Page 32 of Smoke and Fire
Esperanza
Well that wasn’t an easy thing to answer. I couldn’t respond because I didn’t know. My fingers drummed on the keys before I moved to the next email.
Dearest Jessica,
I am also a “Jess” but I hate it when people call me that, so I assume you hate that too, and am going to call you Jessica.
Just wanted to let you know that I love your books, but I’m concerned about the direction you’re taking book six,Heart is a Superpower.
In book five,Afterglow is a Promise,you already established a plot line of enemies-to-lovers, but you’ve set yourself up to repeat the same thing in the next book.
May I caution you on this path?
You already show signs of repetitive decision making, and I’d like to see more variance in your work. I’m available for help with this if you ever need it. Contact details are below, and I’d be happy to give you 10% off.
Yours,
Jessica
Setting aside the obnoxious fact that Jess had already completed book six—andcertainlydidn’t need help with her plot lines—I hadn’t read all the books to know what to think about this email.
How in the world would I answer this question?
“Well that’s dumb,” I whispered, glancing at the next four Jess books that awaited on the counter.
Lizbeth had stocked me up with all twenty novels. I no longer hid my pleasure at the sheer number of pages awaiting me. The oblivion Jess offered was real.
Except, Jess wasn’t.
With a grunt, I continued to scroll through the emails. There had to be something I could do besides get rid of spam messages. This wouldn’t be as easy as I thought, and would likely necessitate me readingallthe books before I could be of real use. Or, at the least, organize this disaster.
Minutes passed while I cruised the internet and constructed a reading order list in a notebook that I’d set aside just for this. I’d have to take extensive notes.
Then I pulled together responses Bastian had sent to readers on another page, hoping to collect answers to common questions in his wording. Even that felt like busy work as I tapped out a pitiful response or two to the most minimal questions.
Oh, no.
I’d vastly underestimated the job.
A pit built up in my stomach as more emails swept past me, unanswerable.What bookstores are you available in? Do you have translations in Dutch? How many more books are you going to write?
My heart felt fluttery as I continued to scroll by the question ofhow many books will be in the series?andwhen is the next launch coming out after this one?andare you hiring a line editor? I have opinions on your adverbs and would like to offer my services.
With a deep breath, I eased the panic away and grabbed my phone. If my luck held, he’d still be in service.
Dahlia:By chance, do you have any idea how many novels will be in the series? Any anticipated launch dates?
I crossed my fingers and waited.
The question seemed easy enough to tackle without making me appear incompetent. Meanwhile, I tried not to feel like an idiot. If I didn’t havethoseanswers, what was I really going to do for him?
Not much.
He’d put all this work and expectation into my job and I’d be . . . floundering.
No, that wasn’t true. I could read all the books now. That would certainly help, at least a little. And I still had the social media accounts I could manage. The thought sent an eager thrill through me, followed by dread. How many days until the launch? Seven days. One week to read seventeen more books.
Challenge accepted.
