Chapter Text
Send cover and final proof to production – check.
Spell-check this week’s social media posts – check.
Confirm author visit for upcoming event – check.
Simon is surrounded by the sound of people clacking away at keyboards and soft whispers for quick consults to not disturb anyone as he crosses yet another task off his to-do list. He is, if he says so himself, on fire today.
Hound editors for texts for the new catalog – check, check, and double check.
After he crosses that last item of his to-do list, he deletes the final email in his inbox. He stares at his empty inbox for a second – it looks almost unreal. It’s the first time in a month that this has happened, and he wants to relish in the feeling for as long as possible.
His coworkers usually flood his inbox, asking him to do this and that; if he can just quickly set up this book for a reprint or quickly look at that e-book for them to make sure there’s no errors in it. It always leaves him with more unfinished tasks than he started with when the clock finally strikes 5:00 pm, making it hard to ever fully shake that feeling of being completely overwhelmed.
But today everyone seems completely lost in their own work. Simon secretly hopes they’re all focussed on getting their assets for the upcoming catalog – the list of titles that they will come out with next season – so that it can actually be finished on time. This is the first time he’s part of that process and it’s a lot of responsibility, so he just wants everything to run as smoothly as possible, and that means banking on everyone being done with their things on time. Even if his coworkers are not working on the catalog – and he desperately hopes they are – they clearly all have something going on that have them incredibly focussed, focussed enough to not bother Simon for once.
He’s not complaining. With a now empty inbox, the rest of the day stretches out in front of him.
However, an empty inbox means that Simon can no longer put off his most dreaded task: the slush pile.
With a muffled groan so he doesn’t disturb his coworkers, he clicks into it.
He likes most of his job but this? Yeah, he hates this.
An overflowing inbox with more than 200 unread messages stares back at him from the screen, filled with spontaneously-sent-in manuscripts by aspiring (and often, extremely uninspiring) authors, who have put it all out there to get even a shot at getting their book published.
As an editorial assistant, and thus at the bottom of the publishing food chain, it’s Simon’s job to read them all, weed through them to maybe find that one gem. That one rare and beautiful flower in a field of dandelions. In his three months on the job, he has yet to find it.
The slush pile, as far as Simon can tell, is a mere courtesy. No one actually expects to find something worth publishing in there. Most publishers don’t even have it open year-round and only allow people to send in their manuscripts one month a year. Sadly for Simon, Harper Sverige isn’t one of those publishers. They’re all about giving people chances, looking for new opportunities and ‘supposedly’ taking risks, hoping to stumble upon the next big thing just like that. Even if the chances of finding something good in there are very unlikely. That was one of the first things Simon learned when he started working there.
Simon hates going through it because it is so incredibly tiresome, more tiresome than any other part of his job, and knowing it’s usually for nothing makes it hard to really be enthusiastic about it. Most of the writing is flat and unimaginative, cliché characters that he’s seen a thousand times before, and slightly too often it’s just a straight knock-off from an already existing bestseller. Luckily for him, he doesn’t need to read the full manuscript to know if it’s any good or not – he can tell as much from the first 50, sometimes even 20 pages.
As much as Simon hates reading the manuscripts, he hates sending the rejections even more. He knows he’s crushing hopes and dreams with every “we’re sorry to inform you…” and “just not right for our catalog”. It makes him feel awful. It doesn’t help that every email he sends is simply a copy paste from a Word-document with polite rejections that don’t actually say “we simply didn’t like it” or “this sucked please stop writing” (even if half the time they should). Instead, he encourages the authors to not give up and wishes them the best. Then, he moves onto the next manuscript as if he hasn’t just ruined someone’s day, only to repeat the process again.
Of course, not every manuscript is bad. There are some genuinely good ones as well, ones that he can’t quite let go of after he’s read the first 50 pages (and that’s a good thing, it means the story has sucked him in somewhat). But when he finishes them, they’re still not quite good enough.
Because that’s the thing: it doesn’t matter if it’s good. It has to be good enough. Good enough to set itself apart in an already oversaturated market, good enough to spark reader’s interest. It needs to be new and original and fresh, but it also can’t be too different, because then it won’t find its readership. It needs to fit within the image of the house, fit amongst their own list of authors but again, it can’t be the exact same as what they’ve already come out with. It’s a tough line to walk, and the book market is a harsh world. If they’d give a chance to every aspiring author who writes even somewhat decently, the company would turn a loss in record time.
Simon hits send on another email, another dream crushed (which he would feel bad about if that particular manuscript had any redeeming qualities, but it didn’t) and glances at the clock. It’s 4:40 pm. Logically, he could look at one more manuscript, ruin one more person’s life before he clocks out. Or he could just sit here at his desk, lean back and wait for it to finally be 5 pm.
He chuckles slightly and shakes his head at the sheer ridiculousness of that thought. He’s new on the job and, besides, he’s always been a hard worker; he didn’t get here by slacking off, and if he wants to move up, he’s certainly not going to slack off now. He wants to be an actual editor one day, the one who finds books to publish, who makes the decisions, and he’s not going to get there by sitting on his ass. No, he has to prove himself.
Simon clicks on the next manuscript, already apprehensive that it won’t be good and that he’s wasting his and the author’s time. Well, it is what it is.
8:55
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Manuskript – Allt är falskt – W. Viklund
To whom it may concern,
Please find attached the manuscript for my work, Allt är falskt, the proposal and author bio.
I’m looking forward to hearing your reaction.
Kind regards,
W. Viklund
Simon opens the proposal first. It’s succinct at only a few pages long, but enough, and, he has to admit, a bit intriguing:
After a tragic death in the family, Finn (16) gets sent away to a boarding school in the Swedish countryside, far away from the troubles and dangers of the city. There, he meets the sweet and gentle Julian (16), who has the voice of an angel and the looks of one too.
As Finn tries to navigate his way through this new life and figure out how to deal with the insurmountable grief of losing his father, he finds himself falling for Julian, which leads him to question his sexual identity.
At first glance, Simon likes the concept – it feels original, with lots of emotional trouble for the main character, but not too much. It looks to be a journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance, and could have the tone of a classic coming-of-age novel, a good genre for this kind of story – at least judging from the proposal. And what Simon likes most about it, is that it’s going to be queer – something that he feels particularly drawn to.
It’s not only because Simon himself is gay, though he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t a factor. But growing up, Simon never felt like there were any books for him. As a biracial, gay teen, he simply couldn’t relate enough to the white, straight main characters in the majority of the books. He wishes there had been more for him, more written in his own language (or one of them) as well, with someone like him in mind as the target audience. One thing he vowed to do when he got hired was to try and make sure that kids like him could see themselves reflected in the books they read. Which in this case, means to at least consider every queer story he comes across.
Simon scrolls further, and finds that he’s surprisingly impressed with the proposal. It’s well thought out and it’s clear the author has put every bit of effort into it. There’s only one thing that slightly worries him. The author has decided to list books the story can be compared to, to give a further idea of what the book will be. Aside from one title, they’re all very literary. Which is fine, but not good for Harper. His company doesn’t do the literary, high-brow stuff, with complicated language and even more complicated themes; it’s as simple as that.
It’s a bit of a worrisome detail, but not enough to turn him off of the submission completely.
Next up is the biography, which he normally doesn’t give more than a cursory glance to. The reason they ask for this is so that they can get an idea of who the author is as a person – and, also, to see if they have any kind of network that they can use to help sell the book.
But where the proposal was detailed enough, explaining the themes and setting and characters and whatnot, the biography is… Well, nothing really. There’s barely anything in it, only containing half a name (W. Viklund), pronouns he/him, an approximate age and that the author has many connections, but without any proof to back those so-called connections up. There’s absolutely nothing useful in it.
It’s clear that the author wants to stay anonymous, but that isn’t going to help Simon if he ends up pitching the book to his coworkers. So much of publishing nowadays is also the influence of the author, who might be able to convince their following to buy the book. An anonymous debuting author can’t do that, making it all the more risky to publish. Well, it’s whatever. It probably doesn’t matter anyways; a proposal can be good, and the writing can still be as shitty as anything, so he’d probably still be rejecting the manuscript. The manuscript that, he has to admit, he’s now very intrigued to read.
The story opens with the main character, Finn, being driven to his new school by his family’s personal driver. The car ride is silent, loaded and heavy as the narrative voice tells the reader that Finn wishes for his friends and old school back in Stockholm. The scene continues into a colorful description of the school: a vast expanse of green and towering red brick walls. Students in forest green school uniforms milling about to get to their first class of the day.
From the very first page, it’s clear that Simon had no reason to worry about this author’s writing skills. The atmosphere of the scene is enthralling and so vivid that Simon can easily picture himself there. Aside from dealing with grief, the main character also seems to have anxiety (another tick on Simon’s list; he loves stories that explore mental health issues) even if he doesn’t know it yet. Simon chuckles. It seems to him that Finn has a lot to figure out.
Before he well and truly realizes it, Simon is completely sucked into the manuscript. Finn is an interesting character; he’s flawed, lashing out at his mom right at the beginning, and he has a hard time making friends because he keeps pushing everyone away. Or maybe it’s because all his friends seem to be so shallow they can’t even see he’s hurting. But most of all, he’s lonely. He’s longing for connection, someone to fill in the void.
And then there’s the choir boy, Julian, the projected love interest. He is the sun that breaks through the clouds in Finn’s mind even before they’ve talked to each other. There’s instant chemistry. Usually Simon hates instalove because it’s unrealistic, but somehow, it works with these two.
Simon doesn’t even notice it when all his coworkers start packing up for the day, or when the cleaner starts making her rounds, or that it’s now way past 5:00 pm.
He’s about to read Finn and Julian’s first meeting when the cleaner, Carmen, taps him on his shoulder.
“Simon? Isn’t it time for you to go home?”
Simon almost jumps out of his skin and turns around, startled. He was so entranced by the story that he’d completely lost track of time, of anything happening around him really. The world simply… disappeared.
Simon looks out the window, surprised to see that it’s already dark outside. All of his coworkers are gone too – Simon is the only one left.
“Yeah, just… got distracted,” he answers Carmen with a bit of a sheepish chuckle. “Sorry, I’ll be out of your hair in a moment.”
Simon quickly packs up his stuff as Carmen moves on to the next desk. He hates staying late – not only because he doesn’t get overtime, but also because he knows it’s a nuisance for Carmen to have to wait until his desk is clear so she can clean it. But before he logs off for the day, he prints out the manuscript – he doesn’t want to wait until tomorrow to finish it.
***
The manuscript burns a hole in his bag the whole way home, begging to be read, but he still stops at his favorite Chinese takeout place on his way home, and he can't get out of feeding his cat, Luna. It's a full hour later that he flops down on the couch, the printed out manuscript in one hand, ink still black and fresh on the page, and a pair of chopsticks in the other. A box of lo mein is precariously balanced on the armrest next to him.
He picks up the story right where he left off – Finn and Julian’s first meeting. He’s so excited to continue, nerves running so rampant in his stomach that he has to stop himself from letting his eyes wander to the bottom of the page. He wants to finish this as quickly as possible – the writing is just incredibly addictive –, but he also wants to take his time, take in every beautifully crafted word. W. knows how to play with language, let the language itself be as much part of the story as the characters. It’s beautiful; it’s a masterpiece.
And of course, he needs to know that Finn will be okay. Simon has quickly developed a soft spot for him. Even though he’s only spent a few pages, less than an hour really, with him, Simon feels like he just knows him already. He can’t stop picturing Finn in that black SUV, or stepping out on the school grounds, the overwhelming feeling of loneliness hitting Simon square in the chest.
Plus, Simon’s dying to see how the romance plays out.
He has a notebook next to him that he uses to write down everything that stands out to him – passages that resonate with him, things that he likes and dislikes. He doesn’t usually do this because it’s a waste of time when he knows he’s going to reject the manuscript anyways. He only does it for those manuscripts that still interest him after the first 5 pages, like W.’s manuscript has managed to do. Writing things down helps him make a decision – and more importantly, helps him make peace with that decision. It also allows him to take some distance from the manuscript, try and look at it with a professional eye, even though the more he reads, the harder he finds it to keep professional distance. It’s just so good.
Simon writes down that he likes how both Finn and Julian are so clearly teenagers, stumbling through their first taste of love with all the awkwardness it ensues. He does wish they’d communicate a bit more, a bit better. He also thinks it’s weird that Finn tells Julian that he’s ‘not like that’ when they kiss for the first time, and then immediately pulls him back into him for another kiss, but it’s cute and kind of adorable too.
Then the real drama kicks off. Simon’s eyes hungrily devour each page, each word and sentence. He forgets all about how he’s supposed to write things down, not wanting to take a break from the story for even a minute. Meanwhile, his lo mein has turned cold.
Finn and Julian have just spent their first night together after Julian dragged a drunk-off-his-ass Finn away from a party at the school to get him to his bed safely, only to have Finn confess to Julian that he likes him. Nothing happens that night, as Finn is probably too drunk to give any kind of proper consent, but when Finn wakes up early the next morning, Julian is still there. Julian asks him whether he remembers what he said last night. Julian’s fear for his answer – that Finn said it because he was drunk, or that he has simply blacked out too much – is palpable. Simon can almost see himself sitting there, on the edge of the bed, asking one of the hardest questions ever. It’s a confession in and of itself – do you like me too?
And then Finn answers. Yes, he remembers. And yes. He meant it.
The boys fall into each other then, in an actual kiss that sends a wave of relief through Finn. And from there, they fall into their first time having sex as well.
As far as sex scenes go, Simon finds that this one is really well-done. It isn’t smut, not even close to it, but it’s so full of feeling and emotion that you still get everything. Elbows accidentally hitting ribs interlaced with passionate kisses and neither of them really sure where bodies go. It’s realistic, it’s young, it’s teenagers in love. It’s everything Simon wishes he could have experienced when he was their age (in reality, Simon didn’t get into his first relationship until he was 19, and at that point he was slightly too old to have that real teenage giddiness of sneaking away to corners to make out in).
The next day, Finn and Julian wake up next to each other. Golden light streams through the window, giving the scene an ethereal atmosphere. Simon sees everything so clearly, it’s like he’s watching a movie rather than reading it.
Neither Finn nor Julian really wants to leave the bed, but they have a class to get to. Julian has to sneak out through the window since he doesn’t even live at the school and can’t be caught in Finn’s room. It’s why he can’t get breakfast in the common room either, at which Finn promises to give him a sandwich later on. Finn kisses him goodbye, with the promise of see you later hanging in the unspoken words between them, right before Julian clambers out the window.
But when Finn enters the breakfast room all alone, he’s struck with a horrific sight – on every wall, on every surface, there are pictures of him and Julian from last night, entangled in each other. Some pictures are still very modest, but there are also a few that leave little to the imagination, such as the one where Finn has his hand down Julian’s boxers.
A tight fist clenches around Simon’s heart, Finn’s fear mirroring his own – this is the worst case scenario for any closeted teen. Simon feels as sick as Finn does when Finn runs out of the room to go throw up in the bathroom.
Simon quickly turns the page to read on, only to realize that it was the last page. But no, this can’t be it. There has to be more, this can’t be the actual ending? He was promised a fulfilling, queer love story. He starts worrying his bottom lip, heart beating fast. Maybe he lost part of the manuscript on the way home? No, that’s not possible, he didn’t open his bag once. He makes a dash for his bag, desperate to read on, to know more and starts to rummage through his bag to see if there’s something in there. But his bag is painfully empty and there really aren’t any pages left.
But this… this can’t be the ending. That he’s certain of. He doesn’t remember seeing an outline in Wille’s proposal, something he had just shrugged off at first, but now he desperately wishes there had been one. If only so that he could know that Finn will be fine.
Simon vowed that he’d never open his email past office hours. He’s not getting paid enough for that. But he still rushes to get his laptop out, to log into his account and open up his inbox, fingers flying over his keyboard.
21:31
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Manuskript – Allt är falskt – W. Viklund
Dear W.,
I just finished reading your story, and it’s good, like really good. The characterizations, the plot, everything! I’d love to read more, if you have the time to send it?
Simon stares at the blinking cursor, rereading his words and it feels… wrong.
No, it feels right. Because he loves it, and he wants the author to know that (his coworkers have told him not to be too soft on authors that submit their works like that, but how is he supposed to do that when they write something like this?). He wants him to know that he’s desperate to read on. He wants W. to know that it’s something good. He wants to shout and scream about this story and ask a million questions and tell him how good he is.
But he can’t. Simon knows he can’t sound too excited. It might give W. false hope, might make him think he has a chance at getting published, which would make the ultimate rejection all the harder. No, it’s better to at least try to keep some professional distance.
Simon deletes the first sentence, and starts over.
21:43
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Manuskript – Allt är falskt – W. Viklund
I know the timing of this is odd, but I happened to take your manuscript home with me. I just finished reading through it all, and was just briefly wondering if there’s more? Because if so, please send it over.
I would love to read it.
All best,
The editorial department of Harper Sverige
Simon is not supposed to sign emails from the submission inbox with his name, because that’s how you get butt-hurt authors calling the office asking to talk to him. It’s better if the rejection, or any correspondence from that account really, is anonymous.
He knows there’s a good chance that the author won’t respond until morning, but at least he might have his answer the next morning. It’s just 8 hours. He can wait that long.
Simon sets his laptop aside again, and now that he has read everything there was to read, starts to think about what he’s just read. It’s good – it’s surprisingly good, maybe that one uncut gem kind of good. He’s never read anything like this before in the slush pile, or maybe in general. The story is addictive, making him want to flip back to page 1 and read it all over again.
And not only is the story good, Simon likes the tone and style as well. It’s poetic and flows just so, like a stream that you are all too happy to let pull you along. It’s lyrical, full of imagery that really speaks to the senses, and it’s just so tangible. Simon loves it, very much so. He even has that feeling, that pull that this might actually be something. Maybe not something life-changing, but close to it.
But what he feared when he read the proposal turns out to be true: it’s too literary, and that’s an issue. A big one.
W. uses complicated words, plays with the language and focuses on thoughts and feelings rather than dialogue. It doesn’t have that wider-market appeal that Simon’s boss is looking for, and he instinctively knows that because of that his boss won’t like it.
There’s an unmistakable ding about 15 minutes after Simon has sent that first message.
22:01
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Manuskript – Allt är falskt – W. Viklund
Dear editor,
I’m glad to hear you’re liking the story. At least, I suppose you are if you’re asking for more.
Please find the whole manuscript attached. I apologize for not sending it fully in the first place.
Kind regards,
W. Viklund
Simon hadn’t even realized he didn’t turn his computer off, but now he’s glad for it. Because now, all of a sudden, he has the full manuscript. The full story.
A part of him knows he shouldn’t stay up all night reading it, should save it for tomorrow because this, technically, is work. And since it might be too literary, it might not be worth losing his sleep over it. He tries to ignore it for a full five minutes, then tells himself that he can just read the first paragraph of the next chapter. That’s all. What’s a few more minutes anyways?
One more paragraph turns into one more chapter, and one more after that, and after that. At some point the clock passes midnight, 1 am, 2 am. He barely notices it, he’s even only vaguely aware of Luna curling up next to him on the couch and absentmindedly strokes her fur as he devours every single word.
The way W. does emotions is so real that when Finn breaks down in front of his parents, Simon has to put his laptop down for a second so he can let all the tears out that have turned his sight blurry, too blurry to continue reading.
And when Finn runs after Julian’s car in a (admittedly) slightly too cheesy ending that doesn’t quite fit the rest of the story, Simon’s heart soars. But it doesn’t only soar because his favorite couple will spend the rest of their lives together – because he has no doubt they will – but because Finn has finally realized that the life his family has planned out for him isn’t a path he has to go down on. He lets go of the familial expectations, and chooses himself, and that makes Simon more happy than anything. The whole ending had him grinning so much that his cheeks are starting to hurt and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to sleep, but he’s satisfied. He’s happy.
When Simon goes to bed to try and catch even a few hours of sleep, he does so feeling like he finally got to have that teenage romance he dreamed of for so long.
Simon only starts to regret last night’s activity when he walks to the coffee machine for the 4th time that day, but even then, he can’t say he really cares. This, this story, was something. There are some kinks and issues that W. needs to work out, but nothing that can’t be fixed with minimal editing. And that’s why, even though he’s only had a max of 3 hours of sleep, he decides to write up a pitch for the book after all to present during their next editorial meeting. Despite knowing that his boss won’t go for it, despite it being too literary. Simon has this feeling, this itch, that this story needs to be told. He’ll admit that it’s a little bit selfish as well; he wants to get more queer literature on their list, and this would be an incredible addition. And it’s not like more queer literature would be anything bad. At the very least, Simon has to try.
***
Their editorial meetings are on Monday, 10 am sharp. The team, made up of acquiring editors and publishers and one lone editorial assistant (Simon), sits around the large table in the conference room, the TV screen set up for any presentations, and they spend the next two hours discussing any and all manuscripts and book ideas they’ve come across.
Simon fidgets in his seat, not really paying attention to what the others are saying. Instead, he keeps leafing through his own pitch, almost praying that it’s good enough.
It’s been 4 days since he’s read W.’s incredible story, 4 days in which he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. The more he sits on it, the more he loves it and the more he needs the rest of the world to read it. One thing that he has to take into consideration when he decides to pursue a manuscript is the necessity of it. And this, this beautiful piece of prose with its complex emotions and incredible representation, is necessary. He knows that there’ll be some teen in Sweden whose life may be saved, or at the very least a bit better, if he reads about another Swedish queer teen who ends up happy.
When it is finally time for his pitch, Simon tries to still his shaking hands as he walks up to the screen. He can’t tell whether it’s nerves – he’s never actually pitched a book in a meeting before – or excitement, but either way it’s hard to keep his voice completely steady and to not pause too much.
“There’s a manuscript I read last week, that I think might be worth considering,” he starts as confidently as he can, and he pulls his presentation up on the screen.
Simon has done everything he could to prepare for this meeting, with a pitch that includes unique selling points, like a Swedish queer romance, marketing opportunities and target audience. He has even added cover ideas. If he can just sell his team on the idea of the book, then maybe it doesn’t matter that it’s too literary, and doesn’t quite fit their list.
But when he’s done talking, the director, his boss, frowns down at the printed-out version of his pitch that Simon handed to him earlier.
“I don't know...” he says, slowly, and Simon gets that sinking feeling in this chest. “I'm sure that you think it's good.” He pauses, and Simon holds his breath. “I'm just not sure if the market is ready for this. Besides, he'd be debuting. We have nothing to promote him on and with the amount of time we'd have to spend on it... it's not worth the risk. I'm sorry, Simon.” And just like that, there’s another dream crushed. Only this time, he really doesn’t want to be the one to crush it.
Simon bites back a million retorts. Screw being sure of selling something, screw marketability. Where has their love for literature, for text and reading gone? Why can’t a text just be good for once? Why can’t they just take the risk on it like they say they do, just this one time? For all they know it might be a bestseller!
He doesn’t say any of that though, because it will just fall on deaf ears and no one would take him seriously after that. So he swallows his words down, composes himself, thanks them for their time and takes his seat again.
***
Simon has been staring at the unsent rejection email for what feels like ages. It’s so unfair. This is an incredible story that deserves to be told and read by millions. Maybe he’s a bit biased, but he can see it going international even, hitting book stores in England and in the United States and who knows where else. But he knows he has no choice. His boss doesn’t want it, and that’s that.
He knows that in order to make books, they have to sell books, and that means making books they’re sure they can sell. Books that play with overdone tropes, with easy to digest text. The story can’t just speak for itself – it needs to be marketable. Simon is very against that idea, but that’s what he gets for working at a commercial house, so he doesn’t openly complain about it. This time though, it makes him want to throw stuff against a wall. He just wishes that once in a while, his boss would look at a text beyond the market, beyond the numbers and money.
Simon’s cursor blinks back at him from the screen. It’s dumb, the way he can’t send a simple rejection. Somehow, he feels worse than he’s ever felt about rejecting someone, even though he does it all the time. But this… this feels wrong. The email is too simplistic, too impersonal. W. deserves better for writing something like this.
So, Simon starts over. Again.
11:51
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Manuskript - Allt är falskt – W. Viklund
Dear W.,
Thank you for trusting us with your story. Sadly, after careful consideration, we must inform you that we are not able to move forward with this. Though your style is very beautiful and poetic, something that touches right to the heart, it doesn't quite fit the image of our company.
Simon hesitates for a brief second on whether to leave the email at this after all, or to write more. Nothing is really going to soothe the pain of rejection probably, but for once he wants to encourage someone to not give up and actually mean it. He needs W. to know how truly special this story is, because he can’t bear the thought that he’d be the reason W. would quit writing.
That being said, I was very touched by your story. It felt so real and raw. I truly felt for the characters, and felt like I was right there with them in the moment – it’s been a long time since I’ve read something that touched me in the way that your story did. It’s vulnerable and realistic, and you got the tone just right.
I also loved that it was something queer. I know I would have very much appreciated a story like this when I was younger, rather than have every teenage romance be about a heterosexual couple. Representation is so important, and you do it so well. I urge you not to give up, please. This book will find a home, just not with us.
All the best and good luck with your future endeavors,
Simon Eriksson
He signs it with his name on purpose. This manuscript was too good to be rejected by a nameless entity.
It’s a bit ironic how Simon is pretty much begging W. to not give up on his dream while he is the one crushing it, and he feels bad about it. Simon wishes there was more he could do, to help W. somehow. Refer him to another publisher, one who would see what he sees but Simon doesn’t have those kinds of connections.
With a heavy heart and even heavier conscience, he sends the email.
***
Simon is neck-deep in correcting a manuscript (yet another romance about a slightly dubious relationship and a miscommunication plot, but hey, who is he to judge) when a new email comes in. He usually doesn’t bother to check his inbox while working on something like this, preferring to keep his focus in one place, but he’s been waiting to hear back from an American publisher about a manuscript , so he opens it anyways.
But when he opens the tab, it’s not a manuscript that he finds in his inbox. Instead, there’s a new message from W., sent to the submissions account.
Simon knows he shouldn’t read it – he has a manuscript to finish, and besides, authors aren’t supposed to correspond about the decision. Not that W. is aware of this, because Simon never told him, but that doesn’t mean that Simon should look at it.
He has a job to do, and soothing the hurt feelings of rejected authors isn’t part of that.
But Simon is curious about what W. has to say. Would it be an email cussing him out? Begging him to reconsider? It doesn’t really matter, actually, because Simon would take anything over reading one more line of that manuscript.
14:17
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Manuskript – Allt är falskt – W. Viklund
Dear Simon (I hope it’s okay I call you that, Mr. Eriksson sounds too formal),
Thank you for your response.
I will say, I was quite surprised to find such kind words in a rejection email. Most publishers just send an impersonal rejection that's no longer than two lines, or they simply don't respond at all. So thank you for that specifically, I'm glad to hear that my story has touched at least one person. That's every author's dream, right? Or that's what they're supposed to say I guess, but still, it means a lot. I really appreciate that, and mostly, that you told me about it. Even though it hurts, as far as rejections go, this one wasn’t all that bad.
I completely get what you mean though. I also would have loved a story like this when I was younger. I still don’t know whether I’m writing it for my younger self, who I think needed to have something like this, a story in which this kind of love works, or for the kids now who need this, to know it’s okay to be something other than straight. Maybe it’s a bit of both.
Sorry for rambling. I just truly never expected to hear back and I don’t know what the proper etiquette is here.
A soft smile spreads on Simon’s face. He’s never had an author respond like this; if they even reply at all, which they usually don’t, it’s nothing more than a “thank you for your time”, something simply polite. Not that W. isn’t being polite, but he’s also just so nice about it. If the rejection hurt him, he’s not letting it on. Simon finds it kind of sweet, really. At the very least it makes for a nice change, an interesting development.
Can I ask though, do you have any feedback you'd be willing to share? It's okay if you don't, but if there's any way you think my story can improve, I'd love to hear it.
All best,
W.
Simon doesn’t take any time to even consider denying W.’s request, of course he can do that. He loved his story too much, and if it will make W. feel better, then Simon is more than happy to comply. And maybe, selfishly, he hopes will lessen the guilt he still feels for rejecting him.
Simon spends the rest of his afternoon writing up his feedback for W., going back to the notes he wrote down time and time again, just to make sure he gets everything in there. He gives him notes to improve on – which choices he thought a bit weird or didn’t quite get yet, which scenes could be fleshed out or maybe need to be taken in. All the while he also peppers in countless comments, letting W. know which lines touched him specifically, which moments had him giggling or made him want to throw the manuscript against the wall in the best way possible. He can’t stop praising that tender moment between the two boys in the locker room after those pictures had been hung up for everyone to see, but he does criticize the moment the school decides to take everyone’s phone away.
It's a bit pointless, he writes in the report. Julian is already grounded, and it just makes it seem like you’re trying to create some barrier between them just for the sake of drama. Besides, I have to wonder… they’re teenagers, don’t they have laptops?
Simon has never taken this much time out of his day to write feedback. Maybe that’s also because when he gives feedback, he’ll have made comments in the margins of the manuscript, but that isn’t the case here. Still, Simon is aware of the fact that he spends significantly more time on W.’s manuscript, an author that he isn’t even going to publish, than he has given any actual author of theirs. He almost feels bad about it, because it isn’t what he’s supposed to be doing. But he feels less bad about it than he did about rejecting W. in the first place, so he keeps going until the report is 4 pages long and the sun has already started to set.
16:47
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Manuskript – Allt är falskt – W. Viklund
Dear W.,
Of course, I’d be more than happy to give you some feedback. Please find attached my reader’s report, I hope you find it useful.
All best,
Simon
Ps. if you want to reply, feel free to reply to the address cc'd. It makes it easier to talk (if that’s something you’d want; if you have any questions about the feedback or something)
Simon closes off his laptop for the day, packs up and goes home, hoping that now that everything is done and said, he can move on from the manuscript that may or may not have changed his life.
***
When Simon sent the email last night, he was sure that he would never hear from W. again. After all, the guy would have no reason to really keep talking to Simon. But when Simon opens his laptop the next morning, there’s a new message from W. in his own inbox this time. Strangely, it has Simon smiling immediately – something that doesn’t happen often this early in the morning, and he hasn’t even had his first cup of coffee yet.
3:44
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Thank you
Dear Simon,
Wow. I… I don’t know what to say. I truly didn’t expect you to answer, honestly, let alone receive this much feedback. I can’t thank you enough for that.
I stayed up all night reading it and I’m only writing this now, and I’m maybe a bit exhausted and maybe I’m not making this make much sense, but I’m also just still trying to wrap my head around your words. You told me you liked it, but I hadn’t really thought you liked it a 4-page-report kind of much.
I know it’s weird to say, but I truly can’t stop smiling at what you wrote. I’m especially glad you like the sex scene so much – I was afraid it wouldn’t fit, but I think it’s important to have more realistic portrayals of sex in media, especially for queer teenagers, and I was happy to see you agreed with that.
And thank you for your pointers too, I’m excited to get back to it based on your feedback, it truly is incredible. Maybe you do have a point about the phones.
Anyways, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about this whole publishing thing is that it’s a hard world out there, so you taking your time to give me all of this, and your kind words about my story, that means everything to me. It’s good to know there’s people who care.
Again, thank you so much. If I do manage to get this published somehow, I’ll be sure to include you in the acknowledgements.
All best,
W.
Simon reads W.’s message over and over again, feeling a strange mixture of relief about the fact that W. doesn’t hate him (Simon doesn’t know why he cares), and joy that W. liked his feedback, that he did something good. W. is just so grateful and appreciative, even though he got rejected.
Simon pictures W. in his room, at night, pouring over Simon’s feedback just like Simon poured over his manuscript, typing up this email by the glow of a singular lamp, and it tugs at his heart.
9:02
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Dear W.,
I’m glad to hear my feedback was useful. I haven’t really been working here for that long and I’m still learning, and I would have totally understood if it was too much, but I’m glad it wasn’t. I actually had a good time writing that feedback so don’t worry about it! I got to revisit all my favorite passages!
I do truly think your book is worth publishing, just not by us. We won’t be able to do it justice, and it deserves a home that can do that. Be sure to send a heads-up though when it gets picked up!! I’ll be the first in line to buy it for myself (and my friends and my mom and everyone really).
I know I can’t be of much help otherwise in terms of making this easier. I wish I could be, cause it is hard, you’re right about that.
Anyways, I can’t make it easier, but I do have this picture of my cat… maybe that will cheer you up?
You got this. You’re a phenomenal writer and I’m so excited to see what you’ll do.
All best,
Simon
He attaches a picture of Luna to the message, one of his favorite pictures of her. Luna had found a little strip of sunlight to fall asleep in, the sun painting her usually black fur just the tiniest bit golden. Simon hopes the photo will make W. feel a little bit better, at least. After all, Simon has yet to meet anyone who doesn’t cheer up at seeing a cat, and Luna truly is the best cat of all.
W. replies around noon. Simon sees the email come in right as his coworkers start making their way to the kitchen for lunch.
His eyes stay locked on the screen while he decides whether he’s going to follow his coworkers, or just quickly take one second to read what W. has to say. He wouldn’t even need to reply immediately, he can just read it and leave it for a bit.
“Simon? Are you coming to lunch?” Ananda, one of his direct coworkers, calls out. Simon’s eyes scan the first line. He sees the exclamation points, multiple of them, and his excitement at what W. has to say wins.
“One second!” he replies quickly, then turns around and flashes her a sure smile. “You guys go ahead, I’ll be right there.”
12:04
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Oh my god she’s (he’s?) adorable!! What is her name? How old is she? How did you get her? Please tell me everything I love her already (if you want to, of course)
Simon, once again, writes back immediately – once he gets the chance to talk about Luna, he simply can’t stop. And he loves sharing the joy of her with anyone who will listen, which W. seems to be more than willing to do.
12:06
From:[email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Dear W.,
Of course I want to! Luna is my world, if I ever stop talking about how much I love her, there’s something seriously wrong with me. Because she’s so adorable and snuggly and truly my best friend. Maybe even my soulmate – you know how people believe that they were meant to find their partner? Well, I have that with Luna.
I found her as a stray while running errands one day. It was like… I was just going to the shops, you know? I just needed some dinner, that was all. But then there she was, tiny and cold and alone in a box. Well, probably not that cold because it was summer and all, but she was tiny and shivering but walked up to me and rubbed my legs and I sat there for what? 10 minutes just petting her. And then when I tried walking away, because I did, she followed me. I didn’t even think twice about taking her home, I just did. And I put an advert out, asking if anyone lost a kitten, but no one responded, so she’s mine now. No idea how old she is though, because I don’t actually know when she was born, but the vet gave me an estimate when I took her in for her shots. So I think she’s about 4 now? Still has all the energy of a kitten though.
Still not sure if the landlord is just pretending she doesn’t exist or if he’s just really that oblivious lol
– Simon
12:09
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
I suppose you’re not allowed to have pets at your apartment then?
12:12
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Technically not, no. But she’s really good at hiding under the bed and not making a single noise, and when she was younger I would just put her under my shirt. Wait, I actually have a picture of this.
Simon looks for the zoomed-in picture of Luna’s tiny, baby face just peeking out over the collar of his purple sweatshirt, and sends it.
Luna couldn’t have come into Simon’s life at a better time. He had just moved into his own apartment, living alone for the first time. No roommates, no family to lightheartedly complain about, and all the privacy in the world. But he was homesick. He missed his mom and even his sister, and he missed his friends back in Bjärstad and he just felt so lonely. He’d always thought that getting out of Bjärstad was the best thing he could ever do, but he hadn’t expected it to be so lonely.
To say it had almost killed him might have been an overstatement, but he hadn’t been doing well and definitely hadn’t been taking care of himself when he found Luna on that one fateful summer day. She saved his life. Literally. Simon doesn’t know what he’d do without her. He doesn’t tell W. that, of course, there’s no reason for him to know.
The first few months, whenever his landlord would come by, Simon would simply hide Luna in his shirt until she grew too big for that. Now she hides under the bed with her favorite toy and her favorite food until the landlord is gone. Somehow, she just knows she can’t come out until he’s gone, and so far the landlord hasn’t said anything about it.
12:14
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Oh my god, that is the absolute cutest picture I have ever seen. I love it when their ears are bigger than their head! Do you have more pictures of her??
Simon is of course only all too happy to oblige, sending W. some of his favorites in his camera roll.
12:18
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Here you go! Do you have any pets?
There’s a brief moment of hesitation before he sends the message. But he can’t help it; he’s curious.
12:19
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
No. I wish I had though, I’d love a cat too. But I don’t really have time for it.
12:20
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Work keeping you busy?
12:21
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Something like that.
12:22
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
What is it you do then, that keeps you so busy?
It takes a bit of W. to respond to that one, and Simon almost gets up to take lunch with his coworkers anyways when the new message comes in.
12:27
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Just government work. Not that interesting, lol.
It’s a vague and non-committal answer, but Simon doesn’t think too much about it. He gets the slight feeling that W. doesn’t want to talk about it, so he doesn’t push it.
12:28
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Got it, change of subject then. Did you have any pets growing up?
This seems to get W. talkative again.
12:28
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
I didn’t, mom wouldn’t let me, but we had a bunch of horses. Does that count?
And huh, that sure is a bit of interesting information. It must mean he grew up rich, or at least wealthy. The only people Simon knew to have horses were the rich kids at Hillerska, where he went to school in Bjärstad, and from what his sister told him horses are not cheap to maintain. So if he had a horse, or even a bunch of them? Whoever W. is, he probably has a lot of money. Loaded even.
12:29
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
That definitely counts! At least, if you cared for them?
I’d love to hear more about them!
Simon doesn’t know why he keeps talking to W., or why he can’t seem to stop. He should probably cut it off. This isn't very professional, but it’s just so easy. And, Simon has to admit, kind of fun. W. tells him about his horses and how he used to do cross-country, and Simon sends him more pictures of Luna.
By 1 pm, when his coworkers return from lunch, Simon is still talking to Wille and he hasn’t even opened his sandwich yet.
12:59
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Fuck how is it this late already? I completely missed lunch.
Hate eating behind my desk
13:01
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Oh I’m sorry, was I too distracting? Genuinely didn’t mean to, if you want I can leave you alone so you can have lunch?
13:02
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Nah, you were just distracting enough. And I don’t mind it, I like talking to you. You’re cool. Actually, if we keep talking this might end up being one of the best lunches of my life (in terms of company, not food. Grocery store sandwiches just … aren’t it lol.)
13:03
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Honestly that’s on you for getting grocery store sandwiches. They’re the worst. Though even if I had them they still wouldn’t be the worst lunch I ever had. That’d be the time I had nothing
13:04
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Oooh do I sense a story time coming? I love some good entertainment while having my lunch
Simon takes a small bite of his sandwich, ignoring the pointed looks his coworkers give him for eating it behind his desk. He shrugs them off and just mouths that he’s busy, then turns back to the screen. A man’s gotta eat, after all.
13:06
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
I’m afraid it’s not that interesting of a story, actually. It’s just… me and my brother were having lunch with some of my parents’ friends, and they had prepared it but because it wasn’t prepared right, neither of us was allowed to have any of it. But it’s okay, cause he drove us straight to McDonald’s afterwards where I had the best cheeseburger of my entire life. Or maybe that’s just because I was hungry, who knows
13:08
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
Damn, that sucks. Though I think the cheeseburger should have totally made up for it, so it couldn’t have been that bad right?
13:09
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
No, I guess you’re right. So what’s the worst meal you’ve ever had?
It surprises Simon how easy it is to talk to W. For the rest of the day, W. tells him more stories, and Simon has to stifle his laughter because of them. It turns out that W. has a very dry sense of humor, the exact kind of humor that Simon loves. Who would have thought that someone who could write such beautiful prose could also be so incredibly funny? With every story, with every joke told, Simon wants to just learn more and more about him.
Usually, the ding of the new email notification has him on edge, but today he almost looks forward to hearing it again and again. Every incoming message could be from W., after all.
The last hour of his day, something that normally moves painfully slow, passes by too fast for his liking today. His message thread with W. is already endlessly long, and he’s sad when it’s 5 pm, and he has to go home.
Simon logs off with a weird kind of heaviness in his chest. Talking to W. has absolutely been the highlight of his day, and he doesn’t want to stop doing it, but there’s no way he’s logging onto his work email on his phone. That doesn’t quite seem worth it for this man he’s only really talked to for a day, no matter how sad the prospect of not getting to talk to him for hours makes him.
Secretly, he’s also scared that if they stop now, they’ll stop talking forever. That the gap in the conversation will make it hard to pick things up again. But maybe that’s for the best, Simon thinks as he stuffs his papers into his bag. Talking to W. has been fun, for sure, but it was far from professional. He’s not supposed to spend time on authors they’re not going to publish, even though they haven’t talked about his book all day, but that really just makes it more unprofessional. Plus, it was really distracting (though he didn’t mind it one bit.)
Maybe it’s good that this was just a one-time thing.
But when Simon logs on the next morning, all his worries about never talking to W. disappear in an instant. There’s a new message, again sent at night. If it hadn’t been for the fact that they talked all throughout the day yesterday, Simon would have thought W. lived in a completely different country.
The message, the realization that they’re not going to stop talking, makes Simon inexplicably happy, as if he’s a child who just learned that he’s going to a theme park and finally is tall enough to get on the rollercoaster. They talk again for pretty much the whole day, but this time it’s not about anything significant; they just share memes back and forth, funny cat videos that W. keeps finding online, but still Simon doesn’t stop smiling for the whole day.
***
The next day, W. doesn’t reach out to him until 3 pm. There’s no new message in his inbox when he opens it that morning and nothing during lunch either, not even a reply to the message Simon sent him that morning, meaning that now he has to actually spend it with his coworkers, which is slightly disappointing. He liked talking to W. the last couple of days, and had even been looking forward to a repeat of it.
And then he cringes at himself for finding it disappointing in the first place, but he truly feels like there’s some connection between him and W., like he knows him already even though they’d barely scratched the surface of getting to know each other. But Simon knows he’s a night owl, because he sends emails at the ungodly hours of 2 and 3 am when he should be fast asleep. Simon knows that he prefers cats over dogs, that he has a terrible taste in movies because he was slightly too excited to see that new romcom that just came out – that Simon has only heard awful things about – and that he has a brother (at some point yesterday, W. mentioned an unfortunate event involving some geese and his brother that left him traumatized for life).
When he finally does get a message, he almost jumps up with joy when he sees it come in (he doesn’t, because then he is bound to get some weird looks from his coworkers). Still, he can’t hide the grin that’s made its way onto his face.
The email contains a question W. had about one of the last scenes – everything has gone to shit, the school is about to close and on top of that Finn and Julian have split up after the pressure of the leaked photos (that had found their way online too, leading to Julian being relentlessly bullied both off- and online, but not Finn).
Simon absolutely loved the scene. It was beautiful and heart-breaking at the same time, made only more so by the description of the atmosphere: the rising sun coloring the sky orange as the pair makes their way to the lake to spend one final morning together after the school’s last blow out party. After this, they’ll go their separate ways, and they both know it, and it just makes the scene so much more meaningful. It also has one of his favorite pieces of dialogue ever:
“I don’t understand.” Finn can barely hear himself, but he’s afraid that if he speaks up louder, his voice will break. Or worse, that whatever is happening now, whatever this moment is, ends. He wants to freeze time, wants the world to stop spinning on its axis so they can stay like this forever. Finn watches as water drips from Julian’s black curls, onto his face, down his cheek like a sweet-watered tear. “I thought it would be us.”
Julian takes a heavy, loaded breath, and if it wasn’t for the dampness of his curls and the water trickling down from them, Finn would have almost thought Julian was crying too. “It has been us. And when it was us, it was good.”
W. now seems to be worried that it doesn’t quite work. Isn’t Finn too desperate? Isn’t it weird that he’s begging Julian like this, when it’s his fault they can’t be together? Isn’t he asking too much of Julian?
15:33
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Some more advice?
I think it works. Sure, he’s acting a bit selfish, but he’s a selfish character, isn’t he? I don’t think that’s a bad thing. But maybe you can emphasize a bit more that Finn realizes he has to let go of Julian here, because that letting go is what eventually drives them back together; it shows Finn’s character growth. If you can do that, which I’m sure you can, it will be absolutely perfect.
For the rest of the day, W. only sporadically sends him short emails, asking him to elaborate on his feedback, or to ask his opinion on a certain piece of dialogue. Simon thinks he must be writing – that that’s why he’s sending all these questions now.
And Simon diligently answers every single one W. throws at him, soothes his mind while helping him to get the pacing of certain scenes just right. Not only does Simon not mind doing it, he enjoys it. It makes him feel useful. So much of his job is the meaningless part of publishing, the tasks that no one else wants to do but that have to be done anyways. It’s boring, and tedious, checking e-books and audiobooks and doing admin. The actual editing and acquisition process is done by his coworkers – at best, he can give his opinion on manuscripts that have come in, or do line-editing. So helping W. now, thinking about this story with him? Yeah, that makes him feel incredible. It’s what he had hoped his actual job would be when he applied. So every time W. reaches out, Simon is hit with an overwhelming sense of joy – more so than his job could provide.
Simon keeps trying to picture W. writing, hunched over his desk – probably a wooden desk with a wooden chair that’s definitely not good for his back but what every writer seems to love – typing and retyping whole sentences and paragraphs, completely lost in his own world.
There’s only one problem: Simon has no idea what W. looks like. He doesn’t know whether he has brown or blond hair, the width of his shoulders, if he’s muscular or lanky or something in between. Simon wonders what he would see if he looks up at him (or down at him? How tall would W. be? Simon’s relatively short, so there’s a good chance W. would be the one looking down). His imagination fails him though – the pair of eyes staring back at him changes color every second, from green to blue to gray, with flecks of gold and then without. He sees a dimple that’s gone the next moment, freckles that fade and appear again.
By the time Simon is done working, having crossed off a lot of tasks on his to-do list now that he was actually able to focus, and starts to pack up for the day, he gets another email from W. right as he is about to shut off his computer. This time, it’s a question about a character choice.
Simon types up his answer quickly, but then stalls. His cursor hovers over the send button, and somehow, he can’t bring himself to click on it quite yet.
It’s not the question, or that he thinks his answer isn’t good enough. Simon feels so familiar with Finn and Julian already that he finds it easy enough to answer. That’s not the problem.
Once he hits send and shuts down his computer, he will lose all access to W. again. Something in him tells him that W. isn’t quite done writing for the day, and he hates the thought that W. will keep coming to him with problems that he wants to talk through only to be met with a wall of silence until 9 am the next day. He hates the thought of leaving him hanging like that.
17:02
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Some more advice?
No, I don’t think Louis was superfluous – he was necessary for the whole drug framing thing, right? That’s why Julian doesn’t go to the police? But maybe you’re feeling that way because he doesn’t get much of a story in the third act of the book? I was kind of wondering what happened to him… speaking of characters I’m wondering about, what happened to that horse of Julian’s sister? Didn’t the asshole cousin buy that one for her? Where is he now?
By the way, and sorry if this is weird, but do you have another way I can contact you? Mailing like this has been fun – Simon almost writes that it was the highlight of his day, but thinks that that’s maybe too much – but I’m about to log off and go home for the night and won’t be able to answer you until tomorrow morning, if you have any more questions. Do you have a phone number I can contact you on? It’s okay if you don’t want to give it to me because I’m a stranger and all but I thought… that way I can keep helping you.
Oh, and while we’re at the ‘asking forward questions’… what’s your name? I’ve just been calling you W. in my head and if you want me to keep calling that, that’s fine but I was just … I don’t know, I was just wondering.
Let me know!
– Simon
Simon tells himself that the only reason he asks for W.’s number is so he can keep helping him outside of office hours, and definitely not so he doesn’t have to stop talking to him until tomorrow morning.
Minutes that stretch into an eternity pass with no answer. Rather than staring at his inbox waiting on W.’s reply, Simon makes himself get up and carries his coffee mug to the kitchen. There, he decides to pass time by emptying the dishwasher, by shutting down the coffee machine (a 10-step process that no one really wants to do so it’s always left to him). By the time he gets back to his computer, there’s still no answer.
Dread pools in the pit of his stomach, forming an uncomfortable knot that makes it hard for him to sit still on his desk chair.
He hits refresh on his inbox again, thinking, hoping, that maybe it will magically appear that way, that it just hasn’t caught up yet. But when his inbox is reloaded, there’s still nothing from W.
A weird feeling sits in his chest. He shouldn’t have asked for his phone number. In hindsight, it definitely was too forward. W. had given no indication that he would even be open to this being anything more than a professional relationship, and exchanging phone numbers definitely made that a possibility. What had Simon been thinking?
Well, Simon knows exactly what he’d been thinking. He’d been thinking that he’d love to get to know W. better, even better than he already has. Right now, he’s just some faceless person, a stranger despite how much he already knows about him. But then again, does he really know him? He doesn’t even know his name, or his favorite color. But that’s the whole thing – he wants to know every single detail about him, what kind of person could write so beautifully and be so funny at the same time. But also, simply, because he wants to know who W. is.
Then, right as he really can’t procrastinate going home for any longer, his own stomach grumbling at the lack of food and realizing that Luna was probably also waiting on her dinner, a new email appears in his inbox.
He quickly reads through the first few lines, which are only W. once again thanking him for his feedback, when his eye catches on the answer to his question.
17:36
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Thank you
I’m sad to say that I don’t have a phone number I can give you. I hope you understand that, and that you don’t hold it against me. However, I would really like to keep talking to you. And, hoping that this isn’t me being too forward, not only for your feedback and brilliant insights, but also to just talk. I would love to get to know you better, you seem like a nice person. Do you have Discord by any chance? You can add me on there if you’d like. I’m justwille on there.
As for your second question: you can call me Wille. (Just Wille ;) )
Simon stares at the name. Wille. He whispers the name softly, then out loud because everyone else has gone home anyways, and he smiles. Simon likes the sound of it, the way it sits in his mouth. It makes W., Wille, even more real to him, making Simon feel like he’s an actual person, and Simon likes that too.
***
Simon adds Wille on Discord the minute he gets home, right after feeding Luna. He doesn’t even get started on his own dinner, even though his stomach is loudly protesting. That can wait; this is more important.
They’ve been talking so much that Simon’s not even surprised when Wille accepts his friend request and sends him a message almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for it.
JustWille: Okay so, I was wondering if you could help me with another scene because I just can’t figure it out and you’ve been really helpful so far
Simme.eriksson: I can but… you’ve been writing all day. Maybe that’s why it’s tough. Shouldn’t you take a break? It’s not gonna do your writing any good if you’re exhausted. Who knows, if you tackle it with renewed energy tomorrow you might get it
JustWille: can’t write tomorrow (busy day and all that) but… maybe you’re right. Sorry to bother you then haha. I hope you have a good night in that case.
Simme.eriksson: It’s fine! We can keep talking, just… maybe not about writing?
He almost writes that he’d love to get to know Wille better too, just like Wille confessed earlier, but decides to leave that out. It feels too much all of a sudden, now that he’s had some time to think.
JustWille: I don’t know what else to talk about it though. Writing is like… all I know. Or the only thing I can talk about.
Simme.eriksson: we talked plenty yesterday and the day before. What changed?
Wille doesn't say anything for a minute. Then,
JustWille: True. I don’t know what happened then though, I’m not usually that great at talking online. I find things much easier in person.
JustWille: What do you suggest we talk about then?
Simme.eriksson: Well… how about the basics? We’ve been talking so much and still feel like I barely know anything about you.
JustWille: Basics… I can do basics. What do you want to know?
Simme.eriksson: Okay, I know about your worst lunch. I know that you didn’t have pets growing up but had… a bunch of horses? And I have so many questions about that, because dude, who has a bunch of horses? But not now. I know that you once got chased by a goose, which was hilarious. And I know that you like to party, from what you’ve told me. But what is your favorite color? Your favorite food? How old are you? What did you go to college for, or are you still in college? Do you play an instrument? Sports? What music do you listen to, and what books do you read? (NOT want to write. read)
JustWille: Those are a lot of questions, Simon. What are you, CIA? Secret service? This is a bit sus… 👀
Simme.eriksson: Nah, I’m just a guy really interested in getting to know you. Why’re you so sus, got anything to hide?
JustWille: Not much more than the usual person, though to be fair no one’s actually taken that much of an interest in me. But I’ll try my best to answer them all. My favorite color is yellow, or green, just, I like bright colors. Not to wear, but to see. I don’t really have a favorite food, actually, but I like to make easy stuff for myself. Less time-consuming. I did International Relations, which really isn’t all that interesting either but I’m glad to be done with it, I’m 26 and I like pop music. I used to play piano, and I also used to ride horses (though you probably guessed that already) but nowadays I just run. I also briefly did rowing in high school. And I’ll read anything, but right now I’m reading Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan for the millionth time because that changed my life.
JustWille: Is that enough for you?
Simme.eriksson: okay truth be told those were just like, questions to let you know that I want to get to know you but yes, Wille, that’s more than enough. But hey, I’m 26 too! And fun fact: I also briefly rowed in high school, but only for three, maybe four months. Wasn’t really my thing lol
JustWille: Yeah, it wasn’t for me either. I just did it because my brother used to do it and it was what was expected. But what about you?
Simme.eriksson: Okay well, my favorite color is purple. But specifically the kind of purple when the sun is setting and the whole sky looks like a painting, when it’s all interlaced with oranges and pinks and blues. I play piano and guitar, both self-taught, and I did choir in high school. Now that I actually liked. Oh, and my favorite food is my mom’s arepas and pasta with ketchup
JustWille: You put ketchup on your pasta??????
***
JustWille: Did you ever think about taking up singing professionally?
Simme.eriksson: Very, briefly, once, but I don’t think it’s for me.
It’s 2 am, and Simon is curled up under the covers with Luna fast asleep next to him. He’s absentmindedly stroking her fur with one hand, chatting to Wille with the other. They’ve been talking all night, Simon only putting the phone down occasionally to stir his pasta, or brush his teeth. The rational part of him keeps telling him that he should try and sleep, but he doesn’t want to. Wille doesn’t seem to want to either, to be fair, because there have been multiple messages where one or the other says they should probably go to bed now – and then they just move on.
There hasn’t been a singular lul in their conversation since they started, and by now it doesn’t even surprise Simon anymore. Everything’s just so easy with Wille, like Simon has known him his whole life. So easy, that he doesn’t even mind sharing the deeper parts of himself.
JustWille: Why not? If it’s something you enjoy doing, and if you’re good at it.
Simme.eriksson: I tried. Well, I tried to do so by making videos and posting them online while I was in college, just to see if it would take off, but it’s a hard industry to get into, and… I don’t know, I’m happy with my job and my life now. I always wanted to do something with text, and language, and this is actually perfect for it. Plus, it’s more stable than trying to build a music career.
Simon’s not poor – not by a long shot. His job is steady and pays well, but not enough to take a risk on his career. And unlike most people, he doesn’t have his mother to fall back on. She supported him and his sister his whole life, worked endless night shifts to provide them with a roof above their heads and food, and he doesn’t want to burden her like that anymore.
JustWille: That makes sense.
For the first time in hours, there’s a short pause. Simon expects Wille to say more, but he stays quiet.
He has broached the subject of Wille’s job only one time before, that first time when Wille gave him that first, non-committal ‘government’ answer. He hadn’t felt the urge to bring it up since, but now curiosity sparks again.
Simme.eriksson: Do you get to do what you want?
Is Wille happy with his job, like Simon is?
JustWille: No. Not really. In fact, I kind of really dislike my job, but I also don’t have a choice. It’s what I have to do.
JustWille: It’s why I write, I guess. To at least do something that I like to do.
Huh. That’s an answer he didn’t expect. Simon knows there’s people who dislike their job, and that he’s privileged enough to do something he actually likes, but he always thought that if people really hated their job they would just… leave. Simon firmly believes that you should always at least have a bit of passion for your job – even if that passion comes from the money flowing into your account. Somehow, he has the feeling that isn’t the case here.
Simme.eriksson: Why don’t you quit? If you hate it so much?
JustWille: I can’t. It’s just not possible.
JustWille: … not to be rude, but… can we talk about something else?
Simon feels a pang of guilt. Of course Wille wouldn’t want to talk about what he does if he’s stuck doing something he doesn’t like. Simon chides himself for even bringing it up. Once again, this is none of his business, but it did get Wille down.
Simme.eriksson: Of course! I’m sorry to have brought it up. What do you want to talk about instead? And don’t say writing. We can do that tomorrow 😉
Simon doesn’t quite know how he ended up here, losing some much needed sleep because of a stranger. But every text has him smiling, because Wille is funny, and kind, and Simon doesn’t want to stop. Definitely not tonight, even though he probably should – he has work tomorrow –, but also not ever. He didn’t expect to make a friend from a random manuscript he picked up on a random Wednesday, and he doesn’t even know for sure if whatever this is qualifies as friends. But if it doesn’t yet… then he sure hopes it will be.
They keep on talking about everything and nothing until 3 am, until Simon physically can’t keep his eyes open any longer and he has to tell Wille good night or else he’ll just fall asleep mid-text. Wille promises him that’s okay, that he’ll still be here tomorrow to talk to, that it’s not suddenly going to stop. With the promise of tomorrow (and hopefully more tomorrows after) Simon falls asleep.