Page 90 of The Perfect Rom-Com

Nothing.

Not a single email from anyone.

Over the past week I have been spending half my time in self-loathing on the couch with a bag of chips and the other half emailing every agent and editor under the sun.

That part has been . . . challenging.

Half the respectable agents in the world seem to be at Jack’s agency, and the other half seem to declare they are “not taking on representation at this time” and follow the general “don’t call us, we’ll call you if we really want you” rule. Makes sense. The world is crawling with writers, and with social media being so popular, all they have to do is plug in “person with a million followers whom we can convince to write a book—or smile while we hire a ghostwriter,” and there you go.

And yes, I read and reread my contract a few times, and the most frustrating part of it all is, mum’s the absolute word on the only shortcut I could possibly take. I could be sued for every penny I have now and henceforth forevermore for revealing to anyone (particularly in writing) that I am Amelia’s ghostwriter.

And believe me, I’ve tried alluding.

But the challenge is, it’s nearly impossible to sound humble and successful at the same time with vague words. Without being able to give specific figures, I just sound ridiculous.

It’s gone more or less like this:

Dear so-and-so,

My name is Bryony Page, and while my name is unpublished, I write in the genre of romance and there is a high likelihood you have read my books. And seen them on billboards. And at the top of certain lists. For long periods of time.

I have a special project I’d love to discuss with you regarding my own manuscript. I’m pressed for time, so could you please message me at your earliest convenience and we can discuss?

With warmth and thanks,

Bryony Page

No socials.

No website.

No backlist of books.

So. As you can see, I’m a real winner. I waffle back and forth in my methods, half of them like this, the other the opposite, just in case.

Dear so-and-so,

My name is Bryony Page and I write books. I did have an agent up till recently, but he broke my heart and has proven to be a lying, cheating pig. But rest assured, I am capable of making you proud. I hope.

Please give me a chance.

Please, please, please please please.

Bryony Page

Again, no socials to refer to.

No website.

No backlist of books.

I mean, it’s really a wonder they aren’t pounding down my door.

As the curtain falls and the applause tapers off, Gloria looks over to me with hopeful eyes. Hoping to see that yes, The Lion King has cured everything. Every single problem in my life.

I fake the biggest smile I can muster for her sake and carry on clapping longer than most.

When she finally reaches for her purse, I do the same. Honestly, I feel like the couch is calling me.