Susan Kamil (Editor's POV)
"Jack, you're only 11 years old– where did the idea for Zootopia come from?"
The boy glanced precociously at the reporter before staring straight into the camera lens. "It's a bit of a story to be honest. Not exactly short. You sure you have time to listen?"
"Why– Of course! Please, do tell, our viewers are eager to know more about this!"
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, before his carefree tone disappeared into the wind, replaced by something far more serious. His gaze… it had a certain mature weight to it.
"It goes as follows. A year ago, there were 2 kids at my school, older than me by a bit, but we shared the same lunch class. For the sake of their privacy, I shall refer to them as X and Y. Hope that makes sense…"
"It does– continue, please." The reporter urged him on, shoving the mic an inch closer to his face.
He nodded before he went on, "X and Y were the best of friends. They used to mess around all the time, walk in hallways together, eat their meals together, play together in gym class– every conceivable activity that required a set of two, you can bet they did it together. Inseparable in every way that mattered. Y even punched a boy who was bullying X one day, that's just how close they were."
"Then one day I saw them leave school together, skipping away merrily until X reached his mom. And I was close enough to hear what she said next. I don't remember exactly, but it was something along the lines of– 'I don't want to see you hanging around that boy anymore, you understand?! His father went to jail for doing drugs, heaven knows what the boy gets up to at the shack he calls home!' Then she proceeded to pull him away towards their car and drive home… I can still recall the shock on Y's face as he heard every word uttered by his bestie's mum. He was heartbroken."
Pin-drop silence. The mic wavered slightly in his face, as the reporter registered the seriousness of what she had heard. "Now-now, are you sure you heard right Jack-" She tried to salvage what she could. Too bad, the boy was a notch ahead of her.
"The very next day, I saw Y enter the cafeteria looking for X, only to see him sitting with other kids… kids that he had 'something' in common with. He sheepishly avoided even glancing at Y… I could see the hurt on his face as he stumbled along to sit alone at a table on the other end of the room. Pretty sure I saw a tear or two." He finished with a dramatic whisper before looking up at the reporter in question.
"Now, you wanna venture a guess as to what the common factor between X and his new group of friends was? Hint, Y didn't share the same attribute."
Watching the reporter get caught flat-footed at the racially loaded question, I couldn't help but crack up a chuckle… at the kid's audacity if nothing else.
"C'mon, it's not Sophie's Choice by any means, you can get this– Hey, I believe in you." The mock wide-eyed sincerity with which he uttered those last words finally did it for me.
My chuckle turned into an uproarious howl.
Seconds later, I still hadn't managed to collect myself, and not for the lack of trying at that.
Well, at the very least, the boy knows how to command a room. He doesn't shrink under the lights, and the story… raw, unfiltered like a freshly mined gem, but the honesty cuts through.
And of course, not grasping the delicacy of what he's playing with. Racial tension isn't something you simply toss to a reporter like a riddle. Thank heavens for the fact that the interviewer didn't have a bite as sharp as a few do in the press, otherwise the kid would've walked himself right into where he's got no business being.
Though having read his work… something tells me he isn't as impulsive as that. Probably guessed his age and dry tone would've sufficiently disarmed the man behind the mic, and so barreled on without a care.
Interesting. Talented, no doubt, but a little rough around the edges.
No matter. I'll ensure the rawness is whittled away by a trained publicist before his media appearances. And the way the book's doing with an indie release… There won't be a shortage of them, not really.
He'll be in the spotlight for quite some time. America loves a heartwarming story after all, and a kid tackling racism and drug abuse at 11, or at least trying in his solemn, yet beguiling manner… They'll be eating out of his hands before long.
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Jack Ellison (MC's POV)
Now you're in New Yoooork
These streets will make you feel brand new
Big lights will inspire you-
"Jack!" Vincent called out, stirring me out of my reverie. "Yes?"
He sat beside me on the bench outside the editor's office. "We have finished hashing out the details with Doug on the line. And before you ask, yes. The film/TV rights will remain with you in their entirety." He nodded reassuringly.
I whistled in pride. "That's awesome, Vince! I was kinda skeptical, to be honest– Susie did seem a bit of a hard ass when we shook hands." I shook my head in resignation, remembering the dressing down she gave me for my alleged 'mishandling' of public appearances.
Right before she softened up, clutched my shoulder in comfort, and praised my talent and potential.
All in all, a mixed bag for sure. Though I got the impression that the tough love was really laid out to ensure I didn't get a thick head, a perfectly reasonable assumption for any other child in my place.
Too bad, I was one of a kind.
"Oh, she was ready to sweep me out with a broom when I even suggested the stipulation. Honestly, couldn't have accomplished it without the two, so for that, thank you. You made my job infinitely easier. She couldn't agree fast enough after reading the first 3 chapters of– 'Inside Out', I believe was the title?"
"Indeed." I nodded sagely, already picturing her jaw hitting the floor when she realized exactly what I could offer long term, that I wasn't just some one-and-done wonder.
"Also, the comic. She tried downplaying it, sure. But I saw it in her eyes. She was– for the lack of a better word, captivated. No wait, enchanted. Yep, that's the word!" He seemed more proud of himself for coming up with the synonym than for his successful negotiation in there.
"So, congratulations are in order, Jack. No longer can you be called a newcomer to the world of writing. 2 feature-length novels and a prestige graphic novel adaptation. Now, we managed to wrangle a favorable deal, 500k copies of 'Zootopia' to hit the shelves of drugstores, supermarkets, newsstands, and national bookstore chains by late-feb. As for 'Inside Out', we decided on a mid-march wide release of 300k copies to avoid the April 'flood' of spring releases, while capitalizing on your hype. Naturally, you'll be busy for the foreseeable months, promoting 2 works hand-in-hand."
"3 if we wait till July," I muttered, realizing exactly the level of commitment I had ended up making in my enthusiasm.
He nodded, his expression sobering up soon enough. "A media blitz on a scale never before seen for an author your age… guess all I can say now is– good luck." He offered, flashing a hesitant smile.
"Thanks," I whispered. "I'll probably need it."
Then the door to her office opened again. "JACKY!"
My mum threw caution to the wind, smothering me tighter than ever before… and I enjoyed every second of it. "Hey mum," I mumbled in her warm embrace, instantly feeling better about the PR grinder I was about to be put through.
She had this superpower frankly, just one hug was all it took to make things seem possible, and I was all the more thankful for it.
"Oooh– my little Jack-in-the-box is growing up…" She cooed, eyes tightly shut.
"Well, you're growing up with me too, so–"
"Oh, how dare you! Haven't I taught you not to joke about a woman's age?!" She swatted the back of my head, but it just made me fall deeper into the cuddle.
She wasn't angry, though. I could even detect a hint of mischief in her tone.
And for me, that was huge. If my Mom didn't care about propriety, then it indicated exactly how proud she was of me. She knew I had made the deal of a lifetime. Something that could change everything, not just for me, but for our family as a whole.
Sigh… Can't wait for dear old Dad to find out. Sadly, he couldn't travel across the country, owing to his obligations at the uni, but hey, he's got a car phone and a landline back home.
I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear the news. Not to mention the rest… oh God.
This is the part that I simultaneously adore and hate the most.
On one hand, I'll have to call every individual family member and share the news, a tedious activity in my rather humble opinion. But hearing their voice break in disbelief was also so damn satisfying… Sometimes, I feel like a sadistic little shit for having these thoughts.
Then I remember all the times they announced every little accomplishment, and paraded themselves around the room, practically begging for applause– and there goes my guilt, flying away merrily ever after.
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"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Peter Jennings coming to you live from ABC Evening News, and I am here to tell you that we have stumbled upon something unprecedented in American literature. It's the publishing story of the season, in fact– a child prodigy in California whose imagination has turned into a national sensation. Eleven-year-old Jack Ellison's novel, Zootopia, is being hailed as both whimsical and wise beyond his years. The book's first edition vanished from shelves within weeks!"
"Industry insiders are calling it a 'once-in-a-generation' phenomenon– and our sources tell us that the youngest bestselling author was spotted outside the headquarters of Simon & Schuster, one of the largest publishing houses in America, today afternoon. He was accompanied by his mother and a man who we presume to be his agent, indicating that his novel might soon be hitting shelves across the country, not just California!
"Vince." I turned towards him, "Call me crazy, but I thought with me being a minor, I would not be stalked by a national news channel crew."
He shook his head in pity, "Price of fame Jacky, sometimes the cost outweighs the return. Hey, on the bright side, least you look decent enough in that photo." He pointed at the screen, where a wide shot of me and my mum chatting animatedly right outside the doors of S&S appeared.
I wasn't convinced there even was a bright side in this scenario, though it must have shown on my face, given what Vince went on to say.
"Hey, the only reason they didn't pester you by getting up close was because you are a minor; Otherwise? You would've been practically swarmed with questions the second they spotted you, surrounded like predators circling a prey. You are, as of now, the youngest bestselling indie author, little man, and in their beady eyes? A walking, talking mystery waiting to be solved."
"... That makes a disturbing amount of sense."
"Of course it does, everything I say does in some way or the other." He smirked, receiving a stink-eye in return.
"Hey, we got a decent advance, didn't we this time?" I ask brightly, partly out of a genuine need to know, partly to cleverly change the topic.
He levelled an unimpressed gaze at me before responding. "Indeed. 25 thousand each for the 2 books, 15 thousand for the comic, bringing your total to a tidy sum of 65 grand."
"Also, how much would I take home if every copy sold out in the first run? Royalties plus advance, minus your fee and taxes, all in all?"
Halfway through my sentence, his smirk was back in full force, staying till the very end. "Aha! There's the greedy little bugger I knew! You think I wouldn't have it all prepared? Really, you shouldn't underestimate me kiddo, could turn out fatal sometime in the future–"
"If you have it all prepared, then do you mind…?!" I cut in, waving my hands in exasperation.
Yeah, I was a little impatient, so what? Sue me. I knew I would strike it rich before the end of this year; I just wanted to know how rich. The Sun & Moon deal left with a nifty sum north of 8 glorious grand, and this deal? If every damn copy sold out?!
Well, cracking 300 grand would be more than feasible in the most orthodox scenario by far.
"Let's see here…" He fished out a piece of paper from his jacket and squinted his eyes a tiny bit before rattling off as I clung onto his every word. "Now I haven't accounted for hardcover and special editions sales, and capped paperback prices at $5.95 for the 2 books, and $7.95 for the comic. Now, your royalty is a fair bit lower here, 10% and 12% respectively, since you accepted the advance and stayed firm on the media rights clause. Nonetheless… your gross figure would be 690 grand, give or take. Subtract my 15%, and you would be left with 585. Now I am no accountant, but the estimated effective tax rate for high-income bracket individuals, combining both federal and state, would amount to… I have taken 33% as a viable estimate. That would ensure you receive 392 grand after all deductions." He folded the paper, putting it back inside his jacket.
"Still a rather sizeable sum, and we are not even accounting for ancillary revenue streams– Jack? Jacky boy? You here?!" He snapped his fat fingers in my face.
Abhorrent truly, but ultimately justifiable. Considering my blanked out expression as I struggled to process the sheer weight of what he had said.
400 fucking grand… Easily over a million in my time, accounting for upcoming inflation.
My hands trembled as I resisted the manly urge to start dancing, screaming 'SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!' at the top of my voice.
Fucking hell, is my life going to change soon enough. Unfortunately, a significant part of it will be locked away securely from my greedy hands, probably in a Coogan fund or whatever equivalent they had. A trust, nevertheless, which I will only be able to withdraw from in its entirety after 6 full years.
As for the majority… Well, let's see now. I'm gonna turn 12 on 3rd Jan, and by no means do I plan to cheapen out on it… I don't think Mum and Dad would even try, given how the year went.
Huh… Maybe a Disneyland day, followed by a ball game with courtside seats? A luxury hotel stay added in would be the cherry on the sundae, I think. Now about the sprinkles on top…
Author's Note: Sup folks! With this chapter, we have officially crossed the 15k-word threshold. So please, oh please, don't forget to throw some stones this side, if you've got any to spare. I by no means consider my work to be a veritable masterpiece, but compared to the sloppily translated shit that dominates the top spots?!
Honestly, I would've been perfectly happy if original works had dominated them, even if they were shitty in comparison to mine. But AI-generated vomit with not a drop of artistic integrity?!?! That's where I draw the line.
If you agree with my train of thought, then please consider voting for original works overall. Not even asking ya'll to vote for this, unless you want to, of course, but just something written by a living, breathing human firing his fingers away at a keyboard all day for the sole purpose of your entertainment.
Not ChatGPT, or Adolf Grok. Also, what the fuck is wrong with Musk's AI? Going full-on Nazi on the regular on 'X' is batshit insane! Then again, going by the content on said platform nowadays... I'm less surprised than I thought I would be.