She went on, "A lot of this depends on what the writer is comfortable doing. Be sure to realize that neither approach is right or wrong. Orla's books are, frankly, deeper than mine. But mine, I believe and hope, are enjoyed by just as many contented readers. And it's what I'm comfortable writing. And I know from experimenting with one book, I don't do multiple viewpoint half as well as she does. Now let's hear what all of you think about this, or want to ask about."
The group had lots of good questions for both speakers. Slightly more of them were directed at Ms. Witherspoon, about the technicalities of being in a number of characters' minds. Who should dominate the story? How could you go into the mind of the perpetrator without giving away the solution? Or didn't you ever go into the
perp's viewpoint? If so, wasn't that a sure sign that he or she was the murderer? Ms. Witherspoon fielded these questions with explanations.
When Ms. Ellis was questioned about the main character speculating on the other characters' traits without the problems Ms. Witherspoon had listed, she said, "I let the characters speak and act for themselves. The reader usually draws the same conclusion as the sleuth does. I have no problem with writing, for example, 'Porky replied shyly,' or 'Violet became angry'
"That's what my first-person sleuth thinks," she went on. "Sometimes the sleuth later finds out it was the wrong impression. And so does the reader."
Everyone had so many questions that when the allotted time ran out, they straggled out of the room still asking the speakers and each other questions.
Jane thought it had been a very enjoyable and well-prepared argument between friends and philosophies. She was glad she'd attended. And worried that Shelley's seminar must have been boring compared to her choice.
Jane was right. Shelley said dramatically, "You have no idea how deadly that was. I'm so glad I was at the back of the room and could slip out."
"You didn't learn anything interesting?"
"No, not really. Just what you said. The rules of punctuation change with the times, and various publishing houses have their own rule books theyfollow. Some are out of date, some don't care as long as the writer is consistent to his or her own rules, some don't care at all. They handed out lists of style sheets and recommended asking your publisher in advance which grammar and punctuation book you should follow. Imagine someone who's never published yet, asking a question like that."
"I'm so sorry I stuck you with that," Jane said. "The one I went to was wonderful. By the way, I haven't seen anything of the cowgirl Wonder Woman all morning, have you?"
"I heard that Vernetta crashed one of the other seminars in the middle of the second speech and made a fool of herself," Shelley said. "So she's still kicking. Didn't Felicity say Sophie Smith never appeared at conferences very much unless she was the single speaker?"
"Yes, I think she did. What did Vernetta do, specifically?"
Shelley said, "I didn't care to hang around the people who were ranting against her long enough to find out. But she and her hubby were in new costumes."
"Oh, what now?"
"Hawaiian," Shelley said. "I saw them when they left the room where it was held."
"Grass skirt?" Jane asked.
"In silver tinsel instead of grass. With paper flowers around her neck. Gaylord in the ugliest floral shirt I've ever seen, shorts, and sandals, and
beat-up straw hats on both. Gaylord's legs are white and skinny. They looked like raw chicken legs. Vernetta's legs are dimpled lard."
"You're making this up, right?"
"I am not."
"Are we going to the luncheon?" Jane asked. "I've heard rumors that the guest speaker is boring."
"We've paid for it in our fee. We might as well try it out. If it's good, we can eat it. If not, we can find our own lunch. I wonder if Felicity is free?"
"She's probably required to show up and mingle with fans," Shelley said. "It's in her best interest even if she doesn't have to attend. We can sit near the door and slip out before the speech. Pretending we're taking a potty break, if anyone at our table asks."
The luncheon, as it turned out, was extremely tasty and came to the table hot. "We should have guessed it would be good," Jane said, "considering how terrific those desserts were last night. We are sticking around for dessert this time, too, aren't we?"
"Of course we are. We can bolt it down and run away."
"And go shopping," Jane said.Ten
Shelley found the pin she'd seen. It was no longer in the shop window, but Shelley insisted they must have at least one more somewhere. When she offered, quite firmly, to help the assistant manager find it in storage at the back of the shop, suddenly the young woman remembered where it was kept.
Jane agreed it was exactly what she needed. And the price was much less than she'd feared. Shelley spotted a few new pieces of jewelry in the shop and made Jane try on a ring that had the same pretty paste stone as the pin. Jane didn't normally wear any rings at all for fear they'd either be impossible to squeeze back over her knuckle or be big enough to fall off unnoticed.
But Shelley said it fit perfectly and would do neither. Jane plunked down her credit card. When Shelley was so sure of something, there was no point in arguing. Shelley would just come back and buy it for Jane as a gift.
Jane put the pin on her sweater, the ring on her
finger, and said, "We're going to be late for the one-thirty session. Let's go."
Unfortunately, none of the one-thirty sessions especially interested either of them, so out of loyalty they went to the one where Felicity Roane was a panelist.
Even Felicity looked bored by the topic, which was "Planning Your Own Future in Publishing."
One of the baby agents went on and on about how your agent could map out a plan to follow.
"And what if the agent decides to have a baby and is off work for the first two years of its life?" Felicity asked. "Things like this happen. Editors become agents to make more money. Editors move to other publishing houses at the speed of light. Agents move to new agencies and writers get stuck with their assistant, who hasn't ever read one of your books and doesn't want to."
She went on, "As an author, the only thing you can control in this business is the quality of your work. And your reputation as a professional — producing manuscripts on time, making sure there are as few errors as possible. Not behaving as if you were their only author."
"Oh dear, Ms. Roane, these things you've cited that go wrong at the publishing end don't happen that often," the baby agent said with a giggle.
"How long since you graduated from college, my dear?" Felicity asked with a smile, but with fire in her eyes.
"Only two years. Vassar," the baby agent answered proudly. "But I've learned a lot about the business since then."
"I've been publishing my work for twenty-one years," Felicity said. "Bear with me. I really do know just a little bit more about this than you do."
The moderator jumped in and changed the subject and directed an extremely innocuous question about customary contract terms to another of the panelists.
"Poor Felicity," Jane said to Shelley under her breath. "She's running out of patience with fools, and I don't blame her."
The rest of the session wound down without any other problems but not much information either. Shelley and Jane went up to the speakers' table when the session was over. Everyone but Felicity had already fled. Felicity had taken out her contacts and was dumping everything in her purse hunting for her glasses.
She glanced up at them, smiling. "I made a bit of an ass of myself. But I was right and that little girl wasn't."
"Everybody knew that," Jane said.
"At least I'm done," Felicity said with a sigh. "I have no more obligations. Don't you have an appointment pretty soon with that editor I suggested?" she asked Jane.
"At three," Jane said.
"I think you'll like her. She's a grown-up. That's a pretty pin on your sweater."
Jane went back up to the suite to retrieve
her second copy of the first three chapters and the outline. Shelley came along. "What session do you want me to attend while you're busy?" Shelley asked.
"I don't see anything very interesting," Jane said, glancing at the brochure. "Why don't you just veg out?"
"No, I'm going to go back to that shop and buy another of those pins so that we can give it to Felicity."
"What makes you think there is another one?"
"Didn't you notice? The girl came out with two boxes. I'm going to snag the other one while I can. Felicity's been very nice and candid with us. And she needs a pick-me-up."
Jane chose the copy she meant for the very good editor Felicity had recommended. This copy had something extra.
Months before, when Jane had broken down and bought a new computer, she had also bought a house plan program. The majority of her plot took place in an old rambling mansion perched on a cliff and backed by a village where a few of the scenes played out. She'd used the program to make a floor plan of the house and a map of the village as well. It was what had really inspired her to make a serious attempt to finish the book. This packet included copies of both the floor plan and the village map.
The editor was reading a book when Jane came into the meeting room a few minutes early.
The editor looked up and said, "You must be Mrs. Jeffry." She stood up, leaned over the table, and shook Jane's hand. "I'm Melody Johnson."
"I know you are," Jane said with a smile. "Felicity Roane told me to be sure and see you. She thinks very highly of you."
Melody Johnson appeared to be well into her forties, beautifully groomed, and casually, but stylishly, dressed. She wasn't what Jane thought of as "New Yorkish." She could have been a neighbor of Jane's.
"And I of her," Ms. Johnson said. "Let me see what you're clutching in your hand with a death grip."
Jane laughed and handed over the folder.
Ms. Johnson flipped through the pages and said, "A very nice presentation, Mrs. Jeffry."
"Please call me Jane. It scares me when people call me Mrs. Jeffry except if they're salespeople."
"And I'm Melody," the editor replied as she continued to examine the manuscript. "Oh, house plans! And the layout of a village! I love books with relevant illustrations. These are very good. Would you be so kind as to bring us both soft drinks while I skim the outline?"
Jane was over the moon. She could hardly make her legs work right as she headed for the snack table. She picked up two plastic cups of ice-cold Coke and dawdled, watching as Melody Johnson read the outline.
When Melody looked up, Jane crossed the room and set the drinks on the table.
"Have you finished this book?" Melody asked. "Or is this what you plan to do?"
"I've finished it," Jane said. "At least I thought I had before I came to this conference. I've already heard some advice I might want to incorporate. It's just a couple of paragraphs added and a few deleted or moved. I think the book would be better with them."
"I'd like to read the sample chapters in peace and quiet, then go over the outline again. And I want to know, after I do that, what you're planning to change. May I keep this overnight and meet with you again tomorrow?"
Jane said, "I'd be grateful."
"No promises, mind you. I think well of what I've seen so far. But I'd like to know more about the proposal before we discuss it. Would you mind giving me your room number?"
Jane managed to nod agreement without kissing the woman's feet. She all but floated out the door and went in search of Shelley.
Eleven
jane was frantic to find Shelley and tell her all about her interview. She finally discovered Shelley sitting in the bar with Felicity. They each had a glass of red wine in front of them and were sharing a bowl of potato chips and a bowl of guacamole.
"Have you two been hiding from me?" Jane asked.
"Didn't you receive my message?" Shelley asked. "What do you think a cell phone is for?"
Jane pulled her phone out of her purse, looked at the little screen, and asked, "Is that what this little envelope thing means?" and added as the bartender passed, "A big glass of iced tea, please."
"The object, Jane," Shelley commented, "is to leave the phone on so you know when someone calls."
"I have been," Jane said, "but not when I'm in a seminar, and certainly not when I'm talking to an editor."
"Okay. You're right," Shelley said. This was something she rarely admitted to. "How did it go?"
"Wonderfully. She's a grown-up. She took the time to really read through the outline and a bit of the first chapter. I've given her a copy of the house plan and the village map, and she said she loved books with things like that."
She'd spoken calmly but what she really wanted to do was jump up and down with glee and hug everyone in sight. She knew that kind of behavior would make her look like a fool, especially in front of a professional writer.
"Congratulations," Felicity said. "I knew you'd like her."
"A bit early for congratulations," Jane said. "She also made it clear that she wasn't making any promises. I admitted I'd learned a few things here that I thought I might consider on a final pass. She's going to read the chapters and the outline tonight and contact me tomorrow about the changes I have in mind."
Jane's drink arrived and the three women decided to sit at a table at the back of the bar to finish the discussion. They carted their drinks, book bags, purses, potato chips, and guacamole along with them.
When they were finally seated, Shelley pulled a box out of her book bag. "Jane and I have a present for you, Felicity."
"Why?"
Jane said, "Because you've been very nice to us."
Shelley had even had the box gift wrapped.
Felicity opened it and said, "Oh, how sweet of
you both. It's a pin like Jane's." She put it on her jacket and they all admired it.
"Now tell us in detail every word and every look," Felicity said to Jane.
Jane did so.
"I'm glad to know you do know this might not work out," Felicity said. "Don't fail to go to your third interview. And would you make me a copy of your manuscript when you've made your final revisions? I'd really like to see the whole thing. If Melody Johnson doesn't take it for some reason, I might be able to make some other suggestions, if you'd like me to. Here's my card."
Jane's jaw nearly dropped.
"Shelley, we should have gotten this woman a far more expensive piece of jewelry," Jane said. "I'd love to have your comments, Felicity. That's so generous of you."
"Not really. I do like to help out unpublished writers if they've already had at least half a foot in a good door and show the right attitude toward what they're doing." She added, "Just so you don't tell any of the rest of the aspiring writers. I need to walk off this drink and brush my teeth or someone will start a rumor that I'm a lush," she finished, getting to her feet.
Before Felicity could leave, one of the conference planners approached her and took her aside. Jane and Shelley watched as Felicity kept shaking her head and saying "No."
Finally she caved in to the planner's plea and
came back to the table and said, "They've dragged me into the reviewers' panel. Zac Zebra has gone missing. He's not in his room. They've cruised all the meeting rooms and even the shops, and there's no sign of him. He lives nearby and they've even called him at home."
"But you're not a reviewer, are you?" Shelley asked. She didn't really care much that Zac had left the conference. As far as she knew, he was only there for his nuisance value.
"I used to be before I started writing. Then I found myself having to critique books by people who had become friends, or at least acquaintances, after I started being published. I wanted to be honest about their books. But I didn't want to criticize when a friend wrote a clunker. Even the best writers eventually write a bad book. So I quit reviewing. I didn't think anyone here knew about it. I was wrong about that."
"You'll make it through okay. Just tell
the audience what you've just told us," Shelley suggested.
"I suppose that's all I can do," Felicity said. "It's odd, though, that Zac would be willing to miss a chance to show off."
"Maybe he's just lost his schedule and doesn't realize," Jane said.
When Felicity had gone, Jane said to Shelley, "This is the last seminar of the day, and I have my last appointment."
"I'll go to the reviewers' panel for you," Shelley said. "You'll be able to slip in for most of itafter your interview. I think we should both show our support for Felicity. I liked what she said about why she quit reviewing. I think the audience will as well."
Jane's last interview was with another baby agent. Tiffany was an insecure young woman with a small though prestigious agency. She seemed more nervous than Jane was. She was seriously pregnant as well.
"Tell me a little about your book," she suggested faintheartedly, as if she'd come to the end of her rope.
"I have three chapters and an outline," Jane said, handing over her last packet.
The young woman took the packet but didn't open it. "Just talk about it. I'll look this over later."
Jane did her best to articulate what the book was about. The girl kept glancing at her watch while Jane spoke. Finally when the fifteen minutes were over, she said, "Well, that sounds interesting. I'll read your material on the way back to New York. I assume you've put your address and phone number in the packet."
"I have. Thank you for your time," Jane said, rising and putting her hand forward to shake. The girl put out a limp, damp paw and looked even more disconcerted.
Jane was disappointed, of course. She realized, as well, that she wouldn't like to work with such a wimpy person in any case. Maybe the girl
Bell, Book, and Scandal jj-14 Page 6