Great Novelist

Fernand was okay with almost publishing the literature of major American writers. A traditional publisher who recently held a 100th anniversary event. That's where I got the call that I wanted to publish my book.

Butterfly accepts the offer from you and recalls meeting with Fernand's chief editor.

At the time, Adam, the chief editor, who I met, announced that as soon as I said hello,

“I'll do the first 100,000 copies. ”

The confident face revealed the pride of the head editor of a major publisher representing the United States.

Initial Edition 100,000 copies.

What that number means is simple. Success of accidental writers. Emergence of bird tracks.

Butterflies had to bite it to keep their composure in front of him. The offer was already made in 13 countries before the US English edition. It will be sold in more places in the future.

Butterflies did their best to make sure that they had worked this hard before. And I got enough results. An unknown sense of accomplishment came to me.

And the news of the next coincidence of the writer.

I can't be happier than this.

That's what I thought three minutes ago.

Butterflies were currently unable to take their eyes off the office computer screen. It was an email, to be exact.

Mail came in three minutes ago. Just when I was working on the computer, I went in to check right away.

And I saw the word "England."

Great Britain. I got a call from Great Britain.

What is England? The country of Sherlock Holmes. The Kingdom of Shakespeare. The Kingdom of Jane Austen, Thomas Hardy, Charles Dickens and Wolf, Virginia. And it was a more difficult country to enter than the United States.

An offer has come in from there. Just three minutes ago.

Butterflies open their mouths.

“Hey."

“Yes?”

I called for a successor to the side seat. First, I entered the check with a calm attitude to make sure I didn't see it wrong.

“You read this. ”

“What is it? ”

The latter draws a wheeled chair with a curious face to the side. And he opened his mouth like a butterfly.

“Awesome!”

Fellow agents are gathering at the rear. I guess I didn't read it wrong. There is a commotion around you. Everyone is speaking in the voices described above.

In that situation, the butterfly bows and covers its face with his hands.

“This is so good. ”

I feel fat.

*

He was sitting at his desk. I noticed my phone on my desk. It reminds me of a butterfly. She speaks in a suppressed voice. Success!

I felt the tail go up.

His book is translated into languages ​ ​ and spread to 13 countries. He also made it to the United States, and the U.K. called to say it was difficult.

It was better than before

I crouched my chin and laughed. I was happy. He was delighted.

Soon after he smiled with such joy, he remembered why he was sitting at his desk.

He was thinking about it. It was because of the title of the next article.

The title of the book was an important part. It determines the first impression along with the cover of the book. In the past, when books that had not been sold were renamed and republished, they sometimes became the best sellers. Since books pour out like water, books should pay attention to their first impressions.

Every writer's attitude towards the title was different. If there was a designated person at the end, there was a writer who set the title first and wrote.

No matter what happened, there were writers who had to build it themselves and writers who had to leave it entirely to the publishers.

He didn't care about anything. I decided that if there was anything plugged in before writing, in between or at the end.

If you like the title suggested by the publisher, you can use it if you like what you set.

This is where the mood swings in.

A while ago, I spoke with Nam-Kyung about the title of the next film. The question was, what are you going to do with the title?

The publisher, who is very well aware of the importance of the title, considers the title until just before it is published. If I have a better title, I enter the printing shop and then revise it upside down and pass it again. I think until the end.

Nam-Kyung said there were many opinions at the meeting. Several people talked about the title, including the head of sales, the head of planning, the editor, etc.

The conclusion was that my mother was weak as the title of my next book.

Australia agreed, because now it's literally gone.

“Hmm."

A new title was required. A new title. I wonder what's better.

He thought.

But I didn't think of it.

Title, title, title. Only the same letters have been floating around in my head. It means it's empty in my head. One step before finalizing the final manuscript. He has exhausted his strength.

My head is no longer spinning.

He stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment, holding his mind and wandering around, but there was nothing to hint at. Books, manuscripts, pens, computers, beds, chairs, desks. They didn't have the title that they wanted.

I have to send a title to Nam-Kyung on this phone. I can't think straight. Title, title.

“Title.”

I said it out loud. The title was still the title. The face of the book. Something to wrap around it.

This time, I picked up a pen and wrote it down on paper.

“Mom. Son. Clown. Audience. Dad, boss. Lover. Baby. ”

The speaker is a son, the main character is her. Her and her son living a destructive and twisted life. And a baby.

In the end, there was regret. Regret. How people behave when they regret.

Kaaaah.

You hear the cry of a bird. He cast his gaze out the window. It reminded me of a bird that appeared in the next book. A bird that died once and came back to life. She tells her son a story about the bird she saw.

He did not describe the meaning of the resurrected bird as a miracle. Some will see freedom in it, and some will see reality in it. The meaning of birds is infinite. He didn't want to stop it.

Kaaaah.

The bird cries.

“Crying.”

I moved my hand and wrote it down. In the content, there was the cries of people who had never been heard.

I think it'll be fine with the title.

The sound of crying. I look at the paper with the word written on it, and I put the pen down and look at my palm.

I must have gotten hurt somewhere by now. The first day I heard the baby cry, I must have bled. I looked back at the feeling of that day.

I was relieved to know the baby was alive. Crying was evidence, a sign. You shout. Hope it continues to ring without interruption.

Now I feel the palm of my hand for the missing scar.

Then I picked up the phone and texted him.

The title sounds good.

Soon after, a positive reply returned.

He turned on his base.

*

“Yawn.”

Nam-Kyung yawned loudly and shook his head to wake up. I was speeding up the process of making the next writer's cry.

Nam-Kyung still could not believe what was being pushed. I never thought I'd be working on a coincidence before the end of the year.

Who knew he'd get his kicks so soon?

I was frankly worried about Nam-Kyung. He was called a genius, but he was young. I have only written one work.

Nam-Kyung knew many unnamed writers who left behind only the debut. They were mostly people praised for their talents and promising. However, he disappeared from the paragraphs without even making the next move.

All you have to do is write a second, and it's gone.

It proves that writing is not just about talent.

I was afraid of coincidence too. The trail of his debut bird is still selling steadily today, and he's holding the top spot for the bestseller.

Nam-Kyung thought, "If it were a coincidence, this heat would have tried to work slowly and very slowly during the ceremony."

There's no reason.

It's a burden.

It was still a coincidence that when I went online, I could see it immediately. The next sound resonates with an explosive reaction. I didn't have the courage to go beyond the present.

The phone rang next door. Blind editors received it.

“Yes, I am the publisher of Netherwood. ”

I remembered the embarrassment on his face with the phone. Nam-Kyung realized at once what a phone was like.

“Yes, yes. You wrote it yourself, by chance. Yeah, and the next one's really coming out. Yes.”

Anonymous reader. I get calls like that several times a day. Coincidence was gaining celebrity popularity in the paragraphs.

Nam-Kyung thought of a writer by chance. 17 years old. High school grade 1.

He brought his next book in less than a year in this situation. A writer who sends his manuscript with an extended face like it was nothing.

If you look at it, you'll see a smile. He was really funny. I only laugh because I'm surprised. Being an editor wasn't such a bad job because I was dealing with him.

Nam-Kyung answered the company phone. I dialed the headquarters number of Durb, the design office for the cover quest.

A fearless young writer brings the next book. Then I had no choice but to do my best. We have to try to make the writing as beautiful as possible so that as many people can read it.

The call went out.

“Yes, the designer process is ”

“Hello, ball director. I'm the editor of Nam-Kyung Park.”

“Oh, yes. ”

I heard a low voice for a woman. It was a familiar voice in my ears. She was a designer who had worked with Netherwood publishers for a long time. The cover of Durb's ball director's design was reliable. The design she draws expressly expresses the content and atmosphere to the extent that she reads the book. Improve the book. Most of the best-selling covers that are now coming out of the nettle tree were from her office. Readers responded well.

She also designed the bird trail.

“I'm leaving the design to you. ”

“Oh, I'm sorry, but it's going to be difficult this time. ”

There was fatigue in her voice. I guess you're just as busy here as I am here.

“Are you busy? ”

And I said, "Yeah, well, somehow things overlap. It's popular. ”

“If you're good, you're popular. ”

“Haha, it doesn't matter. It feels good.”

A slightly higher sound of laughter arrives at your ears on the telephone line. Nam-Kyung was not in a hurry. She knew she would eventually accept the work. It's because she was one of the readers who fell in love with the writer by accident. I guess you haven't heard from him since you've been busy.

Nam-Kyung shrugged.

“Are you sure you can't? Too bad. It was the writer's next book. ”

“Yes? Who? ”

“What a coincidence. ”

“· · · · · · Hold on. ”

As expected, you hear a buzzing sound from beyond the phone. I'm adjusting the date. She was so greedy, she couldn't just hand over a book cover quest for the author of the talk.

“I really wanted to leave it to the ball director, but couldn't I? ”

“· · I'm really busy, but I haven't. ”

It was a reliable answer, and Nam-Kyung said he would send the manuscript right away.

Title (Edit Content) End

lim Han-baek