“Right?” Jolene nodded vaguely. “I don’t know much about it either—I just thought the fabric looked really nice.”
Raymond nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”
See what?
He turned and went upstairs. Jolene shook her head and went back to writing. She was now at the point where the female lead, Amy, faced all kinds of obstacles—threats from the oil conglomerate and being misunderstood by other employees’ families.
Amy didn’t give up. She reached out to several families of workers who’d all died in the same major safety accident.
In the end, Amy convinced five families. They agreed to pool money to gather evidence, and she took charge of organizing the pay stubs and finding proof.
That day, Brian called—just as Jolene had dropped the kids off at school and was home writing.
“Your royalties—$12,300 total—have been deposited into your account. Did you get it?” Brian didn’t sound as excited as he had before. The buzz from the news had died down.
And those 60,000 copies hadn’t all sold out—otherwise she’d have made more than $12,300.
“I haven’t checked the balance yet. I’ll go to the bank later,” Jolene said.
But Brian clearly had more to say. “Spanish and French editions are coming out soon too.”
“Oh, okay.” Jolene wasn’t all that interested in her first book anymore. If every book sold print rights this cheaply, she might as well change careers.
If it weren’t for that random news event, her first book might never have taken off. As soon as the media buzz faded, sales dropped off.
Writing wasn’t a stable job. Luckily, Jolene wasn’t a full-time writer yet—she still had her live-in nanny job as a safety net. Otherwise, she’d be back on the streets in no time…
“So… have you written a second book? Maybe it’ll be even more popular than the first,” Brian pressed.
“I haven’t started anything yet,” Jolene lied, shaking her head. “I worked so hard on that book, and thanks to some luck, I made $12,300 in a quarter—before taxes. If I’d been unlucky, I might’ve made nothing. So I’ll think about it later.”
When she said she wasn’t writing, Brian dropped the subject.
After hanging up, Jolene shook her head and dove back into Amy’s story.
Nothing interrupted a writer’s flow more than being pulled out of the story. Getting back into that emotional state took time—especially for this kind of emotionally charged writing. She had to capture Amy’s struggles, her defiance, her persistence against corporate power—the clash between ordinary people and a giant oil company. She had to make Amy feel real, a flesh-and-blood character readers could believe actually existed.
At lunchtime, only Jolene and Giovanni were home—the kids had brought their lunchboxes to school.
Ever since Ben had “beaten” George, he’d been feeling pretty smug. According to Ben, George never showed off candy in front of him again.
But Ben had gotten hooked. Every day, he had Giovanni make him a new lunchbox creation—all kinds of dessert shapes.
Giovanni was a professional chef, so no design was too hard for him. And since the kids at school would gather around to see what Ben brought each day, he’d actually become quite popular.
Since the employer was eating well, Giovanni was happy—otherwise, he’d start worrying about losing his job.
After a steak lunch with Giovanni, Jolene took a walk, wrote another 2,000 words, and then headed out to pick up the kids.
While Ben was at piano class, Emma pressed her face against the door to watch her brother practice.
Jolene sat quietly. She’d saved about $20,000 by now—enough to rent a place. But writing was unstable. If she couldn’t make money, she wouldn’t even be able to afford Emma’s piano lessons, let alone put food on the table.
After Ben finished piano, the three of them walked home.
Giovanni had just finished dinner—Italian risotto. When they came in, he set it on the table, wiped his hands, and said to Jolene, “Someone named Garden called—said he’s from Dell Publishing. He asked you to call back. I wrote his number on a sticky note.”
“Thanks.” Jolene walked over and picked up the note.
Garden Hall?
Jolene was certain she’d never seen that name before—and she’d never submitted anything to Dell Publishing.
She noticed Giovanni looking at her curiously, as if he wanted to ask about the publishing house.
Jolene didn’t want to lie to him, but she also didn’t want Raymond to find out she spent her days writing instead of focusing on her job. So she said, “I’m not sure why he called either. I’ll ask first.”
The call connected quickly—as if the person on the other end had been waiting for her.
“Hello, is this Mr. Garden Hall? This is Jolene Bell. You called me,” Jolene said.
The man on the other end sounded young and replied hurriedly, “Yes, actually, you’d previously submitted to HarperCollins. I was very optimistic about your book back then, but the editor-in-chief rejected it. Now I’ve moved to Dell Publishing, and I’ve recommended your book to our editor-in-chief again. Perhaps you could license it to Dell Publishing in the future. We’ll promote it alongside the September movie release and hold in-person book signings for you. I’ll also try to get you the best royalty rate possible—since you’ve already published a book with solid sales…”
Jolene was curious. After he finished, she asked, “So you really believed in my book and saw its potential, but the editor-in-chief rejected it outright?”
“That’s right. But it had nothing to do with your book—I think the editor-in-chief just didn’t like me,” Garden said with a self-deprecating laugh.
It sounded a little tragic. Jolene chuckled too. “I’m honored that you had such faith in my book. At the time, only Random House was willing to publish The Ex-Wife’s Revenge, so I signed a contract I wasn’t entirely happy with—it’s an exclusive license, so I’m afraid I can’t authorize it to Dell.”
Garden’s breath hitched on the other end—he sounded disappointed.
“But,” Jolene continued, “my second book is almost finished. Would you like to take a look?”
“That sounds fantastic!” Garden let out a relieved breath. “I believe choosing Dell will be a great decision for you.”
Jolene felt much better. “Alright. I’ll mail you the first ten chapters. Take a look and see if you like it. I’ll need a few more days to finish the rest.”
“Oh, is it also a 100,000-word novel? How much more do you have left—how many days?” Garden asked casually.
Jolene: “About half. I should be done in a week.”
Garden: “…”
There was a long silence on the other end. Jolene realized what she’d said and quickly covered her mouth—oops, she’d accidentally revealed her speed-writing nature. She wanted to add that if she had a computer, she could do 20,000 words a day. It wasn’t emotional, introspective writing—it was plot-driven, with a clear outline and formulas. She just had to plug in the story and research relevant details. How hard could it be?
“I write pretty fast,” Jolene added. “Once I get a computer, I can email you the manuscripts.”
Garden agreed. “Yeah, email submissions are really convenient these days.”
They exchanged mailing addresses and hung up. Jolene had finally found a second publisher to work with. And there was no way this was a scam—this person knew her name and number, explained he’d switched publishers, and she hadn’t given her number to anyone else. It all checked out.
“What happened?” Giovanni asked. He’d stepped away while she was on the phone, but his curiosity got the better of him.
“Just an editor from a publishing house. I do some writing in my free time in the mornings, and I send manuscripts to publishers to see if they’re interested,” Jolene explained briefly.
Giovanni understood and didn’t press further.
Garden moved quickly. When he called back, Jolene was in the middle of writing the later chapters.
“I’ve already applied to the editor-in-chief. This second book shares some themes with the first—both feature single moms, both have strong messages, and the opening continues the fast pace of the first, which grabs readers’ attention right away. It’s a great concept—the struggle between ordinary people and powerful corporations. The editor-in-chief is optimistic this time. I got you a 9% royalty rate with a $1,600 advance. Are you happy with that? If not, I can keep negotiating.”
Going from 3% to 9% was a huge leap. And Garden’s attitude was excellent—whether he genuinely believed in her or was just good with people, Jolene had a very good impression of him.
She hadn’t even mentioned an advance—he’d applied for it on his own initiative.
As a writer who’d already published once, she probably should have shopped around more before committing to a second book. But Jolene liked Garden, so she said, “I think that royalty rate is fair. To be honest, I don’t have much confidence myself—we’re both taking a chance here. Thank you for trusting me.”
Garden exhaled in relief and laughed. “I really do believe in this genre. To be honest, ever since I saw the potential in your kind of novel, I chose Dell Publishing on purpose. It’s a smaller house, but it’s more focused—popular fiction makes up the bulk of our catalog, which makes it easier to get the editor-in-chief’s approval.”
“That’s quite a bold move on your part,” Jolene said, impressed.
After hanging up, Jolene recalled news reports she’d read—apparently, top-tier authors could get advances in the millions. Even mid-tier authors with some recognition could command six-figure advances.
Unfortunately, she was far from that level. At best, she’d graduated from “new author” status. Most people couldn’t even remember her pen name—they just knew there was a book about a wife getting revenge on her ex-husband.
She didn’t waste any time. Now that the deal was set, she’d mail the full manuscript as soon as she received the contract.
Leave a Reply