Sure, along with making some crude jokes and sly winks. Not on her life. Her mind raced. “That writing is private. I don’t want the story released. It’ll ruin my chances of being taken seriously. I don’t want to get ugly but you have no right. I refuse to give Ethos or Olympia my permission.”
Silence. “Hold on.” Another pause. Mike said something but not to her. Claire listened to paper being rifled and a female voice whispered in the background. “When you came on staff you signed a waiver and an agreement. Do you remember?” Tension pulled his words tight.
She gripped the steering wheel so hard her fingers went numb. She remembered signing an employment contract with a blanket permission agreement with Olympia West. She lowered her head on top of her hands, resisting the urge to bang her forehead against the steering wheel.
“Yes.” She exhaled the word, unable to say anything else.
“Then you also remember that on page three, you initialed the permission stating that whatever you submit, you release to Olympia to use as the publisher sees fit. There’s an agreement for compensation and permission to publish with any of the publisher’s lines.”
“Don’t I have a say in this?”
“I can’t help that you sent a story that is just what this publication house needs. It’s already gone out for a test read. We’ve come up with graphics, and a blog has already been started with over five hundred hits. This could very well go viral. Can you imagine?”
“You only received the story a few hours ago.” Her head pounded.
“You know how fast we move here. Upstairs has already funneled money into this piece. The marketing expense alone is more than a month’s salary. Be reasonable. You can understand why we’re not going to pull the piece. The higher-ups absolutely loved the writing and are thinking of a new e-pub erotica line for publication. Hell, you could be our savior. Hot is the new gold.”
“No. It’s not. You don’t understand.”
“Wrong, you don’t understand. Don’t you realize readership is down? We’re facing the possibility of downsizing. You live in that little cubby like a mole. You never seem to notice what’s going on in the world unless it involves work. Christ, I think the only reason you go out for drinks is that we discuss upcoming issues and toss around ideas. Think on this. Who do you imagine would be one of the first people to go when we need to re-channel our finances? I don’t want to pull your chain, but truth is truth. So, either way, you’re earmarked. Decide your path. Up or out.”
He was threatening her, but she no longer cared about returning to Ethos. It was her career he wanted to sacrifice either way. “I’ll be ruined. Any chance of being taken seriously will be over. How can you sacrifice my career for money?”
“You’re too dramatic. What career? You’re just starting out. Only two years out from grad school. Don’t be so serious. Look, if you’re so worried, publish the piece under a pseudonym.”
“What?” Claire was in a daze.
“A pen name. But I need to know a name within the hour. I’m betting when you see how well this story does, you’ll shed a pseudonym in no time. Shit, most writers would be tickled to know that something they’ve written is so well received. The editor-in-chief’s office wants a meeting with you to go over the test readers’ responses. Do you want to see a list of concerns and what is being proposed? Some of them are pretty comical.”
“I wasn’t going for infamous. There’s a difference, you know.”
“Many writers start out with edgy stories, and, sure, some aren’t acceptable to the masses. Heck, there’s a publishing holiday designated for celebrating banned books. Just change your perspective. Infamous or famous, both categories will get you noticed. As a writer, you can reinvent yourself at any moment. Only you can box yourself in with false boundaries. Let go and find yourself. Stop living according to someone else’s rules. Shit, if everyone had such high standards, nothing would ever get published.”
“Thanks for the pep talk. I’ll let you know if I’m going with a pen name.”
Her knuckles had turned white. She threw her phone on the passenger seat and drove down Dustin’s driveway. She still didn’t know what story she’d released.
Yes, you do, the critic whispered. She recalled the office sex story she’d worked on last night and moaned loudly. That was no short story, it was a full-blown novel length manuscript with enough sex scenes to make her face glow. Dear Lord, what next?
Claire opened the car door, still dazed, and labored up the steps. She walked into the small entrance and met her reflection in the mirror. She looked out of sorts. Her hair was messy, her skin a deep pink, and her eyes stared back.