Laureen's Manuscript (short story) 2/4 by Leanne Dyck

(Link to part 1)

photo by Leanne Dyck

Laureen's submission arrived at Acquisition Editor Cora Green's laptop at 5 AM on a Monday morning. Cora's padded wall cubicle was sparsely decorated—a notepad and a small glass jar full of pens sat on the corner of the desk. Cora's purse was in a drawer. She'd obtained the job two months ago—celebrating by drinking and dancing too much at a pub with a few friends. The next day she'd paid for the fun with a headache.

Because the submission was one of too many, it sat unread, unnoticed, until 9 PM Saturday night. It would have waited longer, but Cora's boyfriend of three weeks stood her up with some lame excuse of coming down with the flu.

"Sure. I understand," she'd told him, over the phone. But she hadn't.

I should dump him, she told herself. But she knew she wouldn't. He was just too cute—sandy blond hair, large green eyes, and a dimple. It was the dimple that melted Cora's heart and made her think that he was a sweet guy.

***

Monday morning, Mr. Thomas Knight leaned over his desk in his corner office, jotting notes regarding an upcoming marketing campaign into his overstuffed suede-bound Day-Timer. Swiveling in his chair, Thomas faced his computer, strolled through his emails, and discovered that Cora had forwarded a submission. His mood darkened. 

"Cora, you know I prefer a hard copy. Please deliver this submission to my office," he typed.

***

After reading Mr. Knight's email, Cora immediately set to work, and moments later, the printer spit out the last page. Times like these she felt like a golden lab playing fetch. I should have told him to print his own copy. I should have... Cora fumed as she headed for Knight's office. But she knew she'd never complain—she was too intimidated by him and enjoyed her job too much to make waves.

Mr. Knight's voice drifted through the crack between the door and the doorframe. "Just calm down. Calm down."

Cora poked her head through the gap.

Mr. Knight waved her in. "Just a second, please," he told the caller and cupped his hand over the phone. "Thank you, Cora. Please leave it on the desk."

Cora did as instructed and then left quickly.

Part Three

More...

What Does An Acquisitions Editor Do? by Joyce Gram (editor)

Acquisitions Editor from the Inside Jobs web site

I published an article with Acquisitions Editor, Sunny Frazier (link)

Next post:  Part 3 of Laureen's Manuscript (Focus on Thomas Knight, publisher)

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Laureen's Manuscript (short story) 1/4 by Leanne Dyck

I hope you enjoy part one of this four part metafiction short story. 

"Flower in my pond"

photo by Leanne Dyck 

This suburb of Victoria on Vancouver Island had no shortage of fascinating characters. And they existed in the most unlikely of places. The house was grey stucco with a concrete walk that led to a white door. Neighbors would never have guessed the adventures that occurred within its walls. People were born, lived, and died—sometimes at the hands of a murderer. Laureen Torgelson witnessed it all. Some would have said that she and her pen created it all. The adventures had begun shortly after Laureen had been laid off from her teacher-librarian position at the local high school.

Even though Laureen was well over forty, she looked much younger. Retaining youth was hard work; she wore night cream and in the morning plucked grey hairs from her temples. That is to say, she used to. Lately other people's lives had taken over hers. She loved spending time with these people. She didn't want their relationship to end, but she'd known from the start that this was the desired outcome. In fact, she'd religiously worked to achieve this goal. Still, it was with no shortage of trepidation that she'd told herself, Today is the day.

Laureen leaned towards her computer screen. She read the email she'd been writing-- checking for verb tense, spelling accuracy, and clarity of meaning. "Please accept the attached ten pages, or should it read, 'Please find'?" Laureen wondered aloud—talking to herself; that too was new.

She'd read the attached pages half a dozen times. And she recited words, phrases, and paragraphs in her sleep—annoying her husband. But he knew how much stress she was under, so he'd rolled over and tried to ignore her.

Jon often told his air traffic control co-workers. "I'd never be a writer. It's way too stressful."

Laureen rubbed the belly of the Buddha doll that sat on the windowsill beside her desk, kissed her fingers, and ran them across the computer screen before she pressed send.

"Oh, no. I shouldn't have done that. Not yet. I wasn't... It wasn't ready," she moaned five seconds later as she paced the length of the back bedroom that had become her writer's den. It's all too late, she thought and crumpled into a tight little ball in her chair.

She breathed out slowly and visualized her email travelling in cyberspace past grey granite mountaintops and through golden yellow wheat fields to a glass and steel office tower in Canada's largest city—Toronto, Ontario.

Part Two

"Beauty in my front yard"

photo by Leanne Dyck

Next post: Part two of Laureen's Submission (focus on Acquisitions Editor, Cora Green)

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What is metafiction? 

Answer:  click this link

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