8 years in the life

Chapter 58 - September 2015

Since they were back from Saint-Barth, Rory had never been so determined. Nothing could ruffle her, or get her flustered. As soon as she'd stepped foot in New-York, her phone had been filled with messages from Catherine Targetti. She didn't bother listening to them and just returned the call. The agent answered at the first ring. They hadn't signed anything yet, but over the weekend, she had already built a strategy for Rory. The first thing was to submit the short story to other literary magazines than the New Yorker.

Moreover, Rory had been asked that her blog been added in blog tours. She was surprised as hers was very young, but they said that she already had a name as an editor and former reporter. She'd noticed that she had an increased number of followers, but didn't know if they were reading it. Anyway, it would be an excellent way to meet other fiction writers.

When she started this blog, it felt so good writing about her passion that she posted almost daily, talking about her favorite books, or the emotions she still had from old books she read long ago. Jess' comments were incredible, and they were getting used to banter. Sometimes Robert would chip in, but it wasn't his thing, and he much preferred to work her up in private.

She'd been reading book blogs for a long time. They were much more interesting than Goodreads or Bookbub which were now only commercial social media.

Even if she was still working at Rodham, this additional intense writing activity didn't unbalance her life. She didn't fear that her novel wouldn't reach enough readers, she just didn't want to regret that she hadn't tried. Her relationship with Robert was anchoring her on earth, and with him, she felt invincible, nothing would be able to tear her down. She understood that with her grandfather's death. She couldn't get lost because he would always be there for her, she had absolutely no doubt about it.

Rory had found this new energy. She had been compensating the loss of her grandfather by filling all the bookcases of the house. Some people would say it was hoarding, but she said that it wasn't since they were books. Anyway, what was the point to have such a big house if you couldn't fill it with what you love?

Soon she would turn thirty-one, and she had learned that self-doubt was her worst enemy. Therefore, she had decided she wouldn't let room for it and stick to what she loved and trust — her work, writing, friends and family, and of course Robert.

She felt bad because she thought she had neglected him over the last month. He'd never complained and had been nothing but a loving patient boyfriend. All these nights when she would walk up sobbing, he was there, holding her, let her sorrow spill out of her. He would handle her a tissue, listen to her rambling. He had kept the freezer packed with her favorite flavors of ice cream, the pantry with pop tarts and red vines. She sensed he was worried about his book release. Several advance copies had been sent to book critics before the official publication, and they were still waiting for the feedback. Most of the reviews will only be published on the day of the book release.

Contrary to the general belief, some men were good at multitasking and Robert was one of them. At least that was the thought until feelings were involved.

September was pure madness. He had to deal with the beginning of the academic year at Columbia and the preparation of his book release. He had now to fit a book tour in his schedule during the worst period of the fall semester.

Robert was afraid that people would think that his Obama biography would be too sugar-coated. After all, it happened to David Axelrod's memoir. Robert was still devoted to the President; he couldn't help himself. Therefore, he'd used his researcher skills to stick to the facts. People wanted juicy information from that kind of book, in particular from someone who had worked at the White House.