Page 29 of A Bookish Story

Holy shit, my heart says.

I can hear Sofia telling me to “snap out of it” and answer the question.

“Um, you’re serious?”

Look, every author understands what a big deal it is to ask a colleague to read for you. No one has the time to read anymore, ironically. I understood from the experience of my colleagues that most established authors only read the first three chapters of a book when asked for endorsements. But those were usually given through referrals by a shared agent, editor, or publisher who were lending their credibility. There were only a handful of enormously kind and generous authors who would offer to read for a virtual stranger who simply asked. But clearly, Ryan owes me. Big time.

“It would be an honor.”

An honor. It’s hardly an honor. Now I feel like I’m being set up to fail.

“You shouldn’t expect too much. I haven’t been writing as long as you have.”

“I’m familiar with what you’re doing. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Belittle your work. I know how hard it is to write romance. That’s why I don’t think I can do it again. I prefer writing about war, which should tell you something.”

“You don’t seem to realize that makes it even worse. Only one book and look at the success you’ve had right out the gate.”

Ryan clears his throat. “My publisher put a lot of publicity into the book. They probably wanted to earn back the generous advance my agent negotiated. The idea of writing from a male point of view was unique enough there weren’t any other books quite like it. Sometimes you run into some luck. That’s all this was.”

I appreciate his modesty but it’s not helping.

“You should at least give me a chance to find out what Luci Santana writes,” he says. “You’ve watched me bleed all over the pages.”

I hang up and step back into my shed where Sofia is waiting for me.

“Everything okay?”

“No,” I say. “But it will be.”

“Is the professor helping you with all this?” she asks.

It’s a reasonable thing to assume, and I can answer this honestly.

“Yes, he’s been a huge help.”

CHAPTER 11

Dumped by my fiancé.

Living in my abuelita’s shed.

No more ghostwriting gig.

When I wake up hours later after a nap, the shadows of the dipping sunlight are dappling through my only window, but nothing else has changed. I’m still pretending to be Elizabeth Brogan, and I’m no longer writing for Desdemona.

There’s something I’m in the habit of doing every time I’m too upset to read or write.

I drive to a bookstore and browse. And then I browse some more. For hours. Doesn’t everybody? Maybe I’ll pick up a book or two, maybe five, because I have the store discount. But I always make myself stop at ten.

Grabbing my keys, I drive to the local bookshop an hour before they close. Yes, I’m grumbling while I do. Something along the lines of how no good deed goes unpunished or other cliches, which exist for a damn good reason. They’re true. I no longer have a secure and stable writing job due to a favor I’ve done for my employer. Fine. That’s okay. I live in a shed in my abuelita’s back yard, so expenses are low. The salary Ryan will give me for becoming Elizabeth might actually be enough to carry me for a year if I’m careful.

And after this summer pretending to be a published author, I might find other ghostwriting work. I can copyedit, find another research assistant job, teach, or go back to work as a barista. There are options. None of these are ideal, but even if I’ve relied on the Desdemona books to make me feel like a “real” author, this doesn’t mean my world has ended. I still have my book. The book I’ve been revising for what feels like forever, and maybe it’s time to finally start another round of querying agents. All I need is a little inspiration.

Inside the bookstore, I take a deep breath of the inky, slightly dusty smells of my youth. I haunted this shop as a child, hiding in the cozy corners filled with chairs and strategically placed soft pillows. A few years ago, the shop changed ownership and the pandemic nearly put them out of business. But the new owner bounced back, pulling in on each one of her many resources. She hired young people and asked them to curate sections and advertise the books they love.