I was working at a local bookstore when I got an offer from a man with a penchant for putting his money where his mouth is.
“I want to start a publishing company,” he said.
“What do you want to do?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’st even try to make eye contact.
Instead, I gave him the impression that he might be interested in the position.
The next thing I knew, he’d gone to the office and asked the assistant to come with him.
I sat in silence for about two hours.
When I got home, I told my husband I didn’ t think I was interested.
I told him to just tell him to keep my mouth shut.
But then I saw a picture of the book cover, and it all clicked.
I wanted to get involved.
I had no idea what I was getting into.
I did, however, find out that the agent, whose name I can’t remember, was the one who made my job a lot easier.
A man who wanted to be the head of the publishing house told me that his client had the right people.
That’s how it goes, I thought, as I sat at my desk, waiting for the job to begin.
A few weeks later, I got a call from my new employer.
It was a man named Joe.
I asked him how I should proceed.
“We’ll give you a call if you want,” he replied.
I gave Joe a call, but he kept calling me.
He had a few questions to ask me, so he called back and said, “I’m going to call you back tomorrow and say that I want to see if you can help me find someone who will write the book.
You must have an agent for that.”
My heart sank.
What could I do?
He was asking me for help with the writing of a book.
I knew it was a longshot, but the fact that he knew me made it all the more difficult.
I didn t know where to start.
Joe had an agent.
What should I do about it?
I knew that I was on my own, but what should I say to him?
I didn a say nothing, say anything to the man.
What I should say is that I would like to help him.
So, I agreed to give him my input, which I did.
After the first day of writing, I asked Joe if he could give me a call.
I said, I need to talk to you.
“Do you have any clients?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
I showed him a few pictures and told him that I had an idea for a book, and that he should have me write it.
Joe was impressed, but when I explained to him that he was asking a guy with no experience at all to write a book about his life, he was shocked.
I explained that I wanted a book that would appeal to an older demographic and would not be a typical children’s book.
Joe asked me to meet him for lunch at his home.
Joe and I chatted about a little bit of the writing process and then Joe asked if I could write the first chapter.
I thought I had a chance, but Joe was not impressed with my first draft.
I kept asking him what I could do, and he finally told me, “Go to your agent and let them know that you want this book.”
I told Joe that I wasn’t interested, but I still needed to find an agent to help me get the job done.
Joe came back and told me he had an offer.
“You know,” he told me.
“There are a few people who have already signed up for the book, so if you do the book and you meet with them, I’ll send you a check.”
I thanked him, then I hung up.
Joe called me back, and I told his assistant that I needed to talk.
I couldn’t think of any way that I could have possibly done it myself, so instead of telling Joe what I had done, I said I would tell my boss.
Joe got my head out of my ass and said he would give me some more details about the job.
I went to my boss, and as I walked in the door, he said, Joe, you’re doing great!
Joe said, We’re looking for an editor and we need someone who can write the best prose.
I laughed, but then I thought about Joe and how it made me think about my life, and how I was going to get that job.
The writer Joe hired was a guy named Matt Gifford.
He was from a small town in the northwest corner of Montana, so my mother always said he was from the Midwest.
When he first told me what he wanted to do, I was blown away by his enthusiasm.
He wanted to write about his favorite subject, and the story he wanted was about his love of sports.
The story I wanted was that