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excolocrack2011-09-22 05:42 pm
valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com) wrote in excolocrack2011-09-22 05:42 pm
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This month's star title: Set-Up For Scandal!
In the last installment...
June 1961 - Val flirts with James in front of Ted, but James manages to make it seem like he's after Val's job so Val shows him the door. James compounds his error by badmouthing Ted and Val to Beryl and Kate, and then seeming to hit on Genny. Bad day for James! Ted decides to ask out Genny to annoy James, and Genny, Val, Ted and Beryl all go out for dinner to discuss plans for a detective romance series. Meanwhile, Syl and Al go out for drinks and end up in bed together. And Kate and Tess go out dancing, where Tess is confronted by her ex-girlfriend - but Kate doesn't seem worried by what this tells her about Tess.
Friday, July 7th, 1961, the office
So Monday started with hearing that Ernest Hemingway had died on Sunday, and that's set the tone for the week. I've had a headache for two solid days that's only just starting to fade, mostly due to a printing crisis with one of our runs. Let's just say that in three places the word "duck" didn't start with a d... The censors are getting pretty strict about obscenities these days, so that started my headache, and then I had the usual author-induced stresses.
At least this detective romance we're putting together seems like it's got legs. I'm looking at the cover Genny's drawn. The streetlamp's got a good glow to it, and she's managed to make the lady sexy and wholesome at the same time - not easy. The guy's just your average lantern-jawed gumshoe, but that's fine. And Beryl's put together a good story, though I've got a few suggestions for amendments. She's a cooperative sort, though, so I don't mind meeting with her, unlike some of our writers. And I have to admit she's easy on the eye, which is a good distraction from my other emotional woes...
I loosen my collar, because it's a hot day. I'm dreading August. Hope I'll get away for a couple of weeks because the city will be unbearable. It's not the best night for black tie, but I'll be sweating in a tuxedo anyway because this evening there's the Popular Fiction Publishing Awards, which everyone in the pulp game in NYC goes to - less for the prizes and more for the canapes and the gossip. There's always gossip. Me, I'm just going to enjoy the free champagne.
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I stroll out.
"Genny, Beryl," I say. It seemed silly to keep calling them miss after we've been out to dinner together. "Nice to see you. I was just working on your manuscript, Beryl. Genny's finished the art - it looks swell."
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"Hello, Genny."
"Oh!" I jump a little, and my hand jerks out to start shuffling papers. Where are the My Sister, My Love sketches? Are they covered up? Where are the - oh. They were on the bottom of the pile anyway. "Hi, Miss - Um. Beryl." I still can't get used to calling her by her first name, even if she did say that I could. "It's nice to see you." I really do like her.
"How was your weekend?"
"It was pretty good. We went to Coney Island again. I think it might be the only place in the city where it isn't hot!" Gee, I must sound dumb, talking about the weather and silly kid stuff like roller coasters! But I can't tell her what I was working on or thinking about...
And then Mr. Lackford's there, too! "Genny, Beryl. Nice to see you. I was just working on your manuscript, Beryl. Genny's finished the art - it looks swell."
"Hi, Mr. Lackford. Good to see you, too." I haven't been near his office in about a week 'cause I'm never sure what to do about Daisy. I want to see her! But I don't want to see her because what if she can tell what I'm thinking about her! What if he can tell what I'm thinking about Daisy? So first I went over by his office all the time and then I didn't go and then I did again and now I'm not going at all because I can't stop thinking about Daisy. I didn't even drop off Miss Graves's cover myself.
But I can't help smiling when Mr. Lackford says good things about it, because I know it really was good. "Thanks," I say, grinning up at them. "I liked doing that one. Have you seen it?" I ask Beryl.
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I look up and smile as Val--although Genny's calling him Mr. Lackford--arrives. "Nice to see you. I was just working on your manuscript, Beryl." And he's saying that quite pleasantly, which is always a relief. I have heard editors say that with such an edge.
"Well," I say smiling, "I hope it hasn't been too much of a hardship, although I expect something will need rewriting."
"I liked doing that one. Have you seen it?"
"I haven't," I say, and I try and keep from looking too curious, but-- well, there's something that's at least a little undeniably compelling about hearing about your own cover. "Although if it's no trouble, and if you happen to have sketches..."
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"You can see the thing itself if you want to pop into my office," I say. "And Emery - he does the lettering for covers, I think you've met him - has sent up a mock up of how it will look, though of course we've still got to finalise the title." I smile at her. "Did you have any ideas on that front?" Not that the author always gets to decide, but it's always worth letting them try anyway.
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Oh no - Miss Graves doesn't think I meant on a date! But it wasn't - I thought about asking Daisy but I couldn't! Not now. "Oh! Um. Just my roommate. And her sister."
Whew! They're just talking about work now. I make extra-sure that the cover with the horse is on top of the pile, and make myself think about detective stories instead.
"I haven't. Although if it's no trouble, and if you happen to have sketches…"
"You can see the thing itself if you want to pop into my office," I say. "And Emery - he does the lettering for covers, I think you've met him - has sent up a mock up of how it will look, though of course we've still got to finalise the title." I smile at her. "Did you have any ideas on that front?"
"Yes." I nod up at Miss Graves, smiling again. "I've got the rough drafts here, but I already turned in the real one."
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"You can see the thing itself if you want to pop into my office," and even without a mock up it's hardly something I'd pass up.
"I remember Emery," I say. "And yes, I'd love a look. And if you had anything to advise on the writing... ?"
I shake my head apologetically over the title. "It's been a while since I had to come up with snappy titles for a romance," I say. "But I would like a look, very much." Even if I don't end up coming up with something useful as result ."
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I lead her through to my office and take out the artwork.
"It's lovely, isn't it?" I say, after she's had a moment to look at it. "Genny's talent is really maturing. We haven't used her for mystery titles much before, but she's really getting a handle of the noir style." I smile at Beryl. "By the way," I say casually, "I was wondering if you'd be interested in going to this publishers' dinner tonight. It can be useful to see what the competition are doing." And Ted's bringing a date, he always does, and I'm not letting myself care about that. I am not. And I like Beryl; she's charming, and she looks lovely in evening wear besides.
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"Genny's talent is really maturing. We haven't used her for mystery titles much before, but she's really getting a handle of the noir style."
I'm prejudiced, but... "I think so," I say, smiling and very carefully not touching the work, although there's that natural instinct to reach out towards it. "A different kind of drama; I'd say it's a bit subtler, but that might be my liking the style." I am trying briefly to imagine a cover for The Killer Inside with dramatically billowing clothes and wildly tousled hair and... Well. I have no idea who did the cover for the second-last Duchess book, but I'm sure it wasn't Genny and I'm very glad.
"By the way," and I shake off the woolgathering and look over to Val, "I was wondering if you'd be interested in going to this publishers' dinner tonight. It can be useful to see what the competition are doing."
"That sounds lovely," and I realize I'm temporizing. Because part of what springs immediately to mind, and damn the man for it, is Walter Kent. It's not as if Val doesn't know about him, and it's arguably a business event, which would help, but--
I glance back to the cover and it's oddly reassuring. Pen names don't help with rumours, but they do keep them away from your work, and... I suppose the worst he could do would be divorce me, anyway, and it'd be worth it. "I mean, yes, I'd like to." Hopefully that wasn't too long a pause. I need to get home, change, swear at my closet... "When will you be getting there?" Smile a little. "And should I worry that you asked me before breaking out your notes?" I'm hardly enough of a prima donna to shun him over criticism--the man's an editor--but it's been a while since I've been asked anywhere and a little lightheartedness eases my nerves.
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"When will you be getting there? And should I worry that you asked me before breaking out your notes?"
"The dinner is at 7 for 7.30," I say, "but if you liked I could pick you up." In a cab, obviously, I don't keep a car, but still. I smile at her. "And if I had anything horrible to say about your chapters I don't think I'd have dared ask at all, so no worries on that score." I gesture at the chair opposite my desk so she can sit, and then I go through the notes. There's nothing very major, and I run through them quite fast.
"That's about all," I say, handing her the manuscript with my corrections and suggestions in the margins. "And thank you, by the way," I say. "It's been a while since I took someone I liked to something like this."
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When we're done I take the manuscript back, and this part is never exactly pleasant but there's something satisfying about having it done, I will say that. I think I can have the pages back early-mid-next week--the weekend's free right now, I won't hear back about the outline for Kincaid until Monday--but that's if everything goes well... "I'll aim for Friday, unless you need it back sooner?"
"And thank you, by the way," and I'm startled into a smile. "It's been a while since I took someone I liked to something like this."
Think of saying honey, I can't imagine why, and file the line away for the typewriter. A bit heavy-handed on the flattery for the office, I think. "Well, thank you for the invitation," I say instead, "and I'm glad to have a chance to go." Don't fiddle with the edges of the manuscript, and stand as I pick it up. "I'll see you in a few hours, then?" I live with Kate; I'm sure Daisy can get him the address.
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"Friday is perfectly fine," I say, "though if it could be by lunchtime I would be terribly grateful." No one likes working late on a Friday. "And yes, I'll see you later. I'll come by about 6.45?" I smile and watch her go out, and when she's gone I grin to myself and drum my fingers triumphantly on the desk. I'm pleased with how that went, and now I have a date I think I can go to see Ted (http://excolocrack.livejournal.com/19979.html?thread=3419915#t3419915).