Page 14 of You Had Me at Chateau
‘Hmm, okay, right,’ she says as she takes in my words.
And now I just need to bring it home, to give her that ultimatum, to show her that I do have a say in this, and she can take it or leave it.
‘Otherwise, I don’t know, if you’re not happy, and I’m not happy, then maybe something is just off here,’ I say. ‘I think what I need is some time – a break – to really stop and think about what we’re doing here, and what we do next. I know that you have a bunch of authors, and you only want what’s best for us, but this is my book and after all of the hard work I put into it, I want the finished product to be something I can be proud of. I want to write you a book that you love – but I want to love it too.’
‘Amber, it’s like you’re reading my mind,’ she says, all smiles.
Oh, thank God she’s reacting this way, what a huge relief.
‘Yeah?’ I check, with a pathetic level of hopefulness.
‘Absolutely,’ she replies. ‘I’m hearing what you’re saying and there’s a lot we agree on. We both see how important it is that you stick to the publishing schedule we agreed on, we both think that this book needs to be something we’re both happy with, and we both think a break would do you the world of good.’
I almost smile until I overthink her words. It sounds like a threat, an impossibility, and a contradiction.
‘Well, you’re in luck, I have a surprise for you,’ she begins, shifting to the edge of her seat. ‘There is a ski resort, not too far from Chamonix in the French Alps, called La Coquelicot Blanche.’
‘Say that again,’ I ask quickly, because that was too fast and too French for me to take in.
‘La Coquelicot Blanche,’ she says again. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of La Coquelicot Blanche?’
I mean, technically I’ve heard of it three times today.
‘I’m not much of a skier,’ I say with a shrug.
‘Everyone has heard of La Coquelicot Blanche,’ she insists. ‘It’s where all the celebs go. Anyway, it’s like its own little village, almost, and they have a hotel, a spa, lodges and so on, and then they have this one old château in the grounds. It has been there forever, and a few of our authors hire it once a year, as a sort of pre-Christmas writers’ retreat.’
‘Sounds lovely,’ I say politely.
‘I’m glad you think so, because you’re going,’ she tells me.
‘Huh?’
‘You’re going. There is a free space, it’s all paid for – Dickie Woodrup was supposed to be going, but he’s had to pull out, for personal reasons.’ Jen pulls a don’t-ask face. ‘So the others kindly suggested I offered his place to someone else, seeing as though it’s non-refundable. They’re all romance writers, and you know them – Mandy Hess, Bette Hinton and Gina Knox – so not only will you fit right in but it will be the perfect environment for you to get this draft done. Just think, having the three of them on hand to mentor you, the advice they could give you. Gina especially writes a really steamy story.’
‘It’s Christmas in a couple of weeks,’ I remind her.
‘Exactly, your deadline is looming,’ she points out.
‘But it’s so last-minute,’ I add.
‘Amber, you’re always asking me to see if I can get you quotes, from the other authors,’ she reminds me. ‘And to get you into the networking events – and you once told me you would kill to get into one of these writers’ retreat breaks.’
I’m always asking her to ask the other authors for quotes and they always say no – usually because they’re too busy, but sometimes I suspect they’re just too busy for me. This is also why I ask her to get me into networking events too, and to get me into the writers’ retreats – not because I think writing wouldbe any easier on what is essentially a holiday (surely it would be harder?) but because I know that what I really need in this industry is friends. What is it they say? Find your tribe? Well, I don’t have one. Publishing is one hell of a cliquey industry, and I’m yet to find a group I fit into. Inside the groups you have a world of support, and authors give quotes for each other, and share each other’s books on their social media. Then there’s me, like a lost little lamb, struggling to make friends. It feels like school all over again, when we moved to a new town, and I suddenly found myself eating lunch alone. It’s a lot less lonely than eating canapés, staring at an abstract artwork, trying to style out standing alone at your publisher’s massive annual party. It’s a seriously strange sensation, feeling alone, when you’re in a room with so many people.
‘Look, all of the plans are in place – I’ll send you all the info – it’s all booked, so you don’t have a thing to worry about. So, go, take the time, and finish writing your romcom – your original idea, that is – in a way that we’ll both love, and then you can have Christmas without work on your mind,’ she says, adding extra emphasis to the words that are there to remind me to abandon my new idea.
‘I’m not sure I fancy it,’ I tell her honestly.
‘I’m not sure you have much choice,’ she replies. ‘What’s the alternative? Breach your contract? Pay back your advance? It all sounds so messy and unnecessary. Best to just take the free holiday, chat with the other authors, make peace with being a romance writer, and come back nice and refreshed, okay?’
I don’t know what to say. Not least because I didn’t actually receive an advance on my contract – but fun to know that other authors who are deemed more worthy still do.
‘Okay?’ she prompts me again, a little firmer this time, but it still comes with that dead-behind-the-eyes trademark smile of hers.
‘Erm, yeah, okay,’ I finally say.
God, I could really do without this, but I guess it’s a free holiday, and I do need to write this book so, ahh, maybe it will inspire me, maybe the others will help me? This industry really is so cliquey and the big-name authors like Mandy, Bette and Gina are great examples of those who only seem to support each other. So, I suppose I would be crazy to turn an opportunity like this down, if it helps me network. Perhaps if I spend some time with them they will see that I’m one of them, and who knows, maybe we’ll make friends?
