Writing for the love of it

First thing’s first. Em. I’m not dead. Conspiracy did not kill me. But you are absolutely amazing for worrying about me.

Now, on to the blog.

Loraine was back in the office today, and we had a bit of a chat about her London trip. Most of it I already knew as we’ve talked on the phone, but she filled me in on some other details. Like she sold a new author she’s been working with, and she’s secured a higher advance than originally expected. So, that’s quiet good.

The other thing she didn’t mention over the phone was the London office. She’s thinking about shutting it down. The overhead is too much, and since the agents are geographically spreading out with many working from home, she doesn’t even know if the London office is needed. I asked her if the London office was disbanded, where would the official Agency office be? There’s got to be a main location? I also asked what they’d use for meeting with clients and publishers – the London office has a really nice conference room. Loraine said that those are the reasons she hasn’t made the decision. There’s a lot to think about. I wonder what the other agents would think about this.

As just a bit of conversation, I asked if she got to do anything non-work related while she was down south. She said that luckily she caught up with some old friends over the weekend, and it was good to be in London because she still has stuff to do to her house. When she moved to Dundee they had hoped to sell their London home, but no such luck so far. Wow, she and Philip must be doing quite well for themselves (or at least Philip was) because they’ve bought a pretty huge house in Dundee and didn’t even have money from the sale of their London house. Maybe being an agent isn’t such a bad career move. Then again, I have no idea what Philip used to do, perhaps he’s the wealthy one.

I trekked over to Conspiracy’s house today, and while I was on the bus I realised that Fife might be home. Would I see him next door? If so, should I say something about the book, or just wait until tomorrow? I really kind of wanted to see him, but I also didn’t want to see him because I didn’t know how to broach the book subject.

I got to St Andrews, and then caught the other bus and got off at the field. I walked into the village and to Conspiracy’s house. As I walked up the road, I could see Fife’s house, and I started acting like a fool teenager. I wanted to see if he was home, but I didn’t want to be obvious. I wanted to be all cool about it. Yeah, I’m a twit. He’s got this large hedgerow down one side, so it wasn’t until I was right up to the house that I noticed his car wasn’t outfront and another car was in its place. A big shiny SUV.

I stood at the edge of the pavement in front of his house thinking, ‘Should I go up and knock on the door? See if he’s home. Just to say “hello”, or would that be weird?’

A woman then came out of the house and locked the door behind her. She had dark hair that was pinned back, and she was tall with an angled face. She was well dressed and digging through her handbag. Her presence shook me awake, and I jaunted up to Conspiracy’s door and rang the doorbell. The whole time I kept an eye on the woman who got in her SUV and drove away.

Who was she? She wasn’t dressed like a cleaner. Was it his wife, or maybe his sister? But why would she have keys if she was the ex or the sister? Is she a girlfriend? He hasn’t said anything, but then again I haven’t said anything about Pete. Did I have the right house? No, that definitely was his house. 

Conspiracy finally answered the door and I came on through to the sitting room. He’d calmed down significantly, but he was still agitated. I decided to be honest, so I said his wife told me about the blog. And I said that I loved it. I also said that no one was buying his novels. That had nothing to do with his writing, the second book just wasn’t being picked up by a new publisher, and sales of the first were too slow. This may be his only chance at getting a writing career.

He said he didn’t care about a writing career. That he just writes because he likes to write. (I can understand that. I blog everyday simply because I like to do it.) He only let Fife send his manuscript around to publishers and agents because of Saint. Conspiracy’s wife wants him to be a writer, in fact he doesn’t know why she’s pushing him so hard. He stood his ground, and he said he won’t publish the blog.

I left feeling quite dejected.

It took me a couple of hours to get back to the office, which gave me plenty of time to think about how I was going to handle the Conspiracy issue. I was just over the Tay bridge when it dawned on me that I needed to speak to Saint. Why did she want him to be a writer? Could she help us? Was he even worth bothering about, or should I just let him go?

I got back into the office and waited until about 6pm and rang Conspiracy’s house hoping that Saint would be home from work and answer the phone. Luckily she did answer, and I felt the best thing to do was to be honest. I told her about the plan for the blog, but that we couldn’t get Conspiracy to agree. Then I asked, ‘Why do you want him to be a novelist if he doesn’t want to be one?’

Her answer was quite lovely, ‘It’s the only thing that makes him happy. He has some “issues” and writing is the only thing that makes him content. After he’s finished writing, he’s always calm and relaxed. Nothing else makes him feel this way. He’s like the person I fell in love with. And I just thought that if he could make a living at writing, then he could do it all the time and he’d be a happier person.’

I asked if she could talk him into publishing the blog. We’d do everything we could to keep it anonymous for as long as we could. Although, anonymity wouldn’t last for ever. I think it’s the best shot he has at a writing career.

She said she’d talk to him. That I was to leave it up to her.

I don’t know what she sees in Conspiracy, but it must be something quite special. Or maybe the two of them are just meant to be together. Love is a tricky thing. Whether it’s love for a person, or a love of writing. It’s never easy.

One response to “Writing for the love of it

  1. Thanks for checking in. :)-

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