Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“...changing landscape,” she says. “Last year, we published thirty-two books. Twenty were NYT bestsellers. Only two failed to recover our investment, and we knew those two were a risk. This year, we’re on pace to publish twenty-four books with the recent loss of three authors. They’ve canceled their contracts with us and signed with Landmark. Of the fifteen books we’ve already published, only seven have hit the NYT bestseller list.”
I know what she’s saying is only part of the picture. It’s bigger than a few canceled contracts. Unhappy authors are talking about shopping their next books with other publishers, agents are suddenly deciding our contract terms aren’t fair and trying to negotiate for pay rate bumps, and even some of our trusted advertisers are trying to back out or change deals. To put it elegantly, this place has been one big clusterfuck.
The reason is because Landmark is trying to run everyone out of business by using their deep pockets to operate at a loss. They are offering impossibly good deals to authors to bring them in and gain loyalty. Nobody can compete with their numbers, and it’s because Griffon Vanderlesh was a trust fund kid with hundreds of millions at his disposal. If he has to bleed money for a few years to see us go under, he’ll do it.
As a master of personal relations, I decide this is a good moment for calming down the troops. “It’s a down year. These things happen,” I say.
Jamie looks at me, seeming a bit surprised to hear me contribute. “In a vacuum, I would say that, but–”
“If you were in a vacuum, I don’t think you’d be saying anything except, help, get me the fuck out of here!”
Crickets. Alright. Not the time for jokes, apparently. I clear my throat. “Go on,” I say in my best “I’m a CEO” voice.
She gives me a look I’m a little too familiar with–something between drinking sour milk and noticing a toddler is smearing his own shit on the walls.
The rest of the meeting is just the staff lobbing out suggestions until Jamie goes to the whiteboard she loves so much and draws out an action plan. All the managers at the meeting leave with plans to wine, dine, and impress our existing authors. The people working under them are supposed to make extra efforts to kiss ass in all forms of communication, and so on.
None of it sounds particularly likely to move the needle, but I keep my mouth shut until it’s all over. I’m grateful to escape back to my own office where I’m not being bombarded with all the facts of our failure.
I’m surprised when Nolan knocks and asks if he can come in. He hardly ever comes to my office.
He walks up to the bookshelf and lifts one of the books there, turning it over. “Crime and Punishment?” he asks. Honestly, I didn’t even know you could read.”
“Funny,” I say, voice dry and humorless. “The guy who decorated my office picked out the books. I do have a little bookshelf at home, though.”
“Hmph,” he says, setting the book down. Usually, I’m the one in his office. It’s how he prefers things. He’s the one who is supposedly busting his ass and I’m the one who should have the time to make house calls.
“You need my help, don’t you?” I say.
He sighs. He’s still facing away from me, and I know my friend well enough to know this is hard for him. We used to be closer. Like brothers. I’d say we still are, but there’s no denying work has created a rift between us that has only been growing with time and with the increasing stress Landmark is putting on us. “I don’t know what your deal has been these past few months, but yes, I need you to be the old Jameson again. Do whatever magic it is you do with our authors. Find some diamonds in the rough for us again. I don’t need a less handsome, less effective version of myself. I need you to do the weird shit you do that always seems to work. I need you to be Jameson Fucking Wolfe.” He finally looks up and locks eyes with me. “Don’t make me beg.”
I nod. “I was just starting to get hard at the thought, but fine. I’ll spare you the begging.”
He flashes a rare grin. “Sometimes, I’m glad you haven’t let this life beat you down.” He chuckles to himself. “God knows I have..”
“You’re not beaten down,” I say. “You’re just boring and work obsessed, like half the country.”
“I want to save our company. It’s slipping away, Jameson. I can feel it. I can’t do this on my own. I don’t even want to admit how relieved I was when I thought you had that Charli woman in the bag with the next big book. But Landmark has fucked even that up, haven’t they?”