Part 23 (1/2)

Are you saying you set all this in motion without reading the book? That takes my breath away.

John

from the office of the editor-in-chief

TO: John DATE: 4/3/81

MESSAGE: You're my guy, John. We may have had our differences from time to time, but I've never doubted your editorial judgement for a single moment. If you say this is the one, this is the one. On that score, the ivy makes no difference. You're my guy. And while I probably don't need to tell you this, I will: no contact with James Saltworthy until we hear from Alan Williams. Okay?

Roger

i n t e r o f f i c e m e m o

TO: Roger FROM: John RE: Vote of confidence

To say I'm touched by your confidence in me doesn't go far enough, boss. Especially after the Detweiller f.u.c.k-up. Fact is, I'm sitting here at my desk and d.a.m.ned near blubbering on my blotter. All will be as you say. My lips are sealed.

John

PS: You do know, don't you, that Saltworthy must have already sent the book to Viking?

from the office of the editor-in-chief

TO: John DATE: 4/3/81

MESSAGE: First, no blubbering on the blotter-blotters cost money, and as you know, all expenses must now be forwarded to the parent company on a week by week basis (if we needed another sign that The End Is Near, surely that's it). Blubber in your wastebasket...or go on down to Riddley's former quarters and water the plant with your grateful tears.

(Yes, I know perfectly well that no one is paying the slightest attention to my strong recommendation that we all stay clear of the ivy. I could put it in writing, I suppose, but it would just be a waste of ink. Especially since I've been down there a time or two myself, breathing deep and drawing inspiration.) Second, how can you call the Detweiller business a f.u.c.k-up, considering how it has turned out? Harlow Enders and Apex may not know we're ready to turn the corner into a glorious future, but we do! but we do!

Third, Alan Williams checked the files over there. Last Survivor Last Survivor was supposedly read (or scanned, or perhaps just s.h.i.+fted from the envelope it came in to the one it went back in) and rejected in November of 1978. The editor who signed off on it was one George Flynn, who left publis.h.i.+ng to set up his own job-printing business in Brooklyn about a year ago. According to AW, and I quote, ”George Flynn had the editorial antennae of a rutabaga.” was supposedly read (or scanned, or perhaps just s.h.i.+fted from the envelope it came in to the one it went back in) and rejected in November of 1978. The editor who signed off on it was one George Flynn, who left publis.h.i.+ng to set up his own job-printing business in Brooklyn about a year ago. According to AW, and I quote, ”George Flynn had the editorial antennae of a rutabaga.”

Fourth, don't give the ms. to LaShonda. Make the copies yourself, and remember the false t.i.tle page. and remember the false t.i.tle page.

Fifth (I'm ready ready for a fifth, believe me), please no more memos until at least afternoon. I know I said ”everything in writing” from here on out, but my head is starting to ache. I have one from Bill I haven't even looked at. for a fifth, believe me), please no more memos until at least afternoon. I know I said ”everything in writing” from here on out, but my head is starting to ache. I have one from Bill I haven't even looked at.

Roger

i n t e r o f f i c e m e m o

TO: Roger FROM: Bill Gelb RE: Possible Bestseller

You asked for ideas, and I've had what might be a doozy, boss. I went over to Smiler's earlier in the day (warning: that idiotic woman with the guitar is still in front-if she gets picked up and inst.i.tutionalized, I hope the judge sends her to music school) and checked out their paperback rack. It's a pretty good one (i.e., lots of Pocket Books, Signets, Avons, Bantams, no Zenith Houses except for one dusty Windhover that was published 2 years ago). I counted five so-called nonfiction books about aliens and/or flying saucers, and six six on investing in the Reagan Era stock market. My idea is suppose we combined the two? on investing in the Reagan Era stock market. My idea is suppose we combined the two?

The core concept is this: a stockbroker is abducted by little gray men who first read his brainwaves, suck blood from his nasal cavities, and probe his a.n.u.s - standard stuff, in other words, been-there done-that. But then, to make up for the inconvenience, they give him stock tips based on their certain market knowledge, obtained in faster-than-light trips to the future. Most of it would be zen stuff like ”Never fill your barrow with old bricks” and ”Ancient stars offer the best navigation.” This c.r.a.p would, however, be spiced with more practical advice like ”Never sell short in a bull market” and ”In the long run, power and light stocks always rise.” We could call it Alien Investing Alien Investing. I know that at first blush the idea sounds crazy, but who would have figured a breakout bestseller called Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance? Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance?

I even have a writer in mind - Dawson Postlewaite, aka Nick Hardaway, the Macho Man himself. The stock market is Dawson's hobby (f.u.c.k, it's his mania, what keeps him poor and thus in our stable) and I think he'd almost do it gratis.