Page 41 of Is This for Real?
“You have three weeks to write forty thousand words, then a week to self-edit, so that’s October 9,” Esther says. “Then I’ll read it for a week, looking for gaps, plot holes, etc. You’ll give it to Strawbundle Publishing on October 16. That gives them almost two months, which may be enough time. And if they’re not interested, then you self-publish. If you decide to go the self-publishing route, we need to line up an editor starting October 16. While she has it, you’ll work on the book cover and peripherals.”
I write the deadlines down on my wall calendar—with its cheery pet pictures—and then put them in my phone calendar and planner. I’m tempted to write them on my arm as well.
“This seems very tight. If I publish a crap book, that will end my writing career. And I prefer to have a developmental editor look at it before I give it to your publisher.” I pace in my room, staring at the rejection framed on my wall.
“It’s not crap. You’ve shared the first five chapters with us, and they’re good.”
“Maria didn’t think so.”
“Maria is not your reader. Thick skin and all that. Maria clearly likes slightly depressed, bitter characters. That’s not your character at all. Don’t let her criticism get to you.”
“Are you going to add another antagonist?” I ask, powering up my laptop.
“No. At this point, I’m almost done with this book, and I haven’t heard that feedback from my editor, whom I trust more than Maria. But I’ll keep her comment in mind for my next book. Anyway, I’m your developmental editor for this one.” Esther sounds so confident.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
We hang up. Two thousand words a day. While keeping my blog going—because that is the driver. And don’t forget making a mini room box. It’s not possible. I give myself a stern talking-to. It’s my dream ticket. I can write and blog at night. Many authors write two thousand words a day. I’ve been coddling myself. If I want to join the big leagues, I have to step it up.Right now.
I write back toMini Mania, telling them I am thrilled to accept this offer and asking if I could includeFake Dating Folly, some of which parallels the blog scenes, as part of the charity donation. I revise my chapter, raising the stakes and addressing the other criticisms. I write the next chapter. I reread it quickly, and it’s good.
I get ready for bed, but I’m too wired from writing and the possibility of publishing. I pull out my miniatures to create another scene for a blog post. This time, Piper and Rob are at a costume party. All my different mini dolls—witches, wizards, my seventies Topper dolls, Cleopatra—are hanging out, and the scene really looks like a fun party. Rory loves costume parties and has a Halloween party every year. Piper and Rob stand in a corner, Piper looking up at him—like she’s about to tell him a secret.
I bite my nails as I think about telling Rory tomorrow that I like him. It feels completely different from telling Jamie. But that wasn’t pre-planned. I just blurted it out. And in this case, Rory seems to be having second thoughts, but that’s not what really scares me. What scares me is that if he says yes and then we date, and it doesn’t work out. Because it won’t live up to Rory’s magical expectations. He never says exactly why he breaks up with a girlfriend, but he does seem to shy away from conflict. I wonder if it also has something to do with his parents—that he doesn’t want to disappoint them, or even worse, become a case study for his father.
And if we date and then break up, I’m not sure we can then return to our comfortable friendship, and I need that. I have a three-legged chair of emotional support and he’s one of the legs. My chair will fall over without one of those legs. And I’ve chipped one leg already by lying to Olivia.
Chapter thirteen
Roryarrivesearly.I’mrereading yesterday’s chapter, which is total crap. I don’t know why I thought it was good yesterday.
My brain hasn’t yet clicked into top gear when he bounds into the living room. He’s looking good—jeans and a worn, olive T-shirt that brings out the green in his eyes. He kisses me on the cheek and sits on the couch, one arm outstretched along the back. I’m on tenterhooks, but he seems totally normal. That strikes me as a bad sign, implying it was just a momentary glimmer of interest because he was tipsy.
“You’re wide awake. Zelda is still sleeping.” I stretch. Rory glances at my stomach, and I pull down my T-shirt. I pick up my mug to make another cup of tea. I’m hoping it will jolt my synapses awake.
“I’ve already played two pick-up games of basketball this morning. Thought I’d better get my mind going before we face your sister.” He pets Gilda. I woke up early to walk her and then went back to bed.
I sit next to him on the couch, clutching my tea. “Did you win? I probably shouldn’t have stayed up so late writing, but I hit my two thousand words. That’s my daily goal now.”
“Tied. You’re going to do it?”
“I’ll talk to theMini Maniaeditor on Monday and see if they’ll include the book in the donation for the APT-TV auction.” I definitely feel daunted as I look at the schedule.
“Is Zelda joining us for brunch, or is it just us?”
Our couch is one of those comfortable, overstuffed ones, made for lounging. But right now, it feels like there’s a sinkhole in the middle, pulling us together.
“Jamie is coming, too,” I say.
Rory narrows his eyes. “And Willow?”
“Willow went back to Singapore. They broke up. Jamie said he doesn’t do long distance.”
“Nice.” Rory raises an eyebrow. “Poor Willow.”
“Yeah.”
“Are we going to continue fake dating now that Jamie is back?” he asks.
