Elite House - The Final Chapter

[FONT=&quot]Chapter One[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate turned the envelope over and over. She examined the address, the postmark, even the bar code. She brushed an imaginary speck of dust off the right corner. The stationary, thick and an expensive ivory color, immediately told the recipient that the sender holds them in high regard. The contents of the envelope would change her life. One more time she reached for the letter opener but couldn’t bring herself to use it. She replaced the envelope back in the drawer. Her future would have to wait. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The phones frantically buzzed and blinked when she arrived at her desk at Hollingsworth, Grant, and Spentshire, one of the largest law firms in [/FONT][FONT=&quot]New York City[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. Sheree, Mr. Hollingsworth’s assistant, glared, at Kate as she shrugged off her coat, placed her purse in the drawer and plugged in her headset in one fluid motion. Her job as a receptionist required little original thinking, some drudgery and a lot of patience. But her reasonable salary and the flexibility in the hours allowed her finish her degree in English. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Now those precious initials, B. A., Bachelor of Liberal Arts, would open the doors to a new world. Her reverie was interrupted by Sheree’s shrieks. “Mr. Hollingsworth is expecting one of the firm’s most important clients and this time doesn’t want Mr. Shearson kept waiting. Do you understand? Buzz me immediately when he arrives.” Sheree turned on her heel and in the process her elbow knocked off several of the firm’s glossy four color brochures to the floor. Her heels clicked on the imported marble tile as she strode down the corridor. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate picked up the brochures and carefully placed them on the counter. She noticed an older man, apparently dozing in the sunlight. Those chairs are especially comfortable, she thought. Something about the man caught her attention. While his head rested on the back of the chair, the angle was odd and a ribbon of drool pooled on the cushion. She shook the gentlemen. He slumped completely over and slid to the floor. She listened for a heartbeat. None. She placed her fingers at his neck on the carotid artery. Nothing. Kate raced back to her phone system, jammed in the headset, and hit 911. She returned and started CPR, trying desperately to remember the exact sequence before panic took over. Within minutes the paramedics arrived. After the confusion and excitement had settled and the medics were safely on the way to the hospital with their patient, a tall distinguished looking man approached her. He held his briefcase in both hands. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Could you please tell Mr. Hollingsworth that Mr. Shearson is here to see him. I had a [/FONT][FONT=&quot]10:00 AM[/FONT][FONT=&quot] appointment and I do realize that it is now [/FONT][FONT=&quot]10:20[/FONT][FONT=&quot], but I didn’t want to interfere with all the confusion and medical equipment. I’m sure he’ll understand.” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate flushed the color of her lipstick, “I am so sorry to keep you waiting, I didn’t realize you were here.” She dialed Sheree’s extension. “Sheree, Mr. Shearson is here and I …” Kate found herself talking to a vacant line and in less than 90 seconds, face to face with a very upset Sheree. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“I told you not to keep him waiting,” Sheree hissed under her breath. “I don’t care if the paramedics were here, I don’t care if the President of the [/FONT][FONT=&quot]United States[/FONT][FONT=&quot] had a heart attack in the lobby. I told you to buzz me immediately. You may consider yourself on 30 days probation.” Sheree’s face rearranged itself into a welcome mask as she greeted Mr. Shearson and escorted him to the conference room. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Lunch with her best friend, Anne Lansing, was a welcome release from the office. Kate ordered her favorite, the Oriental chicken salad with fat free dressing and a diet soft drink. And so did Anne, although her favorite was the chicken and ribs platter with French fries, or American fries, as Anne preferred to call them. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“I tried that Atkins diet and then the [/FONT][FONT=&quot]South[/FONT][FONT=&quot] [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Beach[/FONT][FONT=&quot] diet and neither worked. I had to adjust them a bit though. I just absolutely can not give up my midmorning bagel and cream cheese. Or the double chocolate whipped coffee that gets me through the afternoon. But just look at you, you never diet and you look great.” Anne gestured with a fork full of fries. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] “Are French, I mean, American fries allowed on Atkins? And no, I don’t diet, but I do try to be careful.” Kate’s efforts paid off. She was a size ten and had been since graduating high school eight years ago. “I also try to walk at least 30 minutes every day.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Anne looked at the American fries suspiciously and pushed them to the side of the plate. “Have you opened the letter from Elite House yet?” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“It’s only been two days. It’s the very last response to all my applications. If it’s no, I mean if they decline, I have to start all over again.” Kate wilted as she contemplated that alternative.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The remainder of the day passed quickly for Kate at Hollingsworth, Grant, and Spentshire. No more medical traumas or Sheree dramas. Just serving up tea and coffee and a smile to waiting clients. Forwarding calls and evading callers with the ever so popular, “I’m sorry he’s in a meeting, may I have him return the call?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Waiting for the bus to take her home, her thoughts scattered about her like pigeons around a crust of bread. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]New York City[/FONT][FONT=&quot] held such promise for a girl from the [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Midwest[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. But now after six years of struggling, struggling to finish her college degree, struggling to make friends, struggling to maintain her job, struggling to end her marriage, Kate was ready for a change. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT] [FONT=&quot]Chapter 2[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The envelope from Elite House beckoned. There’s no sense putting off the inevitable. Either I have the job or I don’t. Kate thought. She tore the envelope open. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Dear Ms. Kate: [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]I am happy to inform you that Elite House has decided to give you the chance you deserve. We are pleased to offer you the position of editor. Enclosed is a copy of our sample employment contract for your review.

I will be happy to answer any questions you may have concerning the contract and to guide you through the contract negotiations phase. Please note that once you have requested that we send the official contract, we cannot further amend the contract.

Welcome to the Elite House family. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Sincerely, [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Mary Prattle, Executive Director[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Elite House[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate’s sighed with relief. Her dream of working in the publishing world was about to come true. She had to tell Anne. Picking up her cell phone she autodialed Anne’s number and waited impatiently for her to pick up. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“I got it. I got the job as editor. I start in two weeks” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“How are you ever going to get everything done in two weeks? But I’m happy for you, I really am. I’ll do whatever I can to help. I have a good friend, Monica, who lives in Frederickson. I know you can stay with her until you find your own place.” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate tried to make the best of her last days with [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Hollingsworth, Grant, and Spentshire. She dreaded her ‘bon voyage’ party, where everyone pretends they’re just your very best friend. The morning passed quickly and she worked through lunch. By [/FONT][FONT=&quot]3:00 p.m.[/FONT][FONT=&quot] Kate's stomach was on full alert. Just as she contemplated a run to the café downstairs, one of the senior attorneys barreled down the hall. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] "Kate," said Mr. Grant. "I have to have this appeal brief ready to go by [/FONT][FONT=&quot]8:00[/FONT][FONT=&quot] in the morning. Can you stay a couple extra hours tonight?"
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Alright," Kate said with a deep sigh, trying to ignore the rumbling of her stomach. I have to do it or risk getting fired. Or do I? she asked herself. I’m leaving anyway, why not today. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate stood up and put both her palms on the counter. "Mr. Grant, I can’t do the brief."

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] "Can’t? Can’t do the brief? What are you talking about?” he said.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"I'm moving on. I have a brilliant editing career in front of me. I’ve given you two weeks notice, it’s up tomorrow. I'm moving to [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Frederickson[/FONT][FONT=&quot], [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Maryland[/FONT][FONT=&quot].”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] With that Kate cleaned out her desk and packed up her tote bag and marched out the doors of [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Hollingsworth, Grant, and Spentshire for the last time.

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] By the next afternoon, she was in Monica’s apartment in [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Maryland[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. Excited to be there. Excited about her future. Excited about life!

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] Monica pushed her dinner plate aside and leaned over to Kate. "Tell me about this publisher you work for. That sounds like something I'd love to do."

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] "I start at Elite House next week. They publish a lot of books, they have something like 20,000 authors under contract, so I’m sure they need editors. If you want I could ask my new boss, Will Minus, at least, I think he’s my new boss. The hierarchy at Elite House is a little confusing. I’m not sure yet who works for who, I mean whom. I could find out if they’re still hiring?"

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"You bet! What openings do they have?"

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] "Well I got my job as an editor, but I have a degree in English. Your degree is in, what, Phys Ed? Still I bet they could use a good worker like you.”

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] "When can I go apply?"

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] "Why don't you wait until I’ve been on the job a couple of days, Friday after next?"

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] "This is going to be fun. Listen you can stay with me for as long as you want. My boy friend works out of town and is not around very much."

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] "I didn’t know you had a boyfriend."

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] "Oh now don't worry about it, its not that serious. We have some good times together but it’s not like I'm looking at bride books. It won't affect us. Won't it be fun if we work together?"[/FONT]



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[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]

chapter 3

Elite House - The Final Chapter
By Rose Underwood

[FONT=&quot]Chapter Three[/FONT]
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Kate twirled a long strand of auburn hair and studied the Frederickson Sunday News Post. While she enjoyed living with Monica, one weekend was enough. She boldly circled several potential apartments with her red marker. One, located on Petty Street just down the block from Elite House, meant a short walk. She could save on gas, and at nearly $2.00 a gallon, plus $30 a month parking, that would be more than pennies in her pocket. Her salary at Elite House was barely above minimum wage. But, she reminded herself, she accepted the job for the experience it offered, not the paycheck. Six years of hard work, scraping by, and studying hard had paid off. She held the coveted title of editor at a publishing house. She took a last sip of the instant coffee and grimaced. Some things about Monica left a lot to be desired and that included her coffee.

Showered, shampooed, and dressed in her best jeans, Kate set out to find her new home. The landlady at 300 East Petty Street hesitated to lease to Kate since her new job hadn’t even started. But Kate’s first and last month’s rent and winning smile convinced her. Kate signed the six month lease with a flourish.

The first floor apartment opened onto a lovely garden with just enough room on the patio for a small table and two chairs. Kate pictured herself having a glass of wine and relaxing in the soft Spring evenings. The apartment itself was spacious, even though it had only one bedroom. Early morning sunlight splashed through the rooms.

The four hour drive back to New York City was eventless, no traffic, no delays. Kate mentally compiled a to-do list of all the tasks that had to be completed. Today was Wednesday, her new job at Elite House started on Monday. There were utilities to turn off and then on at her new apartment. Packing. Truck to rent. Post office to visit to forward her mail. And of course goodbye to Anne.

The days flew by.

Monday morning arrived brisk and clear. “See that glass door? Ms. Prattle’s office is the third one on the right. I’ll let her know you’re here,” the receptionist at Elite House told Kate and waved her off.

“Somehow I thought the offices would be bigger. This is just a townhouse, really.” The lock snapped into place as the glass door closed behind her. She faced Ms. Prattle’s door and started to knock.

“Come in, come in, come in. And you must be Kate. I’ve been expecting you.” Mary Prattle was thin to the point of emancipation. Her dark, nearly black hair was slicked back into a tight bun exaggerating the gauntness of her face. Her suit was an expensive Armani knock off in black cashmere. The wide shouldered blazer jacket wasn’t marred by an accessory. The cuffed trousers skimmed the alligator loafers. “Your first day as a member of the Elite House family must be very exciting for you.” Ms. Prattle slid her arm around Kate’s shoulders.

Kate shrugged off Ms. Prattle’s arm and moved two paces backward. “Well. Yes. I am excited. I’ve been looking forward to finally breaking into the publishing business.”

“And Elite House is the place to start. We’re a traditional publishing house. One of the most spectacular with many, many, many, happy, happy, happy authors. You will find our marketing practices and business model to be closest to that of the largest major publishing houses." Ms. Prattle grasped Kate’s hand. “I’m going to introduce you to our senior executives, Lou Blobber and Will Minus.”

A bit dazed, Kate gently removed her hand from Ms. Prattle’s and quietly followed her to a small conference room. A beautiful inlaid wood table was set with fine china cups and saucers. A portly looking gentlemen with thinning hair was seated across from a dark haired tall man.

“Mr. Minus,” Ms. Prattle nodded at the portly gentlemen, “Kate is our newest editor.”

Kate extended her hand to Mr. Minus, “I’m delighted and thrilled to be here, Mr. Minus, Mr. Blobber. I can’t tell you what an honor this is. My first job editing and at Elite House.”

“You should be thrilled. Why did you know that Elite House books are available at 50,000 brick and mortar bookstores from sea to shining sea? Both sides of the door are knocked on by opportunity, my dear. Every day, rain or shine, ten, that’s not seven, or eight, or nine, but ten, of our authors ask us to accept their next book. 50, count them, 50 of our authors per week, more than 215 per month, or, are you ready? 2,500 per year, ask us to publish their second book! By any standard, this is an amazingly high number of return authors, not seen in the rest of the traditional book publishing company industry.” Will Minus puffed out his chest. “Each day, an average of 150 new authors who are looking to find a traditional book publishing company ask us to publish their book. Do we accept everything? No, no. no. We look at not only the quality but also the genre of their work. Elite House concentrates on books about authors who have overcome a challenge in their life, even if that challenge is imaginary. That’s why we publish fiction novels and nonfiction.

Kate’s eyes widened. “150 new authors a day! Why that would mean 3,225 authors a month. Do you read every submission?”

“Well of course we do, and we’re very selective.” Ms. Prattle prattled. “Elite House may have lower acceptance barriers than any other traditional publisher, but we’re serious about what we publish. Like any other serious traditional book publishing company we have to be picky as we can only accept the works that meet our requirements in both areas. We reject 80%.

“You reject 80%?” Kate paused for a moment. “That would mean Elite House publishes 645 books a month. And what exactly is a ‘traditional’ publisher? I’ve only heard the term here at Elite House. Kate caught Lou Blobber looking at her. She realized he hadn’t said a word.

“Traditional? Ah. Well. Well you know… Mmmm.” Ms. Prattle looked at her Rolex Men’s Presidential watch. “Look we believe in immersing our new editors immediately, so let’s get you settled in.” Prattle went from prattling to nattering.

Kate’s heart fell as she gazed around her miniscule office cubicle. The four foot wall partitions between her and the next editor’s space were stained and ripped. Her metal desk had one of its legs replaced by a wooden post. She tugged at the lower drawer in vain and finally just sat her purse on the dirty carpet. Well at least I can call Anne to let her know I’m here. She reached for a phone that wasn’t there.

[FONT=&quot]The shabby drapes kept out any prying eyes and the sunlight. As Kate’s eyes grew accustomed to the darkness she could see the glow of computer screens and heard keys tapping. She wasn’t alone.

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[/FONT]Another chapter unfolds tomorrow. Stay tuned to this thread.

[FONT=&quot]Is this a sting manuscript like The Purple Pony or Final Days? Maybe, maybe not.

[/FONT]

Chapter Four

[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Chapter Four[/FONT]
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[FONT=&quot]Anne trudged up the stairs to her third floor apartment in [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Passaic[/FONT][FONT=&quot], [/FONT][FONT=&quot]New Jersey[/FONT][FONT=&quot], just across the river from exciting [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Manhattan[/FONT][FONT=&quot] where she worked. The river guarded the boundary between the rich and the wish-they-were rich as effectively as a barbed wire fence.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Her day had been long, tiring and hectic, as well as boring. Her boss screamed at her for being late, just five minutes late. The laser printer refused to co-operate spitting out one crumpled sheet of paper after the other. The coffeepot shorted out and offered nothing but warm, brown bitterness. When she went to pick up her boss’s lunch, a cab flipped her off for jay walking and the city bus sprayed her with ice water from the slush in the curb. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Not a good day. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]She slid the key into her apartment’s lock and pushed open the door, it stuck and she had to give it a good shove. The super kept promising to fix it, just like he kept promising to fix the taped pane of glass in the bathroom, and the exhaust fan in the kitchen. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The mail spilled across the floor: an ad from Lord & Taylor, as if she could ever afford to shop there, an overdue notice from the electric company, and the latest issue of InStyle Magazine. Her tabby cat, named Tabitha in a fit of late night creativity, posed regally with one paw on a long thin envelope. Beneath the claws she could just make out ‘Ran’ on one side of the paw and ‘ouse’ on the other side. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Tabitha, oh my gawd, Tabitha, it can’t possibly be from Random House, not after all this time. And look no manuscript, they didn’t send the manuscript back. It’s got to be an acceptance. I mean why else would they be contacting me? All the other publishing houses sent the manuscript back. Random House didn’t, so it has to be yes, doesn’t it?” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] Tabitha meowed back suggesting that Anne should forgo opening the envelope and open a can of cat food instead. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just forgot this morning, you know how late I was.” Anne snatched up the envelope, kicked the rest of the mail under the entry table and headed for the kitchen, the cat on her heels, her tail waving behind her. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Anne placed the envelope on the tiny kitchen table which did double duty as her writing space. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Passaic[/FONT][FONT=&quot] apartments, the ones a secretary could afford, are small. Anne thought about her friend Kate from college, and about how she was certain that her friend was doing much better than this, living the life of a literary lion.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] Tabitha lost patience with her day dreaming mistress and jumped on the table pushing herself in Anne’s face. Getting the hint, Anne opened the cupboard above the sink, and reached for the cat food. There wasn’t any. She moved aside canned spaghetti, a jar of peanut butter, and one of black olives, and a can of tuna. No cat food.
[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“You know what Tabitha? Let’s celebrate, you get the tuna. I was going to have it for dinner, but I’ll take the spaghetti. Tomorrow I’ll go grocery shopping. If the answer from Random House is yes, I mean, it has to be yes, they didn’t return the manuscript, did they? I’ll buy you that extra fancy feast cat food.” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Tabitha purred her agreement. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]At last, hardly daring to hope, Anne sat in front of her computer and slit open the envelope from Random House. A single sheet of paper fell out. "Dear Author," it said, "We do not accept unsolicited or unagented manuscripts. We can not recommend an agent but suggest that you find one." Beneath, in a sloppy scrawl, Anne could make out the words, "You didn't put in an SASE, so we're not returning your manuscript, it has been recycled."[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Anne stared at the letter. Those snooty editors! Who did they think they were? She crossed out the editor's words and wrote in her own, "What you know about novels could fit on a sheet of toilet paper.” She refolded the letter, using her thumb nail to press in the creases. As she started to address an envelope, her hand trembled and tears blurred her vision. One slid down her cheek and landed on the envelope smearing the ink as it ran. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“They didn’t even read it, Tabitha. They didn’t even read it.” She turned on her computer, and struck out the address of Random House from her list, just like she'd already struck out Simon & Schuster, Viking, and Penguin. She still had New American Library, Ballantine, [/FONT][FONT=&quot]University[/FONT][FONT=&quot] of [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Chicago[/FONT][FONT=&quot], Scholastic, and Harlequin to go. But what was the point? [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] Printing out the manuscripts cost ink, paper, and postage, not to mention time. Why did she have to pay for postage for both ways. Why couldn’t the publishing houses pay at least to return the manuscript. Wasn’t that an expense of doing business? [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] Tabitha rubbed back and forth against Anne’s legs. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
Anne reached down and scratched between the cat’s ears.
“There has got to be a better way. Some publisher out there
has got to give me a chance. Sending out manuscripts and
expecting one to find a publishing home is like winning the
lottery. It’s never going to happen to me. I need to meet
people in the publishing industry. But how?”
Anne turned on her computer and went straight to the
web search engines. She carefully typed in +meet +publishers
+book +industry.

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Chapter Five

Chapter 6 Elite House -- The Final Chapter

Chapter Six

This was Anne’s third wardrobe change in fifteen minutes and she still couldn’t decide what looked best. What should a budding author look like? The writers’ workshop people had said to dress expensively and look professional. She wanted to be herself but look snazzy. So what was it going to be? Donna Karen or bohemian author? An hour later Anne had left her room, all decked out in Donna, and ready to face the world. Her manuscript was firmly in her hands and she pitched so many times she got dizzy. Who could refuse her?

About a thousand rejections and several snide comments later, an
exhausted Anne peeked her head around the corner; the Elite House
booth had tons of people milling about it. Kate wasn’t at the conference, which was a good thing. Anne didn’t want to impose on her friend. If she did, she’d never know if she wrote well enough to be published.

The trek to the booth seemed to take an eternity. Bohemian authors from all over the world jostled her left and right. Anne held fast to her precious manuscript even under the most vicious of assaults and was finally rewarded when an older gray haired bearded man with a Elite House nametag smiled down at her.

“Shark infested waters today.” The man waved his hand disgustedly at the crowd. “It’s always like this at big conferences. All those crazy wannabe romance novelists vying for contracts with larger publishers can get vicious.”

Anne smiled and nodded. “I can’t say I blame them though, some of those advances are pretty attractive.”

The man just snorted and held out his hand for her to shake. “I’ve been in this industry for years and no one gets rich, little lady. I’m Rick Codghill and you have a lot to learn about the publishing industry.”

Anne’s eyebrows shot up.

“Don’t believe me? Just ask those big publishers how much first time authors get? Or better yet, ask how many first time authors, who aren’t already famous, they sign each year. Unknown authors stay that way.”

A wave of hopelessness washed over Anne and she hugged her manuscript closer to her chest. She didn’t want just anyone to get her baby, but she also didn’t want it sitting in her shoebox for another year or two.

Rick pulled out a chair and helped her to sit. “I felt the same way as you a few years back. I worked in publishing. I probably felt worse because all of those stuck up big-time publishers want to publish is formula romance and sci-fi fantasy.”

“So, how did you get your break?”

“Well, I wandered over here kind of like you did, and now I’m one of Elite House’s best sellers.”

“I’ve heard that they don’t market you at all though. How did you do it?”

Rick huffed indignantly and spoke through clenched teeth, “Obviously, you have been talking to some of the corporate naysayers who just don’t understand our business model and are afraid of how well we are doing. Commercial publishers are just so afraid of Elite House.

“Unless you’re Nora Roberts or John Grisham, every author has to market. The big houses don’t market unknowns at all, in any way, shape or form,” Rick took a breath.

“You see, we have several thousand authors, all doing well and we give people, new authors, a chance. Those big industry fat cats just want to keep people out of their club, they think it will add to the mystery of the business if they only select certain authors. Elitist snobs.”

“I don’t understand, don’t you think it would benefit a large company to have a new author with talent?”

“Sure it would, if that author is already famous and can get their books sold on their own. You see, those big houses just don’t want to spend a lot on marketing. At least with Elite House, you know up front that you are going to be doing some of your own marketing. Those big houses lie. Other publishers could do what Elite House does if they would, but they won’t, so they don’t, only Elite House does.”

Anne, defeated, put her head down and stared at her brand new shoes—the ones she bought to impress one of those big publishers. What a waste.

“Hey, I’ll tell you what. I have a lunch break and would be happy to read your MS and if I like what I see, I’ll give it to one of our editors.”

Anne’s head popped up as her jaw dropped in shock. Rick pried the manuscript from her fingertips.

“Thank you. Are you an employee of Elite House?”

Rick winked at her and strutted off. Anne frowned a bit when she noticed that his suit was slightly threadbare and his shoes were not polished. Silently, she cursed herself for being judgmental. The guy was going out of his way to help her and she was chastising him for not having a fancy suit like all of the authors from the other houses that wouldn’t even acknowledge her presence, let alone read her manuscript.

Anne looked back down at her shoes; ashamed at herself, when she realized that the card she had her information on had fallen off of the manuscript! How would they know her hotel room? Anne tried to race off in the direction Rick had taken but couldn’t seem to find him. After about an hour of fighting the crowds at the convention she decided to return to the Elite House booth and that’s when she found Rick, standing over her manuscript with some woman. The woman handed Rick an envelope.

Anne steeled herself and prepared for the worst, she was positive the envelope held another rejection. “Excuse me, Mr. Codghill.” Anne unearthed the card with her hotel information from her purse, “This fell off of my manuscript and I figured you would need it to get in touch with me when you finished reading it. But I guess you don’t need it now.”

“Anne,” he motioned toward the woman, as he pocketed the envelope. “This is one of our editors and she loved it!”

A smile spread across the woman’s face as she reached out to shake Anne’s hand, “You are a rare talent, Anne! I can tell as much from the first few chapters, actually from the very first sentence.”

Had she heard correctly? Did a real editor, unrelated to her, think her work was good? “Thank you.” Anne stammered.

“In fact,” the woman continued, “we would like to offer you a contract and give your book a chance.”

Anne felt the room spin and the floor rushed up to meet her.

“Anne. Anne?” an voice called through the mist as her vision cleared.

Anne opened her eyes to see the editor and Rick looming over her.
Rick smiled down at her, “You passed out.”

A blush crept up her cheeks and she pushed herself up off of the floor. Rick offered his hand to her and she took it as he guided her back to the Elite House booth.

From the boxes underneath the table the female editor unearthed a contract. Anne’s hands trembled as she thumbed through the pages.

“It’s fairly standard,” Rick muttered. “In fact several magazines have used our contract as a model to illustrate the new wave of contracts in the publishing industry.”

Knots seemed to form in Anne’s stomach. Should she have a lawyer read it?

Rick seemed to answer her question as the editor walked away. “Oh heck, just sign the darned thing and take me to lunch—you know the one I missed while reading your manuscript-- and we can celebrate you being a published author!”

Joy overcame her fear and Anne signed the contract, after all,
Elite House was at a major convention for real authors. One of the editors had given a seminar on ‘how to get published,’ They were featured all over the Internet, and Rick seemed like such a solid guy—they had to be legit.

Anne signed her name on the dotted line and imagined signing it over and over as people lined up in bookstores to meet her. Rick quickly grabbed the contract from her and the editor ran back over to take it from him.

“Congratulations,” the woman said as she reached over and hugged
Anne, “you are now part of the Elite House family!”

Rick looped his arm through hers and started dragging her off in the direction of the nearest pub. “Since you are going to be the next great author, how’s about we get the lobster?”

Anne laughed and pulled her credit card out of her wallet. “What the heck Rick, you only become a first time author once!”

**********************************************
Is this manuscript in production at the Publisher in America? Maybe. Maybe not.

Stay tuned.

Chapter 7 Elite House -- The Final Chapter

Elite House -- The Final Chapter

By Rose Underwood

Chapter 7

Kate realized accepting the job at Elite House was a mistake but decided that she would do her best to last at least six months. Job hopping never looked good on one’s resume. The relentless stream of manuscripts to edit was beginning to grate on her creative soul. What a shame. Kate could tell within a few pages that most of the works were amateurish at best. Every once in a while a true gem would slide across her screen. But it would be tainted with the mud of the mediocre.

How on earth did Acquisitions determine there was any potential in these books? Curious, Kate left her desk and glanced down the hall towards the Acquisition Editors bull pen. It was late. No lights shone. No sound except the metallic hiss of the computers. She saw Monica’s station. She might as well use her friend’s work files, at least then there would be some semblance of an excuse if she got caught.

Kate knew Monica was a bit lazy. Now what would she use for her password? Her boyfriend’s name of course. She changed boyfriends often enough to satisfy security’s demand that she change passwords every month. Who was the flavor-of-the-month boyfriend this month? And it came to her, Leroy.

Kate entered ‘Monica’ as the username, and ‘Leroy’ as the password, held her breath and hit enter. Nothing. Alright, alright, think, Kate told herself. Monica had told her Leroy was little where a man ought not to be. She tried again ‘Monica’ as the username and ‘LittleLeroy’ as the password.

She was in. There was a folder named Incoming-and today’s date and one labeled Outgoing and today’s date. Kate opened Incoming folder and saw that it contained about 15 files -- manuscripts, or that’s what the file names looked like. She opened one of the files, just to be sure. Yes, each file was a book manuscript.

Now for Outgoing, same thing about 15 manuscripts but different file names than the Incoming folder. She opened one of the files. It wasn’t a manuscript but an acceptance letter for that manuscript.

Puzzled, Kate clicked back to the previous day’s Incoming Folder. And there they were. The manuscripts matched the acceptance letter files of the next day. There must be some mistake, Elite House didn’t accept every manuscript, they couldn’t. Could they? She checked all the Incoming and Outgoing folders for the previous two weeks. Every manuscript had been accepted. Every one.

There must be a reject, or decline file someplace on the computer. Nothing. Desperately Kate searched folder after folder. She finally found one labeled “Losers,” it hadn’t been opened in two months. There was one file. One. It was a letter declining a manuscript titled “Chewy.”

They lied to me, Elite House accepts virtually everything. How do they get these books placed in bookstores? She wondered.

Mary Prattle, Will Minus and Lou Blobber had left long ago. Usually Mary kept her office locked, double locked, but tonight Kate could see a sliver of light coming through. I’d be in so much trouble now, if anyone found out. I might as well make it worthwhile. Kate headed for Ms. Prattle’s door.

The mahogany filing cabinets in Ms. Prattle’s office weren’t locked. Kate rummaged through them, not sure what she was looking for. Most of the folders were labeled in a strange shorthand. Where on earth should I start?. Kate picked the first folder in the first drawer.

The green folder was titled First Business Bank of Cayman Islands and contained a year’s worth of bank statements for three separate accounts all with the identical balances which totaled $3.6 million. Kate rubbed her eyes and counted the decimal points again. She had no idea that publishing houses made this much money. Odd, the bank accounts don’t have the Elite House name on them just numbers. Two letters and then numbers. MP and a long number, WM followed by a number and LB and a number. She replaced that folder and went on the next.

It was labeled ‘roy-ruse A’ and seemed to be some sort of instructions to the accounting department. There were a line of 13 digit numbers on the right hand and then a column of numbers titled sells, followed by a third column labeled ‘SL’ filled with more numbers and finally a fourth column labeled ‘net roy’. Wait, if I subtract the SL number from the sells number it equals the net roy number. But what does it mean?

The next folder was labeled ‘roy-ruse B’ and the next ‘roy-ruse C’ and so forth down the alphabet. Those folders filled two entire cabinets. There must be at least 16 thousand of those 13 digit numbers. Kate shoved the last cabinet drawer close.

The clank of metal upon tile shocked Kate. Adrenalin electrified her nerve endings. She froze, her hand stifling any urge to scream. Should she turn off the light? No, that would just attract attention. How could she possibly explain her presence her in Prattle’s office? A large well fed rat scuttled across the floor. Kate’s heart settled back into its proper place and her lungs began drawing air again.

She looked around the office and everything seemed to be as when she entered. As she left her eyes were caught by the back cover of an Elite House book, something familiar, something about… Kate lifted the book and looked methodically over the cover. There on the right hand corner right above the bar code was a 13 digit number. She raced back to the filing cabinet and tore open a folder. The 13 digit numbers were the ISBN codes for all the Elite House titles. The publisher number within the code was the same and repeated within each entry. Each of the Elite House books were represented in these files.

Kate arrived at her apartment in a state of confusion. She was trying to make sense of the bits and pieces of information she had learned this evening. She finally fell asleep while 13 digit numbers danced through her head.

“Yes, yes I know the books are not returnable, but I have a complaint with the quality of the cover, it’s blurry. I am well aware that the books are not returnable. Can you tell me who the printer is?” Kate tapped her keys one after the other against her kitchen table as she sipped her morning orange juice. “Source Light is the printer, they print all the Elite House books? Thanks, no, no, I’ll take it up with them.” She clicked her cell phone closed. One more piece of the puzzle, if I could only figure out where it fit.

She arrived at work just after 9:15 AM and slipped into her cubicle trying to avoid any attention.

“This Source Light invoice is correct Ms. Prattle. I know it shows ten more copies than the author royalty statement’s show but it is correct. I can’t adjust it.” Kate heard the voice of one of the accounting clerks.

“You can and you will. Source Light makes mistakes all the time. They invariably overcharge us for the number of copies printed. Now go and change these.”

The meaning of the folders and the numbers hit Kate. Elite House, or someone in Elite House, was skimming the authors’ royalties and depositing the money into offshore accounts.

Kate could hear heels snapping on the tile floor but was still startled to see Ms. Prattles’ head pop over the cubicle wall. “Seems someone has been snooping after hours, you wouldn’t happen to know who, would you Kate?”

Chapter 8

Chapter 8
Anne woke up with a tremendous smile on her face. I'm going to be a published author! My dream has finally come true!

She quickly got out of bed, grabbed some coffee and made her way to the computer. She turned it on and heard the familiar electronic signal indicating she had messages. An email message from Elite House. Yes! She sipped her coffee and started to read.[FONT=&quot]

[/FONT]
Anne,

As the acquisitions editor here at Elite House, I am happy to inform you that your book, End of the Rainbow, has been speedily expedited through the publishing process. You must now proof the final manuscript, O.K. the cover art, provide a list of one thousand contacts for our marketing department to send out official Elite House flyers to, fill out the author info sheet, provide a flap-jacket summary, send in eight different black and white photos of yourself for the cover, copyright your work, write a one-line teaser, and provide a seven page synopsis. Then, stand on your head and bark like a dog. Just kidding! I am known for my wonderful sense of humor. Haw, haw![FONT=&quot]

All of the above must be finished within a twenty-four hour time period or your contract will become null and void and your five dollar advance will need to be returned immediately. Be sure to make changes carefully. Any changes we deem excessive you will be charged $1.50 per character for. If you have any questions at all, please do not call our office. The telephone is normally used only for those who are placing book orders. All author correspondence is done via email, and we are proud to say that the response time is between seven to ten business days.[/FONT]

Have a nice day. [FONT=&quot]

Wanda Wilson

Acquisitions Editor[/FONT]

Anne's excitement quickly faded. How in the world am I going to get all that done in twenty-four hours? And if I do have a question, I'd never get an answer in time. I'm just going to have to do the best I can I guess. Wow, being a published author is harder than I thought. But once I put my mind to something, nothing will stand in my way. I'd better get to work!

After giving herself the brief pep-talk, Anne eagerly opened the email attachment titled "cover art." She blinked rapidly, not quite believing her own eyes. The cover showed a field of daisies with a stop sign smack dab in the middle. What's this? How would anyone know what the story is about? And where's the rainbow?

Anne sighed. She was disappointed, but then, what did she know? These big publishing companies must employ knowledgeable and experienced graphic artists, and they probably knew what would sell. Who was she to question the cover art? Hesitantly, she emailed her approval back.

Next, she opened the proofs attachment. Glancing over the first page, Anne could see there were some spelling errors. She sighed again. Time to make another pot of coffee. It was going to be a very long day.

******************************************

Another Day, another Chapter. Stay tuned for more.

Was Elite House accepted by that Publisher in America in late 2006? Maybe. Maybe not.

Chapter 9 Elite House -- The Final Chapter

Elite House -- The Final Chapter
By Rose Underwood

Chapter 9
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT] Kate couldn’t believe her eyes. Anne’s manuscript was a mess. How could her friend possibly think this was publishable?

“Why are you lollygagging? There is work to be done!” Jane yelled as she slid the lock home on the editor’s door.

How on earth did she go from working for a prestigious law firm, to getting locked in her office by a “senior editor”? Kate tried to comb her hair with her fingers but it stuck in several places. Places that were full of tangles because she hadn’t been allowed to change clothes, shower, or wash up for three days, no, it was four days.

Kate returned to Anne’s manuscript. Anne had proudly shown it to her a half dozen times, even asked for her advice. Kate had edited several chapters as an exercise for one of her college classes. Anne’s writing wasn’t this bad. Kate was sure the title was “End of the Rainbow,” Here it was “End of the Rayne Beau.” Kate scanned the document. Peak was used when she knew that Anne had a fondness for pique, in fact she over used the term. It seemed that every other word had a comma behind it. But wait, those were changes to the original submission, the word processing system tracked changes in red. The editor before Kate had made the ‘corrections.’

She wanted to call her dear friend and warn her, but her cell phone had been taken away when she told Jane she need to visit the restroom more than once a day. Not that it mattered because half the time the one toilet didn’t work anyway.

It was already 9 PM. Ten more manuscripts to do tonight and if they weren’t completed in addition to Anne’s, another stack would appear on her desk in the morning. Kate heard someone sob as tears streamed down her face. Were those sobs her’s? Were things that bad?

The little red light blinked to life on the camera that dogged her every move. Yes, things really were that bad. In fact, they were going to get worse, much worse.
What was wrong with her? She had been nearly fired from the law firm for helping that man who had a heart attack. Now, as an editor she wanted to help people and she was going to get fired here too.

More sobs erupted from Kate’s throat. Her head began to spin wildly out of control. Too much caffeine, too much sugar, and the odor of her chamber pot overwhelmed her. She flung herself to the floor in her office and her hand seemed to find a letter opener. A golden letter opener her mother, a famous reporter, had left her. She had failed her Mom, herself, and everyone who loved her. Kate lifted the letter opener…
Whistles and alarms rang out, someone’s voice shouted over a loudspeaker. Kate laughed as she listened to the shouts.
“Prisoner down, room three. New girl. Full alert.”
Just as Kate attempted to plunge the letter opener into her throat a strong hand grabbed hold of it—wrenching it from her grip. The family heirloom went careening across the room and Kate watched as the girl who used to be Mary’s favorite, before Monica signed on, grabbed it and grinned.

Kate couldn’t control herself. Laughter bubbled from deep within her body.
“S--t, this one is toast. Get the horse tranquilizer and some damned Lysol. It reeks in here.”

“Check Bubba. I’ll tell Snake to do it.”

Something sharp pierced her shirt and her world went black.




Just move a little, she told herself. Hours, minutes, days, from when she had heard Monica and The Sire in her room could have passed—she felt so confused. Every bone in her body hurt, but at least she didn’t smell herself anymore.

A small hand came around her neck and dabbed her with a cool, wet cloth. “Are you there Kate? You have to get conscious soon!”

“Monica?” Kate rasped.

“Yeah, girl. Wake up.”

Kate tried a little harder to open her eyes, but nothing happened.

“Rats. I didn’t want to have to do this but--”

Kate shrieked as something more heinous than even she had smelled in her days locked in her office was pressed to her nose. Kate shot to a sitting position and vomited immediately into a bedpan that Monica quickly stuffed under her face.

“Girl, you’ve got it something awful. I gather you didn’t have the forethought to play around with drugs in your earlier years?”

Kate nodded and vomited some more.

“Sister, you freaked out and now you are in the ‘Infirmary’ and we need to get you out of here because The Sire, does not treat infirmary patients the way we ladies like to be treated.”

The door flung open and both Kate and Monica jumped. “Hail Sire.” She mumbled as she tried to hold the edges of her hospital gown closed.
“Monica,” The Sire shouted, “Get the girl’s clothes so that she can go home.”

Kate blinked. Had she heard correctly?

The all-knowing Sire answered her thoughts. “But, yes of course my sweet! You have worked very hard.

“Monica,” he shouted, “leave us.”

Monica slid out the door with one last sad glance at Kate.

The Sire produced a tattered manuscript and handed it to Kate. “When you became ill, you had this in your hand. You can work on it at your home.

“Wait!” Kate managed to shout after him as she clutched Anne’s tattered manuscript to her chest, “I beg of you, Sire!”

The Sire stopped short and quickly returned to her room.

Calmly she questioned him, “Sire, I need to know if we are really a traditional publisher. Surely the other editors at other houses don’t work—this hard, or have guys like Bubba and Snake on staff to help ‘sick’ editors, and what about the armed guards at the authors’ convention?’”

The Sire laughed at her. “But of course we are what you say. Those other publishers are afraid of us. We must work harder than the others because we are so new. Other publishers could do exactly the same, if only they would, but they don’t, so we do. Elite House published more new titles last year than any traditional publisher in the world, and we are revolutionizing the publishing industry. Elite House is the savior of the unknown writer. Why should getting a book published be such a hurdle? The masses deserve to be read and Elite House gives them a chance. And now I must return to my duties.

Kate smiled when she noticed the bundle in Monica’s hands as she returned to the room. Fresh clothes. Real, clean clothes. Her own clothes!

A tear slid down Kate’s cheek and she hugged Monica. “Thank you for having the foresight to take a copy of my apartment key!”

“Umm. Kate. Honey.” Monica said as she tried to pry Kate loose.

“What is wrong Monica? Why are you so pale? This was a great thing you did!”

“Well sweetie, while you were ‘sick,’ your landlord kicked you out and now you live with another couple of editors in the attic of the building. Minus—I mean, The Sire— wanted me to let you know that he will let you pay only a hundred more than that landlord shark was charging you.”

Kate laughed again. “You’re kidding!”

Monica didn’t move. “I said, you’re kidding, right?” Kate repeated.

Monica rubbed Kate’s back gently as she started to cry. “Chin up sister. If you do what they tell you to and stop asking questions, they’ll let you use a phone, ok?”

“Sure.” Kate whispered meekly as she wondered just what kind of hell she had landed in. And she hadn’t even finished editing Anne’s manuscript.

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten


Anne could hardly believe it. In fact she wasn't sure she did. She pinched herself as a matter of principal and her two copies of “End of the Rayne Beau” didn’t disappear. The letter said "Congratulations: You have now joined our family of happy, happy, happy authors." It was true. The contract she had signed wasn’t a dream. Elite published her book. Everyone said it was too hard to do. But here she was a published author. She read the letter again.

Elite House published her book. She would soon see it sitting proudly on the shelf in real bookstores. After all didn’t Elite House say that Big and Nobel was their number one customer?

Daydreaming would have to wait. Anne put her two copies of “End of the Rayne Beau” on the very table where she wrote it. Tabitha, her cat, gave them a cautious sniff and went back to preening. “Well you might not be impressed Tabitha, but I am. Those two copies represent my hopes and dreams. And my future.”

Anne filled the cat food bowl full, checked Tabitha’s water and left for work. As per usual she was running late. Reading her freshly minted books would have to wait until she got home later that evening.

The day dragged by. She could not wait for night when she would hold those precious volumes.

She quickly put her key in the lock and opened the door. She dumped her stuff on the sofa and took a copy of her book from the table. She sat down and began to read.

"Oh, my gawd!" She exclaimed, "They took my sentences and chopped them!" She flipped through the pages, picking pages at random and was overwhelmed as she saw the problem held throughout the book. She was too upset to even cry. What was she to do? This was her first book. She would not make waves. She would keep quiet and just fix everything to the way it was. New authors should not make waves. It was more important to get the book on the shelves then complain about the editing.

Anne completed her notes and emailed them back to Elite House. They were the worst hours of her life. Mistakes on every page. Mistakes that weren’t in the original manuscript. Spelling, grammar, sentence structure, repeated phrases. Please, please, please, let Elite House correct the errors. So, she waited once more.

She was very surprised when three days later, she was told her revised and corrected book was ready. She painfully ordered 25 books. She didn't get paid that much and it was a lot of money to lay out for her own book but, she did it anyway because she was supposed to help a bit with publicity. Five days after ordering, her books arrived.

She went to Books n' Stuff, the major bookstore chain that was in her neighborhood, to help them get to know her. She brought six books with her so they could just put them on the shelves.

Inside the mega store, she asked and was brought to the manager, Ms. Rile, a chubby woman whose fluffy white hair and pink cheeks reminded people of Mrs. Claus.

"Hi", Anne piped. She could barely control herself.


"My name is Anne and I am the author of this book!" She picked up the book and put it at chest level. Ms. Rile was not impressed.


"I am a local author and I thought you could put some copies of my book on the shelves and I could do a book signing."


While Ms. Rile may have resembled Mrs. Claus in appearance, her temperament was more like Mrs. Scrooge. "Let me see that."

Ms Rile opened the book and looked at the back of the first page.


"Can't do it." She said abruptly as she snapped the book closed and handed it back to Anne.


"What do you mean, you can't do it?" Anne was shocked. All they had to was take their profit right off the top and pay her the rest. Why wouldn't they do this?


"We don't stock Elite House titles. It's a POD you know - Publish On Demand Publisher - and frankly, it is a vanity company."


"No. I did not pay anything to be published by them. Not one thin dime!"


“They charge too much for their books so they don't sell and get dusty on our shelves. We tried that before. Besides, their return policy is a joke. That company is bad news!" She shoved the book back at Anne, spun on her heel and walked briskly away.


Anne went to the book store in every mall in her city for the next week and found out that she could not get any of the stores to take her book. She went online to see if her book was up on the major stores and found it was. She followed a trail of online stores from all over the world and then she noticed it. Her book was listed with four different publishing houses. She emailed the stores asking them to make corrections but they did not. They only verified that each different publishing house was the publisher.[FONT=&quot]

[/FONT]
She sat down and emailed her upset to Support for Authors.[FONT=&quot]

[/FONT]
"I am having problems getting my book into bookstores. The stores say that my title isn’t in their system. They can’t order through Ingram and when they call Elite House all they get is a voice machine. They tell me your discount is not nearly enough to make it worth their while to stock Elite House Books. They are refusing to carry any titles from your company. These are chain stores and I do not understand why I can't get the books I bought up on their shelves. Also, my book is with three other publishers online. I have a contract with you. Not other companies. Please explain. I would also like you tell me what bookstores you shelved my books at".[FONT=&quot]

[/FONT]
Three days later she received a response.

Dear Happy Elite House Author:

"We do not have problems placing books. You are getting a run around. The bookstore is simply telling you things that they know are not true. [FONT=&quot]All of what you say that they told you, is false. Our largest customers are bookstores, and they call, email, or fax us every day, at least 400 times a day. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
”Also, this statement contradicts the statement that says they could not get an answer. How would they know what the discount is if they couldn’t talk to anyone? A stock check done just now shows that your book is physically in stock at their wholesaler. They will see this same information on their computer screen. Why they would lie to you is a mystery[/FONT].

[FONT=&quot]“Have a nice day.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Support for authors. [/FONT][FONT=&quot] [/FONT][FONT=&quot][/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
Anne waited another week and went back to the bookstore she had gone to with books in hands.


"Hello again" she greeted the older, bald skinny man.


"My publisher said you could order books directly from them and then you can stock my book!"


"No can do."


"Why?"


"They want payment upfront for their orders. They want full payment before they will send us the books.”

"I don't understand. What is the problem?"


"The problem is we have to have 90 days to pay for any books we order. We have to have a 40% discount. We have to be able to return a book if it doesn’t sell. Elite House doesn’t do any of this, so we do not stock their books. We can’t. [FONT=&quot]

[/FONT]
When she got home that night, she received an email from the book reviewer of her local newspaper that said they do not review books by Elite House. She wrote to author support again.

"I still cannot get bookstores to stock my book. You never sent me the list of bookstores you say you placed my book in and my books still continues to be listed under four publishing houses. Now, the book reviewer of my own local newspaper refuses to review my book because you are the publisher. I think there is a serious problem here which I never knew about. I want to end my contract. What good is a publisher if I cannot even give away the books I bought?"[FONT=&quot]

[/FONT]
Three days later she received a response.

[FONT=&quot][/FONT]
Dear Hysterical Author:

"Enough with all your drama. We covered this before and will do so ever anymore. [FONT=&quot]Your misconceptions are so easy to contradict that your case has been given to our junior staffers. Please do not address us in such a tone. Your
facts are wrong, your insinuations are wrong, and you are wasting your and our time.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“Bookstores stock Elite House titles all the time. Yes, they will. If they think that it will sell, they will. Again, many testimonials support this. It is unfortunate that they decided to reject your book. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Your arguments will not be considered by us. Your request is denied. We will agree to revisit your request six months from now. Please contact us again at that time. Also, please consider this our final word on this issue.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Have a nice day. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Support for Authors”[/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT]
She could not believe it. They were completely ignoring all of her questions and now they were nasty too. What was she to do?

As a last effort she emailed Rick Stodger, that guy she had met at the Writers Conference. He had talked her into signing with Elite House maybe he could help her escape from them. She spilled her tears and her heart into that email. Three minutes later she received a response:

[FONT=&quot]Dear Anne: [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]So, you've decided that the failure of your efforts couldn't possibly be your fault. Is the world wrong and you are right? Is that how it is? Most people actually read a contract and/or negotiate it before they sign it. What did you do? Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, your writing isn't what you thought it
was or what your small circle of friends told you? Sure, that's got to hurt. But don’t blame your lack of writing success on Elite House on or me. You signed that contract. Didn’t you read it or care?

[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Don't bother replying to this. I've already heard enough nonsense to get me through the next decade. Stop whining like the rest of those loosers. Get out there and promote. Elite House never asked for any money from you, their benevolence has been greeted by anger for POOR SELLS. Poor sells that is nobody’s fault but your own. Who did you think you were? Well I’ll tell you: You’re an unknown and the way you're going you're going to stay that way. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Sincerely Your Friend[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Rick Stodger [/FONT]

What on earth was she going to do about that book signing in Frederickson, her old home town? Maybe she could get Kate to help.
****************************************

Did that Publisher in America already publish Elite House? Maybe. Maybe not. But if they did the title is different.

chapter 11

Chapter 11
Kate gazed around the dismal attic and inventoried the
room: several distraught women were scattered about working
and [FONT=&quot]sleeping on both beds and sleeping bags. Insulation hung down, some of the women were using the silver wrapped, cotton candy material as beds. Many of her new “roommates” had matted hair and looked as though they hadn’t washed in weeks. Candy wrappers and empty donut boxes littered the particleboard floor. Only the coffee machine seemed up to date. [/FONT] [FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Someone-- another editor she guessed—was in her bed and a tattered sleeping bag was left on the floor for her. Next to the sleeping bag was a stack of manuscripts for her to edit, and her laptop. Part of Kate wanted to disappear into the madness with her roommates, but something in her gave way to a greater strength. Kate dropped to her blanket and started to edit with a vengeance. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Someone had to stop Minus, Mary, and Blopper, and the only way she could be that someone is if she extricated herself from the attic-from-hell.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate rubbed her eyes and rested her head on one of the bare [/FONT] [FONT=&quot]two-by-fours. She had completed not only her stack that she had [/FONT] [FONT=&quot]originally been sentenced to, but also the stacks of three other editors. These poor young woman had no idea what they let themselves in for when they were hired by Elite House. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]She wasn’t focusing on content anymore, she was focusing on making enough of an impression on Mary and Minus so that she could get out and get to a phone.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she had first reached the attic. The windowless space had no clocks, and someone had disabled her computer’s clock. Monica, their only contact with the outside world, had been in at least three times to deliver donuts, more coffee and of course—more work. The last time Monica was in, she had turned her back to the camera and winked at Kate.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate looked up at the camera and smiled. Someone had noticed that she was falling into line and if Monica’s wink had meant anything, then [/FONT] [FONT=&quot]Kate was just about ready to rejoin the land of the living.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]A woman in the corner began to cry. “Soon,” she thought, “soon I’ll be able to get help for you whoever you are.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate woke to Monica’s warm and sweet smelling hand on her shoulder. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Casually she whipped the grit from her eyes and gave Monica her best smile.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“You’re allowed to return to your office, Kate. Great work.” Monica whispered. “Now move fast so that the others don’t try to charge the door.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate glanced at her cellmates. They were all frail and broken; clearly the motley lot was unable of charging anyone. Mindful of appearances, Kate gathered a few of her things and followed Monica down the long flight of stairs to the infirmary shower.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The shower was better than the best sex she had had in her life. Each drop of warmth was a sensual caress; unparalleled in its effect on her battered body. She didn’t want it to end. She wanted to indulge in the steam and pure pleasure of the scented soap that she slid and scrubbed her hair and body with, but a noise from Monica reminded her that everything at Elite House could be taken away as quickly as it was granted—just like all of the author’s dreams that were in moment [/FONT] [FONT=&quot]granted, and in the next destroyed.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]A letter lay on her desk addressed from Aunt Ada’s lawyer (it had been opened of course already.) The reason she had been released from the attic became clear. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Her Aunt Ada had passed away and left Kate everything. Enough money that she would never have to work again. The catch was that she had to go and meet with the lawyer. The three stooges probably knew that she was now rich. And of course her new status made her a potential investor.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]About an hour later Mary strolled in and asked Kate how she was doing. Kate looked at Mary and let a tear slide down her cheek. “My dear Aunt Ada passed away and I have to meet with her estate attorney. Do you think I can have a few hours to meet with her?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Mary sympathetically patted Kate’s hand, and as much as Kate wanted to slap the taloned hand away; she let the woman play her game. “Of course dear.” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Mary said behind a forced smile. “Is there anything we can do? Will or I can go with you and help you sign the paper work.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Yeah, right. “Actually, Mary, I was hopping that since I am inheriting a substantial amount, that I could meet with Mr. Blobber and talk about investing in Elite House.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate wanted to jump for joy when she saw Mary’s eyes narrow to slits. She decided to strike while the iron was hot. “Of course,” Kate added, “I’ll be getting a place of my own and will want to work from home.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate saw Mary stiffen, “—My Aunt’s attorney and I will probably need to meet daily and in person for a while to get all of the financial matters straightened around and I am sure that having my own space will help keep her from having to meet me,” Kate paused and gestured around the office, “here all of the time.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate saw realization hit Mary; she knew the none of the three principals of Elite House would want an attorney nosing around. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“You know Kate, you just let us know where to send your things, and your new address, and we’ll even turn your phone on for you.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]And tap them, and install some cameras I bet, [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Kate thought. “Mary,” Kate said with a smile, “that would be wonderful. And as luck would have it, Aunt Ada has a cottage in Frederickson that I think I’ll occupy for the time being.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“All right then,” Mary beamed, “I’ll have Mr. Blobber meet you at five, for dinner at Chez Tarragon on [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Main Street[/FONT][FONT=&quot] to discuss your plans to invest in Elite House. –The least we can do is pay for your dinner while you are grieving.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate wanted to scream but kept her cool. “Thank you Mary, you are so kind.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Calmly, Kate started gathering her things from her office. She was going to be free! Instinct demanded she run immediately for the door when [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Monica finally dropped in to deliver her car keys to her, but she had learned a lot at Elite, and she chose to be patient. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The meeting with the lawyer had gone as well as could be expected. Kate was careful to avoid discussing Elite, and when she found her work blazer had been bugged, she was glad that she had avoided mention of the company. Elite probably had Snake, primed and ready with a horse tranquilizer, prepared to take her down at any moment. She had to use great care in her actions.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Right after meeting with the lawyer, Kate went straight to the bank and made all the arrangements to pay off her debts and get her stuff back. Moving to her Aunt’s furnished cottage would solve the problem of where to live. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate made a quick stop at a store and bought a whole new set of [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]clothes, a new pair of shoes and a new purse, a routine she hoped would now become regular. Anytime, she vowed, that she left Elite or the [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]presence of someone from Elite she was getting new—bug-free—clothes. And she was going to hire a top-notch security team disguised as house staff to protect her until she could free the other staff and editors at Elite.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate resisted the urge to skip as she headed into Chez Tarragon, to meet with Blobber. She clicked her new digital recorder to the “on” position and headed towards the quaint table he was seated at.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Mr. Blobber, I imagine you are aware that we have much to discuss.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Blobber smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed. It isn’t often we have an editor who wants to buy in as a partner!”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Do you know why that is, Mr. Blobber?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Kate watched him blanch, and in that moment she realized that he not only knew what horrible injustices were perpetrated on the editors at Elite but he sanctioned them and was now fully aware that she was not a drone to be trifled with. She needed to change her tactics—and [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]fast—before she met with an accident. “I suppose we do what we must to meet the bottom line, right?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Blobber smiled at her and nodded in her direction. Money had bought her this face to face, and now with her wits and her newfound financial freedom, Kate was going to bring down Elite and bring justice to its authors and employees.[/FONT]

chapter 12

[FONT=&quot]Chapter 12[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Anne was so excited about the book signing; she didn’t have time to be nervous about flying. Once the plane touched down, Anne released her grip on the arm rests and breathed a silent sigh of relief. She couldn’t wait to see [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] after all this time. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Anne and Tracy had once been the best of friends. They’d attended [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Grover[/FONT][FONT=&quot] [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Cleveland[/FONT][FONT=&quot] [/FONT][FONT=&quot]High School[/FONT][FONT=&quot] (go Cavaliers!) in [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Frederickson[/FONT][FONT=&quot], [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Maryland[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. They shared a love of writing and reading, as well as a crush on their English teacher, Mr. Johnson. They tried to stay in touch after graduation, but as so often happens, lost track of one another. It wasn’t until Anne’s mother cut an article from the paper and mailed it off to her, that Anne realized [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] had fulfilled her dream of owning her own business. She’d opened a bookstore. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The moment Anne’s mother realized her daughter would be a published author she called [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] with the news. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] was so excited for her old high school chum, she suggested making it into a major event, and said she would take care of setting it all up, even ordering the books, and contacting the media.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Today was the day of the signing. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Anne thought as she settled into the taxi. "Take me to [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot]’s Bookstore and Café on [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Maple street[/FONT][FONT=&quot]," she ordered the driver. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Anne was a bit shocked and pleasantly surprised to see a small crowd gathered at the bookstore. She had to politely push her way through to the front entrance, and in doing so, bumped into a very handsome man.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"I’m so sorry," Anne apologized.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Not a problem," the man replied. "Have you seen her yet?"[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Who?"[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"The author. Anne…"[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"I’m Anne."[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Wow! Hey, I’m Jim McManson, from the Frederickson News Post. Can I get an interview with you?" The man had a dazzling smile.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Ummm…I guess so. But can we do it later, after the signing? I’m late right now and I have to find my friend Tracy…" Anne was practically tongue-tied by his good looks.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Sure. Just don’t forget me. Jim McManson. Frederickson News Post. I’d love an exclusive…"[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Anne finally made it inside and spotted [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. The two women rushed toward one another and hugged.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"This is all for me?" Anne gestured toward the crowd of people nearby. "[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot], thank you so much for…"[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Anne, sweetie. We’ve got a bit of a problem here," [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] smiled but couldn’t hide the tension in her face.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Look at all these people...how did you pull this all off?" Anne wasn’t listening to her friend.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Well, I sent out press releases, made up some flyers. We got a good response, maybe too good, considering…"[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"What are you talking about?" Anne finally noticed the concern on her friend’s face.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] took a deep breath. "[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Houston[/FONT][FONT=&quot] we have a problem. There’s been a glitch.” she sputtered.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Just spill it," Anne said and felt dread lodge in the pit of her stomach. This was a phrase they’d used in high school when bad news was imminent.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Okay, okay. I’ll just say it. Your books didn’t come," [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] told her.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot][/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"WHAT?" Anne shrieked and people were starting to stare.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Shhh! Come over here…" [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] dragged her friend toward the back of the store. They passed the table and chairs that had been set up for Anne. A large poster, a copy of Anne’s photo from the book cover hung from the ceiling. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Look. I didn’t want to say anything to you before, but normally I won’t even deal with Elite House. And this is only one of the reasons," [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] explained while wringing her hands.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"You’ve got to be kidding me, right?" Anne eyes welled with tears.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"I was hoping this time might be different, but Elite House is notorious for being unreliable. They have a no-return policy, if you order directly from them, so most bookstores won’t. If the store orders from the distributor, they get a ridiculously low, no make that impossibly low, discount. And they want to be paid in advance. I had to give them my own personal credit card to order your books," [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] griped. "I placed the order weeks and weeks ago, I followed up twice and left messages on their answering system. They’ve had plenty of time to let me know if there was a problem. Nothing. Until yesterday, when I didn’t receive the books, I called Elite House one more time. They hung up on me."[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"You had to give them a credit card? You mean you had to pay for them and you don’t even have the books? I don’t understand…on their website it says that Elite House books are available in stores all over the country…"[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Anne, NOBODY stocks Elite House books. I won’t even order them for a customer. They have a terrible reputation in the industry. Uh, I mean no offense, I’m sure your book is good, but…" [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Tracy[/FONT][FONT=&quot] shrugged her shoulders. She’d always been a straight shooter, but she felt terrible about having to break this news to Anne.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"I…can’t…believe…it," Anne was shocked. She felt as if her heart had dropped a hundred floors on the express elevator.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"So, no books means no book signing. What else could go wrong?" Anne’s tears broke free.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]"Excuse me! Anne, can we do that interview now?" It was him. Handsome Jim from the Frederickson News Post just in time to see her ultimate humiliation. [/FONT]