I didn't think that sounded right. I think the only thing Anna knows to do with fish is eat them. Anyway, maybe you don't want to know any of this and maybe I'm just overreacting, but I thought I should tell you.

Thanks,
Jackson

 

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Anna

Hi Jackson,

I don't think you're overreacting and I appreciate your telling me all of this. Would you do me a big favor and just take my fish over to your desk before she kills it? Tell her I asked you to do it to take some of the load off her. As for the other stuff, yes, please keep me posted about what she's doing. And, not that I have to tell you this, but it's just between you and me, okay? And please make sure that you delete this e-mail after you've read it, okay? Thanks, Jackson.

Angel

 

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Anna

Hey Angel,

Not to worry re. deleting and keeping things on the QT. I'm glad you're not mad. You never know around here…. One more thing. I heard her on the phone (but don't worry, she didn't know I was listening) having an argument and then crying. Well, weeping actually. Anyway, she was talking to someone named Malcolm. She seemed pretty upset. Isn't your boyfriend's name Malcolm? Not that there's only one Malcolm in the world but still…

Speak to you soon,
J.

 

THIRTEEN

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: ?

Dear Ms. Robinson,

I'm wondering if you've received my most recent installment? You are usually very prompt, so I'm a little concerned about what might have become of you! And may I ask what are Ms. Fiamma's feelings about the manuscript to this point? One final thought: I am wondering if either you or Ms. Fiamma have discussed the possibility of film for this book?

Looking forward to your reply,
G.

 

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: ?

Dear G,

I'm sorry that I haven't been able to respond for the past few days, but I've been in New York City with Lucy Fiamma on business and am only intermittently on e-mail. I'll be back in the office on Friday.

I have received your pages and I've just finished reading them. I think that they're very good. This set is really in the best shape of all that you've sent so far. I think the direction you've taken is a good one and I also think you've really hit your stride. I'll be sending back my notes as soon as I return to the office. For now, though, here are a couple of questions I had:

I'm not totally clear on why Carol likes Alice as much as she does. It seems to me that Alice hasn't really offered Carol much to like? I guess the question is, what is Alice giving Carol Moore?

What has happened to Alice's own writing? Is her ultimate goal to publish her own work or just to have her name on a book? I'm not sure where you're heading with this and, while I like the underlying comment you're making about the “business” of books and the role of the writer within that business, it's important that we have an actual story here. Does this make sense? If not, it's probably because I'm getting kind of punchy. It's been a long day.

At any rate, I've shown the pages to Lucy and she's gone over them as well, although she'll be giving a closer read when we return home. But she's very enthusiastic about this book—so enthusiastic, in fact, that she's been talking about
BS
to editors while we're here and they are all very excited about it. The sooner you can get it all to us, the sooner we can get it out there! We haven't discussed film in any depth yet (it's a bit early for that), but Lucy has, as I'm sure you know, an excellent track record as far as selling her projects in that arena.

I'll have to sign off now as it's extremely late and my day will begin again in a few hours. Just one more thing…Between friends (because I do consider you and I to be friends at this point and I hope you feel the same), who are you? I promise not to tell anyone! Well, maybe Lucy! Seriously, G, do you think you might consider revealing yourself pretty soon? It's not like this book is giving away any national secrets or anything. It's a book about books, right? I guess the secrecy thing is kind of fun, but I don't really understand it. We're getting pretty close to the wire here, and if you want us to represent you, we're going to have to know a LITTLE bit more about who you are. Have to know where to send those checks, right?

Soon,
Angel

 

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: ?

Dear Ms. Robinson,

I am quite thrilled on all counts.

I'll look forward to your notes (and I do look forward to them—it's so refreshing to read them—you have an excellent way of identifying exactly what I mean to say, quite a talent), but in the meantime, let me address your questions. What does Carol see in Alice? As Ricardo stated, Carol sees
herself
in Alice and she likes the reflection. As I wrote in Chapter 2, Carol's rise to the top wasn't exactly without some questionable moves, but that was what she had to do to reach her goal. Carol sees the same drive and ambition in Alice. Of course, Alice is possessed by something that Carol is free of and that is the need to write. Alice is a self-loathing writer and clearly not very good at her craft. So her plan is just to take over, to attain as much power as possible, and then take the publishing world by storm. The catch, as I pointed out in Chapter 1, is that Alice wants to be a
legitimate
writer. She wants to write a bestseller, but she wants the accolades, too. She knows that Carol Moore is the key to all of this. As for her own writing—well, I thought I'd made it clear that she didn't deal with rejection very well. Of course, if you're not getting any of this, then I'm not doing my job, am I? Back to work I go.

To answer your last question about my identity, “all in good time,” as they say. I have my reasons for remaining anonymous, and as long as Ms. Fiamma is satisfied with my progress, I shall remain so for just a little while longer. As to your considering me a friend—I think we are both more and less than that now.

Here's to you, Ms. Robinson; coo coo coo-choo.

With best wishes,
G.

 

I was too exhausted to move. I lay on my hotel bed, where I'd fallen a half hour earlier, without enough energy to even pull back the cover, which I knew was laden with the filth of every person who'd lain there before me. I'd pulled back the heavy purple drapes before I'd collapsed on the bed and I could see a sliver of gray-blue New York City sky behind the crowd of brick and concrete walls. My feet and head were throbbing, but the thought of going downstairs to the lobby to buy an eight-dollar bottle of aspirin was overwhelming. It was my last night in New York and my first nonsleeping break from Lucy in days.

She'd gotten herself invited to a cocktail party that HartHouse was throwing in conjunction with HBO for a series based on a book by one of its authors and was going
alone.
In fact, she'd been adamant about keeping me away from any function or meeting that might involve Gordon Hart. And as much as I wanted to meet Gordon Hart, I wasn't disappointed that Lucy left me out of the meetings. I could only imagine the embarrassing things she'd think to say, and would rather never meet the man at all than be humiliated in front of him.

“Why don't you go get yourself some dinner in the Big Apple?” she'd suggested when I left her room after reorganizing her notes, responding to her messages, and preparing her for the next day's meetings. “If you can't find a good place to eat in New York City, you don't know what food is. Or better yet, you can order something in your room and get caught up. I'm sure you've got a lot of work to do.” As if any work I had to do was unrelated to her. “Anyway, enjoy yourself—this is your vacation! But don't get carried away. We've got a long day tomorrow and then you'll have to get yourself to the airport.”

Lucy had decided to take an extra day in Manhattan without me (which had entailed at least two hours of phone time for me, rearranging her flight and negotiating an extra night at the hotel at the same rate) and had given me no information about why or what she was planning to do. Which was fine with me. I'd never worked as hard as I had in the last two days or been as connected to another human being for such an extended period of time. I marveled at Lucy's energy level. She was unstoppable. She had to tire, had to feel the effects of her mad pace, but she never seemed to show it. I had begun to wonder if she was sucking that energy from me. Despite my suspicion that she was some kind of psychic vampire, though, I was impressed, almost awestruck, by her performance in New York. They didn't always seem (or even pretend) to like her, that much was certain, but every editor and publisher gave her their undivided attention for as long as she was with them. From what I could see, Lucy had no “pals” in New York. Nobody ever spoke to her as if she were a girlfriend or a buddy. Nobody asked about her hobbies, her family, or the details of her life. But every one of them, including the elusive Gordon Hart, wanted to know what she
had.

And Lucy had something for everyone. She had an encyclopedic knowledge of every editor's history, exactly what kind of books they liked, and exactly how far out on a limb they could go to buy. Often, that limb didn't seem to extend very far, but I only saw Lucy express anything less than brisk confidence once.

We were marching out of Long, Greene, where she'd just finished a meeting with Julia Swann, an editor with a number of adjectives on her stationery (executive, vice president, senior, etc.), but a very limited allowance for what she could buy. Julia had sighed when Lucy told her about
Elvis,
said that it sounded wonderful but that she doubted she'd be able to get it past her board. She was looking for the next
Da Vinci Code,
Julia said—didn't Lucy have one of those? And what was happening with Karanuk, for heaven's sake? Now, there was something she'd have carte blanche to bid on.

“This is a very difficult time to be in publishing,” Lucy said as we hit the street and headed down Fifth Avenue to her next appointment. “Nobody has any imagination anymore and they're all scared to buy anything that isn't incredibly safe or has been done before. I mean, really, how many celebrity children's books do we need? Or prizewinning authors writing
cookbooks
?”

This rare moment of doubt passed as quickly as it had come, though. Lucy was back on her game by the time we reached her next meeting, busily pitching her own celebrity children's books and literary cookbooks (because, of course, she
had
them) along with everything else on her list. It was really quite a sight to behold. Lucy must have known this, too, because, despite insisting that I fetch coffee and make copies almost everywhere we went, she seldom excluded me from her meetings. She wanted me to see her in action. At all times, Lucy made it very clear that I was her assistant, but as we circled New York City like hungry sharks in search of prey, I began to get the sense that she also wanted my admiration. She had it, of course.

After being attached to her at the hip for almost three days, though, I couldn't stand the sight of Lucy anymore. I was sick of her relentless rudeness, of the way she managed to make me look like an ignorant hick at every office we visited, never giving me an iota of credit for doing anything other than the most basic of clerical tasks, and I was sick of carrying her crap, literally and figuratively. But mostly, I was weary and unsettled by how
close
I was to her—of how she seemed to occupy every space of my being, under my skin and inside my head.

I also had the feeling that somehow she knew about my conversation with Natalie Weinstein and was just waiting for the right moment to drop some kind of bomb on me. Although Natalie had indicated that she wasn't about to tell Lucy, my anxiety wasn't entirely irrational. Anna had spoken to Sunny Martin and, for all I knew, had gone straight to Lucy with that information. If Jackson was to be believed (and I did believe him—I had decided that I had to trust somebody), Anna had been acting strangely enough to justify those suspicions and more.

I hadn't figured out what I would do if Lucy confronted me about Sunny Martin. I hadn't even worked out how I was actually going to
sell
Sunny Martin's book with or without Lucy knowing about it. All I knew was that I wanted to sell it. That book was
mine.
The last thing I wanted to do was to give it to Lucy.

I rolled over on the bed and faced the door. My laptop sat on a tiny desk, plugged in and wired into the phone jack, awaiting e-mail messages. The screen threw an eerie blue light onto my suitcase, which looked like it had exploded, spewing paper and clothing everywhere. Keeping Lucy organized required the constant pulling out and reordering of my own things. Taking the time to make neat piles had not been a priority.
Balsamic Moon
sat on the floor next to my copy of
Thaw.
I'd read all of those pages as well, and they were every bit as bad as Lucy had said they were, but I had ideas about how Karanuk could fix them. Despite the scattered story and disconnected paragraphs, Karanuk's prose still held grains of the genius that had made
Cold!
great. I knew I could work with that and I knew Karanuk could work with me. Maybe that was the answer, I thought. I'd try to trade my work with Karanuk and
Blind Submission
for a shot with
Balsamic Moon.

But, no, she'd never go for it.

After all she'd done for him, Karanuk would never take me over Lucy in any way. And while it wouldn't be as good,
Blind Submission
could probably survive without me. It was likelier that Lucy would just fire me. No, she wouldn't do that, either. If the last few days had taught me anything, it was that I was valuable to Lucy. Not
in
valuable, mind you. Nobody is ever invaluable. But I was valuable enough not to fire if she didn't have to. She'd rather try to make me so miserable that I'd want to quit, and if I quit I'd have to pay back all the money she'd given me in that hellish contract I now knew I never should have signed. And I couldn't afford to do that. So I couldn't quit and she wouldn't fire me. In all scenarios, Lucy came out ahead.