AN: Apologies for publishing it again, my app was glitching hard, and I couldn't open this no matter what.
Jack Ellison (MC's POV)
"…and remember," Mr. Caldwell said, tapping the chalkboard where the Berlin Wall - 1961 was underlined twice, "this isn't just a wall of bricks. It's a symbol of fear and control during the Cold War." He turned, dusting his hands, eyes sweeping over the half-awake class. "Imagine waking up one morning to find a barrier cutting your city and your family in half. That's the kind of tension shaping the world you live in today."
8th-grade history. What a delight.
Interesting stuff being covered, no doubt, but when you are already intimately familiar with a far more nuanced and informative take on it from the future… it gets boring pretty damn fast.
And so, seated at the very back of the class, under the guise of studiously taking notes, or at least executing a rather impressive farce of it… my next project completely dominated my focus.
I looked up from time to time, nodding at all the right intervals, all the while penning down what I am sure will have a rather profound impact on mental health awareness.
My hand scribbles away on the paper as I try to redefine the story to match not only the gender flip but also the literary medium as a whole.
Joy rattled the locked door of the Thought Vault, his usual grin replaced by a frustrated scowl. "Great," he said, kicking the metal frame lightly, "we take one wrong turn and boom, we're stuck in Ethan's deepest worries." Sadness sat on the floor nearby, chin in his hands, murmuring, "Maybe… we're supposed to stay lost for a while."
The chamber flickered dimly, walls covered in scribbled what-ifs and half-formed fears that buzzed like angry bees. Joy paced in circles, glancing around for any hint of a path out. "No way," he said, voice firm, "Ethan needs us in there, we can't just sit here and let Fear run the whole show."
They tried prying open a narrow hatch that led to another corridor, only for it to slam shut the moment Sadness touched it. "Figures," Sadness muttered, shoulders slumping. Joy grinned despite himself, saying, "Don't worry, buddy, we've gotten out of worse scrapes. Remember the time we were stuck in Regret's filing cabinet?"
As they searched, faint tremors rippled through the floor, each one a burst of confusion from Ethan's real-world mind. Joy finally spotted a small, crooked vent glowing faintly in the corner. "There!" he whispered, eyes brightening, hope creeping back into his voice. Sadness pushed himself up slowly, muttering, "If it's another dead end, I'm blaming you," as they crawled toward their uncertain escape route.
Huh.
I might have been a piss poor chef previously, but sometimes… I cook hard.
I exhale lightly, just as the bell rings.
"Ok, class, I will be taking a short quiz next Monday on the 2nd chapter. Be sure to ignore the 4th subsection as it's out of the syllabus." A subdued cheer followed. "Don't be too quick to celebrate, it will be there in the midterms." The class was filled with groans as the students shuffled around, trying to exit the room first, like they would win a medal for it.
Naturally, I took my time, not wanting to get swept away in the crowd. It was already hard enough being the shortest guy around, and to make things worse, I was also the lightest. Not to mention my voice being the only one that has not yet cracked.
What can I say, puberty just hadn't hit me like a truck yet. And while I cannot wait long enough to grow up… a part of me is also dreading it.
Sue me, but no transmigrator I bet, ever looks forward to having the cocktail of hormones brewing about in his teenage body, unless he is a complete and utter degenerate. Something which I thankfully do not categorize as.
And with that depressing thought, I packed my bag and promptly made my way to the locker to grab the books needed for the next class, doing my level best to enjoy the peace I am afforded by my 'peers'... while I still can.
Heaven knows I'll be accosted by the lot tomorrow, considering what Doug's been planning.
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Douglas Messerli (Editor's POV)
"All right, folks!" I loudly clap my hands, all the while pacing around the whiteboard, "Let's go over this one last time, shall we?" I say to a cacophony of groans.
I sigh audibly, rubbing the bridge of my nose, "Listen, I understand I have been acting like an absolute dick the last few days-"
"Add a damn tator at the end, Doug!" Owen loudly snaps, his eyes puffy and red from the sleepless nights endured.
"... I may have crossed a line, I now see that. I am sorry, Owen, for what it's worth." I see him visibly deflate before continuing. "BUT- and I cannot possibly stress this enough, so for the sake of all that is good and holy, hear me out now… This is the single most important book launch we have ever handled- Don't deny it! I know for a fact that every single one of you has read the book and knows exactly how much pandemonium we'll be unleashing… in a month at best."
They all shuffle about in their seats, avoiding my gaze, all the while exchanging glances left and right.
"So now, let's start with Eugene." I turned to him. "The press kit, is it finalized?"
"Yes, complete with a bio and the pic of him writing on his desk, the short letter from you, and relevant quotes from early readers, including but not limited to Wanda Coleman, Amy Gerstler, and Dennis Cooper, no idea how you managed the last one by the way." He said, shaking his head in slight disbelief.
"Oh, Dennis is an old friend, we meet up for lunch every now and then. Good work, old chap!. Vivian, how's the media outreach going?"
She pushed her glasses up before rattling off. "Letters of Introduction have been prepared to be sent out to NPR affiliates and relevant Teen Mags, the LA Times, and the San Francisco Chronicle. The NY Times Book Review has not been included yet, but we will reach out to them by the weekend. A few other local publications have been contacted and have responded positively."
"Wonderful! Music to my ears. Now Owen-"
"The LA Unified School District librarians and English teachers received ARCs via mail last week. They are looking forward to scheduling school visits next month, starting mid-October. The local libraries, particularly the LA public central branch, have shown some skepticism, but give them some time – they'll come around. We'll get reading events off the ground sometime late October, before Halloween, most likely."
"Fucking libraries…" I mutter, shaking my head in resignation. "Darren, what's the update on bookstores?"
He looks up from the document he was reading, before sifting through the pile of papers in front of him. "The special early copy? That's been sent out last week, and Chatterton's in Westwood and Papa Bach in Santa Monica have responded back. Uh, more like raved about it to the high heavens, so we're expecting them to feature it in their front windows for the release week, possibly the subsequent week as well, depending on a coterie of factors. The latter is open to a book signing; the former will probably acquiesce soon enough. A few other local bookstores have agreed to feature it and advertise a little on our behalf; they'll hand-sell it, I have hard guarantees on that as of now."
I nearly erupt in celebration, composing myself at the last possible second. "Brilliant! Wonderful work done on all ends, people! Suffice it to say, I am quite proud of what we have accomplished. Now just to keep you all in the loop, I've 'let slip' a few early chapters to promising poets, novelists, critics, etc in my network. A little word-of-mouth campaign among the literary elites to get the ball rolling, so as to speak. Because remember, our campaign is not focused solely on achieving commercial success… critical excellence is just as essential, if not even more so."
"Now, a few of them will mention it in passing in a few interviews and essays here and there, build a little underground hype in all the right places… yeah, that's all on my end." I finish, after trying and failing to come up with what I could have possibly missed.
Then Vivian raised her hand, sheepishly, but her gaze was resolute. "Sir?"
"Call me Doug, you've earned it, really."
"Doug then… I was thinking if we could lean a little more into the 'young author' angle, a couple of live interviews aren't out of the picture. I got a friend working backstage at 'Good Morning America', you want me to see if they can squeeze Jack in? Could be something-"
"You good friends with them?"
"Well, we were roommates at college, so… I'm guessing it's worth trying if nothing else." She replies with a contemplative countenance.
I pause for a second before saying, "You know what? I think a face-to-face would make all the difference here since they have a bit of a vetting process. You mind inviting her here? I'll talk to Jack, get him to charm their pants off like the kid does, be a cutie patootie… contextualizing it as a way to impact their TRP could work… Yeah, sounds about right. You talk to them, and get back to me ASAP, this could be significant, you hear?"
She bobbed her head rapidly in agreement, as she let out a breath I never noticed she was holding in. "Good thinking there, Viv, you took some real initiative. I like that."
"Thanks, Bo- Doug."
"No really, you better look forward to a hefty bonus end of this year, got it? As a matter of fact, all of you will be getting one if we knock this out of the park. And the kid didn't even throw a breaking pitch, it's a damn fastball down the middle– we should be ashamed of ourselves if we don't smack it into the stands, got it?!"
"Loud and clear."
"Don't gotta tell me twice."
"Yeah– I am locked the fuck in, don't worry."
"Magnificent, exactly the attitude I was looking for!"
After an hour more of various discussions and ideas bouncing back and forth, I dismissed them for the day, recognizing their exhaustion.
I am a good Boss.
… I think.
Whatever.
I finally retire to my office and swiftly park my ass in my cushioned armchair, picking up a copy from the table.
A hefty 300+ page trade paperback with a matte cream cover, its spine wide enough to command attention on a small press-shelf. The cover illustration, drawn by the boy wonder himself, showing a dense rain-slick city in the backdrop, where a fox and a rabbit cross paths under a flickering neon.
A work of modern art, where ink and paper have replaced traditional paint and canvas, and yet somehow paints a more vivid picture of its central theme than any mural on the streets of this city.
My lips curl into a smirk as my anticipation for the date rises sky high.
November 5th.
Can't appear fast enough, as far as I'm concerned.
The kid's gonna strike it bigger than any his age in all the right places, and my publication will share the spotlight, even if diminished in comparison, nevertheless… notable.
And the revenue. Oh sweet Jesus, the cold hard cash… A paperback costing $6.95 and a limited hardcover edition for $14.95.
I was tempted to drool.
Believe it or not, but experimental work, while earning high notoriety in the right circles, didn't translate all that well in sales. Sales barely exceeded 10k copies, with the rare exception performing above and beyond, garnering close to 50k.
And here I was holding a rare anomaly in my very hands. Something if marketed earnestly to the right demographic had the potential to sell over a million motherfucking copies the first year.
Something, if utilized to its maximum potential, could very well pave the way for a European expansion, all things considered.
… Should I give Bessie a raise? Her work isn't noteworthy by any means, a cut above mediocre at best. But business is business, and with Uncle Sam, capital is king.
Shaking my head free of the intruding thoughts, I resolved to wait for the release and press reactions before resolving to undertake further financial commitments.
No point after all in spending money I haven't seen yet.