Cliffhanger

By a/k/a Simon
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A day late this week, but not due to my own laziness. Something is happening that I thought would make the perfect capper to this year of The Monkey House. As I start this column I still don’t know the outcome. Maybe by the time I finish writing I will. This year might come to a close with the happiest ending possible, utter despair, or a "Who shot JR?" cliffhanger. Keep your fingers crossed.

Dream Job #3
The Del Rey imprint of Ballantine Books is run by five people. Going down the ladder, there is Head Honcho, Captain Marvel, Bon Bon, Golden Boy, and Short-timer. Of course, these are all codenames. Over the last two weeks I’ve had contact with all of them. As of now, there is a chance that I might be joining their ranks.

I first met Captain Marvel while I was working at Ballantine. I’d heard that a former Marvel editor (hence the codename) worked at Del Rey, so I proceeded to hang my geek flag in my cubicle (by way of comic book posters) to attract his attention. Before too long I was having conversations with him about Jack Kirby’s run on Boy Commandos in the pages of Detective Comics and why getting the rights to the Hulk novelization is better than to the Daredevil novelization. I wasn’t crawling up his ass, just making a good connection.

Short-timer was friendly with Watts and I ended up going out to drinks with the two of them on a couple occasions. The day I decided to quit Ballantine, I was having lunch with Watts when Short-timer walked by. We invited her and her companion, Golden Boy, to join us. During that lunch I mentioned my possible deal at Doubleday. Golden Boy had just had a huge success with a new author (if you like Grant Morrison, read The Scar by China Mieville) and was given total freedom to sign anyone he liked. He told me, if I had any other ideas for novels, I should pitch them to him. So I sent him the idea for my second novel, which has about as much connection to science fiction as your typical Vonnegut book. I hadn’t written the thing yet, so nothing happened. But his interest was encouraging.

During the time I was away from Ballantine, Short-timer was promoted from Editorial Assistant to Associate Editor, which meant she was on the lookout for books to sign. Over another drink this past March, I outlined my second novel (which I was about a third of the way through by then). It sounded to her like just the kind of book she was after. I sent her what I had and waited. A few weeks past, which I was prepared for. Then something else happened that really threw a wrench in the works, which I wasn’t prepared for.

Short-timer applied and got a job somewhere else, out of publishing. The joke started that receiving one of my manuscripts is a curse, that any editor who gets one will soon be leaving their job, since the Doubleday editor was fired after reading my first novel. Funny, I guess, but it left me with fewer editorial connections inside Del Rey. However, it opened up a different opportunity, possibly one even more lucrative. With Short-timer gone, Del Rey would need a new Editorial Assistant.

I rallied my resources. I stayed in frequent contact with Short-timer so that I would know the exact moment they started looking to fill the position. I sent an inquiring e-mail to Captain Marvel, complete with my spectacular cover letter and resume. The wheels were in motion. But the wheels spun slowly.

It was a long time between sending in my resume and anything actually happening. But the time allowed me to work a strategy. The first week, when my resume arrived, Short-timer put in a good word for me. I had the outgoing person on my side. A week later I asked Golden Boy to say a few nice things on my behalf. I now had two of the five people at Del Rey talking me up to the other three. Week three was the time to send in Watts. Watts is a goddess to the people at Del Rey, their own personal Star Wars guru. When Watts has something nice to say about someone, they tend to respect her opinion. Outside of the actual Editorial department, she is one of the best people in Ballantine to have speaking for me. She had long conversations and sent e-mails to the three people involved with the decision. A weekend passed. The following Monday I was called to schedule an interview.

The Trials of Simon
Tuesday of last week I met with Bon Bon and Captain Marvel. We talked for over an hour and everything went extremely well. From my perspective, admittedly biased, I seemed to be a perfect fit with Del Rey. They gave me an unedited manuscript and asked me to write an editorial review as a test.

When I got home later that day the Human Resources department called me up to schedule an interview with Head Honcho. Apparently I’d passed the first trial and was on to the next. I met with Head Honcho and, again, things seemed to go as well as possible. All that remained was to turn in my test.

The test was due by this past Tuesday. I turned it in last Friday. Don’t let the speed at which it was finished fool you, the whole test was like one big trick question. They gave me a book written by an author of a series they already publish, which I won’t name. The author is an awful writer and I’m told his manuscripts are so heavily edited that the editors won’t even show him the manuscript after it’s been altered, to spare his ego. But his books sell decent enough numbers that the latest in the series is going hardcover, whereas all the previous books were only paperback. What can I say, Jerry Bruckheimer movies sell tickets.

I read the book knowing what to expect and I wasn’t disappointed. Let’s just say it wasn’t to my tastes. But he has a successful series going and was looking to start a new one. Did I think that this book could do that? Maybe. Like his other books, this one would require serious editing before publication. But people tend to go with what they know, readers are loyal. If he's sold a bunch of one series, it stands to reason people would follow him to another, for one book at least.

I wrote my review carefully, giving a plot summary, delicately suggesting changes, and explaining my reason for why Del Rey should buy the book. Watts read the review and said it was perfect. Word through the grapevine is that the reviews they received made the decision even harder. For a week now it’s been down to two people. Just me and one other guy. I’ve lost seven pounds in three days worrying about that other guy.

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part
Memorial Day weekend was a long weekend for some people. For me it was endless. I barely slept, awake through the night, until eight in the morning watching television before I finally passed out for a total of two hours. Monday I needed comfort food and ate an entire large pizza, plus half a tube of raw cookie dough, while watching wrestling. Since Tuesday I’ve been acutely aware of every tick of the clocks in my apartment. I shower with the cordless phone on the sink and I don’t use the Internet until after five o’clock, keeping the line clear in case they call. Go outside? Are you crazy?

Watts gave me another freelance job, due on Monday. I finished it yesterday, because I needed something to do. My screwed up sleeping schedule has become normal again. I wake up before eight so that I’m ready for the call if it comes, in bed by nine at night, because after business hours there’s no point to me being awake. Don’t tell me the time could be spent working on my writing. You think I can focus on coherent thoughts other than how badly I want this job? The only reason I could get this column done this week is because it’s about the damn job.

I have three dream careers. First and second would, obviously, be writer and illustrator. But the more time goes by, the more my third dream ekes up the chart and nudges illustrator out of the second spot. Number three is to be an editor. I’ve always felt that my strength is in being a Walt Disney, an idea man. I like working with creative people, discussing concepts and throwing things back and forth. When I was at San Diego two years ago, Bob Schreck, editor of the Batman line at DC, asked me what my goal was. As he looked over my art portfolio I told him I wanted to be an editor. He said, "If you want to be an editor, be an editor." Since then, my art has really taken a backseat to my other ambitions. I’ve taken every opportunity I could find to be an editor. Over the last eight months I’ve interviewed or sent resumes for every opening at every imprint or division that was hiring. Looking back, few of them would have been a good match. The one place I would fit in best would be Del Rey.

I’ve waited things out, hoping for a position at Del Rey to open up. As soon as I started at Ballantine, it was in my sights. My dwindling optimism tells me that everything is about to fall into place. I’ve started toward filing for bankruptcy, eliminating the mountain of debt I’ve acquired. I’ve avoided eviction twice now, and am finally back to paying my rent on time. If I were into astrology I’d say something like the planets are lining up in my favor. This is the moment when I should get this job. Eight months of unemployment has taught me some humility and to appreciate things I’ve taken for granted. My attitude toward work has matured and right now I’m in the perfect headspace for this kind of job.

Three influential people vouching for me, two killer interviews, a perfect review, and it all comes down to what the other guy has that can beat me. I feel like this is one of those make it or break it moments in my life. If this job doesn’t pan out, I really don’t know where to go from here. Would it be a sign that I’m not meant for publishing? One phone call and I could be starting on the path I’ve always wanted to be on, or facing a major reassessment of what I should be doing with my life.

5:02: still no phone call. Another weekend of waiting. I think I lost another pound just writing this column. Time for a beer.

From The Monkey House
a/k/a Simon
"Who shot JR?"

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