It'll Make Sense in the End

Tuesday, 4 January 2022

Tuesday, 4 January 2022

Markus understood if the girl wanted to take some time to edit it. He went through a similar situation. No, not so similar, but when he finally found an agent who accepted him, he asked for some time to rewrite his screenplays first.

When he first joined Equuleus Literacy Agency's client list, Valeria Grant already handled 33 screenwriters (most of them TV writers) and 49 novelists. Markus didn't even know there were that many novelists in Maninsula, most of them originating from Burtafsun. Valeria never dawdled and only gave him three days to "give what you think is your best". She also reminded that whether he liked it or not, the studio will eventually tweak some things.

Valeria was also a bit of a worrier, it seemed.

That's why Markus found himself back again at her office's waiting room as she finished up with another client. "Thanks, Val, I'll get it back to you in a week," her client—the recently popular fantasy novelist—said as they walked out of the room. "How's it going, Amira?" Markus asked, holding back from taking a peek of the stack of papers in Amira's hands.

He couldn't wait to read the sequel of Hundred Fourteen Ruins. "Oh, Markus," Amira attempted a smile but it ended up more like a grimace, "it's ... going." They chuckled before looking at their stack of papers. "My editor kind of complained about some info-dumping and I rewrote it, he approved, but then Valeria said some scenes aren't ... um, sellable? Is that a word?"

"That's a word."

"Oh, good, yeah, so I heard her right. Anyway, I'm going to rewrite a few scenes that she highlighted per the publisher's editor direction. And some of hers, I think."

"Good luck, then!" Amira nodded and left as Markus walked into the office.

Valeria raised her eyebrows as if Markus wasn't told to come here today. "You're early than usual," she said before her eyes darted to the clock. "No, I'm the one who's late, aren't I? Doesn't this make you late, per usual?"

"Listen, Valeria," Markus sat at the chair across the table, "Katherine Pear will not sue me or the studio or anyone involved in the making of the film."

"No, no, I know, it's okay, I heard you—repeatedly," Valeria said with a wave of her hand. "I called you over because we're thinking about having that Pear on our agency's roster. Apparently, Imam has a friend who was on the jury panel for Maninsula Short Story Competition back in ... I don't know, 2017 or 2018, I can't quite remember, but Katherine Pear won second place."

Markus smiled before confusion washed over him. Odd how he was proud to hear that. "Imam's friend," Valeria continued, "is one of the local writers/indie publishers in Monland. He met the winners and, obviously," she pulled out her phone, swiping here and there before showing the screen to Markus, "took individual photos with them and published it on his blog. Which one is she?"

"This one." Markus zoomed the last photo. He held back a chuckle at how Katherine hadn't changed much in looks and fashion style. "That's her, I'm pretty sure of it."

Valeria turned the phone back at her, a furrow appearing between her brows. "Huh. She's a plain one. I half-expected her to be the one with dark eyeliners and leather jacket." The phone chimed the locking notification before Valeria put it on the table. "So, can you ask her if she's interested in it and if she's still into writing? Because that'd be nice to find some fresh writers."

"She is," Markus said as he leaned back, the fake leather pressing against his back, "in fact, she's editing some of her short stories. I'll help her reach for Imam when she's ready."

"Perfect."

"She's also interested in writing novels."

"That's great, we can work something out. Does she have any manuscript ready or in progress?"