Became an American Retro Novelist - Chapter 199



Only Noblemtl

199.

Early morning.

I woke up to the sound of the alarm clock.

Beep be …

A sudden noise of commotion was heard from the other side. Then, the sound of the bell suddenly stopped.

John Smith, who had class this morning, got up first and quickly finished getting ready and headed out. By then, I was taking a deep breath and sitting up, but I felt that my fatigue hadn’t gone away, so I yawned.

‘The dormitory is not good.’

Should I say that the wake-up time is based on the time of the guy who goes to class first?

I thought to myself that it might be a good thing that I’ve become a morning person, and I got up with a light stretch.

The second year was very different from the first year.

In the first year, various assistance was provided to help students adjust to school, but in the second year, there was nothing like that. Students were free to take classes as they wanted, and they learned how to take responsibility for the process.

John Smith also learned through suffering, cramming in class in the morning.

‘I’m saying that it’s better to schedule your classes around your own wake-up time and schedule.’

I thought about it while drinking my coffee leisurely.

On the other hand, Kate Moore and Rebecca Wong both preferred a schedule where they attended classes in the morning and rested in the evening. So naturally, our Pulp Fiction Club’s meeting time was set around lunchtime, when the two groups’ time zones overlapped.

Even though I just took a leisurely shower, it’s still nine in the morning.

After thinking about it for a moment, I packed the books, writing utensils, and a genre novel I needed for my afternoon class and headed out. Then I went to the cafeteria where we had met in advance and ordered a breakfast set and munched on it.

‘This is really good.’

It feels like reading a novel in the warm morning sunlight.

Schoolwork hasn’t been that difficult so far and has been okay.

Everyone was worried about how many classes they should take and how to plan their schedule when they became sophomores, but I didn’t. Maybe it’s because of my past life experience. After looking at the curriculum and the grades I needed to get by graduation, I had a rough idea, and I applied for classes with that minimum limit.

‘I spend the rest of my time doing whatever I want.’

Isn’t this life?

I write, audit related classes when I have questions, and even lock myself in the library.

When the kids saw me like this, they were jealous and said, “You always seem to have so much free time.”

‘It’s leisurely.’

I just have a little more knack than others.

After munching on my coffee and slurping down my scrambled eggs, bread, and bacon, I sat cross-legged and read a novel while waiting for the members of the Pulp Fiction Club to arrive in the cafeteria.

As lunchtime approached, customers began to arrive one by one, and the first to arrive was······.

“How long have you been here?”

My arch enemy was Kate Moore.

“From the morning.”

“Your fortune is good.”

“I guess the class was difficult.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. They said we’d start an advanced course starting from the second year, but it’s no joke. On top of that, there are club activities and such. I don’t think I’ll have any energy left even if I had ten bodies.”

“Is it okay for me to come out here?”

“You just need to sleep a little less.”

“······To that extent?”

“I have to read Rebecca’s writing.”

Kate has come to enjoy the mysterious combination of thriller and romance.

I chuckled in disbelief and asked one thing I had been curious about before the other kids arrived.

“Hey, but what kind of communication do you have with Dooppi?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Spoiler alert for ‘About T’.”

“We exchanged our thoughts about Aboutti through letters and scalps, so it started to feel like a kind of fan fiction, and before we knew it, it felt like the two of us were writing fan fiction.”

“······.”

“Spoiler.”

“Tony dies in the next novel.”

“No-!!”

“I’m kidding.”

“What’s the real spoiler?!”

“Uh, uh, Tony, the actor is having fun acting.”

“······You were playing with me.”

“I really didn’t know you’d answer.”

“Buy me some coffee.”

“yes.”

I surrendered obediently and stood up.

As I bought a coffee and sat down again, I saw Kate with a displeased expression and Rebecca who had arrived next to her.

“Oh my, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. Did you enjoy the class?”

“It was hard.”

Rebecca sighs lightly.

And after a while, when we arrived in John, the four of us were able to sit around a round cafe table and start talking about the novel.

When John Smith and Rebecca Wong write a novel, it’s a place where I and Kate Moore exchange ideas.

The unofficial club activity, ‘Pulp fiction club’, was briefly disbanded during the vacation, but naturally resumed activities when everyone became a second year student.

There was actually an idea that I should submit an application to the school and receive activity fees, but I declined because I thought that would put too much burden on me. I also thought that if I increased the number of members, this exquisite harmony would be broken.

After nearly a few months of activity, the Pulp Fiction Club was now taking shape.

John continued writing ‘The Warrior’s Way’, and Rebecca continued writing her romantic thriller short stories.

Since they were guys who already had basic writing skills to the point of being accepted to Stanford University’s creative writing program, I intuitively felt that the time had come and opened my mouth as the review was wrapping up.

“John, Rebecca. If it’s okay with you, how about we start submitting it to a publisher soon?”

He proposed it seriously, without any playfulness.

Both of them opened their eyes wide in surprise at my words.

“To the publisher?!”

“You want to publish it as a book? Is that possible?”

It was interesting that the two people’s reactions were so contrasting.

John was extremely excited by the mere fact that he was taking on the challenge. It was a reaction with 100% of his usual positive energy.

The problem was that Rebecca, unlike John, was a bit stiff.

‘I’ve been like that too.’

I opened my mouth and smiled gently to reassure Rebecca.

“I think it’s possible. They both need to be edited by a professional editor to fit the market, but for now, I think they’re not lacking compared to genre novels on the market. Kate, what do you think?”

“······Some of Rebecca’s novels seem to need some filtering. Yeah, they’re definitely fun.”

“Did you hear that?”

“Uh, um.”

“What are you doing, Rebecca? Let’s go to California!”

“Be quiet, John. Think about it.”

Rebecca glared at John, who was almost jumping around in his seat, then lowered her gaze, biting her lips and making a serious expression.

I understand.

For a writer, the act of ‘publishing a novel as a book’ is probably one of the most desired goals, but when you actually stand at the starting line, you end up self-censoring whether you have written something worth writing.

In this way, it was common for companies to become obsessed with publishing books and end up signing unfair contracts.

······Well, somehow John Smith didn’t seem to be like that.

‘No matter how much your family is involved in that matter, it’s like that.’

Anyway, if you can’t overcome that fear, you can’t become a writer.

And I thought I’d introduce them to the best publisher I know.

‘Because it helped me write genre fiction.’

If possible, I wanted to take responsibility until the end and make sure it was a good experience.

“How about submitting it to a hard-boiled publisher?”

“If it’s hardboiled, you did the ‘Losers’ series?”

John’s eyes lit up again.

“Yeah. It’s a place where the representative is someone I’ve known since my newspaper serial days.”

“······God. Suddenly, the scale seems too big. Is that okay? No matter what, we are amateurs. Amateurs among amateurs. We are just college students. If we try to push a novel, won’t it just end up wasting the publisher’s time?”

“······.”

It seemed like Rebecca was the type to talk a lot when she was anxious, embarrassed, or drunk.

Beneath the cool head of reason, there seems to be a softer side than expected.

“I said it’s okay. If it’s okay this weekend, let’s all go together. I’ll drive.”

“Are you going to stop by the beach after you finish?!”

“What do the other two think?”

“Your skin is burning.”

“It’s inefficient.”

Kate pushing up her glasses and Rebecca glaring at her from the side.

John Smith’s shoulders slumped.

***

When I contacted Simon, he replied very ‘pleased’.

[Great! I’m looking forward to the novels of your college friends! What genre is it?]

One friend is a sword and sorcerer, the other is a romance thriller.

Simon, who heard my answer, was very excited and asked if he could invite Julia too, as he was looking forward to it. Of course, it would be possible, so I agreed without hesitation.

Time passed like that and the weekend arrived.

Early in the morning, I picked up the kids in front of each dorm and drove moderately down the road back to California.

Feeling the warmth between summer and fall in California in October, I headed to Hardboiled Publishers.

A small office located among a forest of buildings filled with white-collared offices.

Standing in front of the doorway, where a custom-made sign reading ‘Hard-boiled publisher’ stands, Kate, John and Rebecca’s reactions were mixed.

“This is······the birthplace of the ‘Losers’ series.”

Kate pushed up her glasses and took out her camera from her bosom, diligently taking pictures of the nameplate.

······Since when did you become a fan of the ‘Losers’ series?

As I looked back with slightly surprised eyes, John, who was next to me, swallowed and pushed up the glasses he was wearing with trembling hands.

The middle finger stands out between the half-broken index and ring fingers and the fully-broken little finger.

While I was thinking that it was like casting a spell, the guy said this.

“Is this the place······where I will begin my career as a genre writer.”

······What is this? Why does it feel like deja vu?

“Hehe, hands up if you’ve read ‘Country of Losers’.”

“What are you talking about? Who here hasn’t read it?”

Rebecca strode forward, pushing past Mr. John Smith, who was speaking incomprehensibly.

“Kate, too. Put the camera down. What special place have we come to? We just have to show our work and compete with confidence. It’s a one-on-one, equal relationship. You should never be afraid or think of the other person as superior to you.”

As she spoke, Rebecca was holding a fruit basket decorated in an oriental style.

······Why does it seem like I’m the most nervous?

“Hehehe.”

“The hard-boiled publisher’s badge······!”

“Everyone calm down!”

It was already chaos before it even started.

From the perspective of three college students, this place seemed like some kind of ‘secret space for adults’. To me, it was just an ordinary office that I used to visit.

There were other offices nearby, so I was going to step forward and calm things down a bit before going in, when someone heard the noise we were making and opened the door slightly and stuck their head outside.

“Ah, you came.”

“Hello, Miss Brown.”

“Hello, Mr. Shin. ······Simon! The writer is here!”

“Author-!!”

A loud, new voice was heard from inside.

I felt embarrassed in two ways.

One was because John Smith, Rebecca Wong and Kate Moore looked back at me with expressions that made me want to say, “Oh my!” along with an exclamation of, “Wow, I heard you, author!” The other was because in their heads, Simon Carver, the head of a dignified company, was calling me in a voice that was almost like a child calling for his mother.

“······It’s been a while, Simon.”

“Come in! Oh, these are the friends you were talking about?”

“Hello! This is John Smith!”

“I’m Rebecca Wong. This, this is a gift.”

“Oh, why did you bring all this? Thank you anyway. I’ll enjoy it.”

“I’m Kate Moore. I’m just here to tour.”

“Haha, please come inside.”

Simon welcomed the kids with his characteristic friendliness, and the three stood inside, very nervous.

Following Miss Brown and Mr. Carver, a woman with blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and dressed in a suit was waiting for us in the office.

It was Julia Chandler.

“······Author.”

“Julia, it’s been a while.”

“How have you been? Hehe, why is it that it’s always the same greeting?”

“I’m always doing well. How about you?”

“Not bad.”

Julia smiles softly.

The three looked surprised in a different way than Simon.

In particular, Kate, after seeing the ‘career woman in a suit’ that looked like a painting, looked almost dazed. Could it be because that was the image she had in mind as her ideal?

Julia greeted each of the seemingly bewildered children with a polite yet charismatic manner, exuding a professional aura.

So everyone gathered around the table in the office, Miss Brown took our drink orders, and then went to the pantry, where the real conversation began.

“A precious piece of work, I really enjoyed reading it.”

Simon was the first to greet Rebecca and John politely.

Just that alone seemed to deeply move both of them. And so did I.

‘When I was a rookie, I got scolded for bringing in pieces of trash like this.’

Even though many years have passed and the industry has become more mature, those rude publishers and editors still persist.

What should I say? I guess they are the type of people who fill their ego with the success of the work they are in charge of. There were quite a few editors who took the initiative and tried to make a name for themselves. I heard a rumor about an editor who beat up a writer while telling him to meet deadlines.

Well, I understand. If you do that, your salary as an employee will increase.

The problem was that there were people who tried to ‘bully’ new writers or writers with low performance through that position. The gaslighting that came from controlling information and being overbearing was a deadly poison to new writers.

From what I’ve seen, Simon and Julia aren’t that type at all.

I can’t deny that I was able to make a pretty decent living as a writer because I returned to this era with more advanced skills and knowledge, but I think that meeting these great editors helped me shake off a lot of the frustration I felt in the future and continue my creative work.

So I trusted them and continued to draw the future together.

Simon started by saying this with a warm face, considering the two who were probably a little nervous.

“To put it bluntly, I would like to proceed with the contract.”

For some reason, I felt good in front of him.

It was the result of Rebecca Wong, who had only written novels about various sex scenes, and John Smith, who had only been watching what I said and had no idea how to write the novels he truly wanted to write.