The Hundred and Ten Pound Novel - Chapter I

Edgar Hathaway had no sooner finished writing his novel when the legs of his desk began to quiver, causing his inkwell to sputter then splatter a volcanic inky mess.

Edgar sensed the ensuing catastrophe and ran for cover behind his Chinese modesty screen.The weight of Edgar’s novel caused the legs of the desk to spread out in comic fashion, forcing the desk to make a decisive confrontation with the old oak floor.

Peeking out only when the dust seemed to have settled, Edgar shook his ink blotted face and sighed.

“Dear, dear,” said Edgar. “That’s the third desk this year.”

Edgar knew his novel would cause some trouble, but he figured the trouble would come from the public and critics, due to its controversial nature, not his furniture.

“But I must not fret,” said Edgar. “The novel is finished and a celebration is in order.”

Never having finished a novel before, Edgar was not sure how to go about it. Having spent the last thirty years writing the book, he never anticipated it being finished.

Thirty years ago Edgar sent a synopsis to a now defunct publishing house. The owner and editor-in-chief , Max Slater, was anxious to see the finished product.

Slater Publishing was a small publishing house that made a small profit wallowing in dime-store detective and cheesy romance novels.

Max Slater saw Edgar Hathaway’s book as a quick road to retirement. He thought it had all the elements of long term best seller. He also foresaw the huge profits on paperback and movie rights. He was so enthusiastic that he actually picked the spot where he’d build his retirement home, complete with an in-ground pool and cabana for entertaining.

As the years flew by, the editor grew weary of the wait, the unanswered mail, telegrams, phone calls and, as a result, promptly closed down the publishing house and retired to his old ramshackle house with the crab grass and mole infestation. And the closest thing to a pool was the flooding caused by an unattended garden hose.

Max Slater closed up shop, leaving knowledge of Edgar Hathaway’s novel to no one.

A family of fortune tellers now occupy the space of the old publishing house. Earning their way by any means necessary. From actual fortune telling to picking pockets, dog walking, selling bogus Romanian lottery tickets, and massage therapy.

Madame Tourdo runs the establishment with one fast rule: Rush them in. Clean them out. Show them the door.

Madame Tourdo received so many query letters and manuscripts, addressed to the former editor-in-chief, that she decided to get into the publishing business as well.

How hard could this be? she thought. Give the people what they want. There will always be someone to buy the good stuff, and more than enough to buy the crap. What do I have to lose?

She even felt a twinge of excitement as she read her first query letter.

Max Slater
Slater Publishing
215 Thompson Street
New York, NY 10012

November 12, 2011

Dear Mr. Slater,

I have written my first detective novel. It’s called Dick Dirkle, Detective Extroadanaire! I expect to have at least six Dick Dirkle novels finished by the end of the year. If you like the first one, you’ll most certainly like the rest. Because they can only get better as I write them. That’s the way I work. I don’t digress. I progress!

I know the novel may seem extremely short at twelve pages, but it’s the content that counts and if you add several bad-ass illustrations along with my marvelous way with words, you’ll have a killer book on your hands. Please read and advise.

PS. I’ve enclosed ten dollars. I thought you might enjoy a nice coffee and cake while you read. Try not to spill any on my manuscript, or I might have to have Dick Dirkle come over to investigate. Ha. Ha.

Yours truly,
Richard Dirkle

Madame Tourod’s response was ready and quick.

Richard Dirkle
Attica Correctional Facility
Prisoner 1728496
Attica, NY 14011

November 15, 2011

Dear Mr. Dirkle,

I am on the floor with excitement! Your book is a delight to the senses! How fortunate we are to have this tremendous work cross our threshold! There are not enough exclamation points to emphasis our enthusiasm!!!!!!!!!!

We will, of course, publish your work. I was on the edge of my seat as your wonderful characters jumped from page to page in this glorious and timely adventure.

Now if you will only send two hundred and twenty five dollars for the first six printings to be in your possession, and your possession alone (who knows what these first editions will be worth in the years to come!), we will have ourselves a happy deal. With more to come, I’m sure, in the years to follow!

PS. Thanks for the coffee. And please feel free to send along coffee money with your future work. We will consider it a tradition here at Slater Publishing.

And when they write your biography, and they surely will, people will think you strange and eccentric. It would also help sales if you happened to have shot your lover or dressed down a fellow writer’s new book by saying something clever like, “You certainly know a lot of words, if arranged properly they would have made a nice novel. ” Ha. Ha.

Yours truly,
Max Slater
Slater Publishing
Editor-in-Chief and CEO

Madame Tourdo never actually read any of the manuscripts. But she did enjoy writing responses to the queries. And once the money was in hand, she would scan the manuscript onto her computer and make as many copies as necessary. She would then have them properly bound at the local copy store. After which she would Photoshop a proper cover and put it together with the bound book and ship it off to the anxious writer.

All at a cost of six dollars a copy. Making a profit of one hundred and eighty nine dollars, not including postage.

Publishing one writer a month was enough to pay the cable and electric bill.

Madame Tourdo was liking the publishing business very much. And the sack of letters at her desk was very encouraging, indeed.