From One Writer to Another

     A Pink Lenny approached and picked up one of the books from my table, and I straightened up, armed with my pen.

     “You’re Andler Sneakett?” the Lenny asked, pointing their wing to my name on the cover.

     “Yes,” I said, managing to find my voice. “It’s my first novel. But…but I’ve written a few stories, for the Neopian Times. Every now and then. Um…I can sign that book for you, if you want?” Inwardly I wondered if I sounded desperate, or presumptuous, or…

     The Lenny turned the book over and scanned the summary on the back.

     “Oh, hmm, it sounds interesting, but it’s not what I’m looking for,” they said, their brow furrowing as they returned the book to me. “Thank you though.”

     I watched the Pink Lenny as they strode away, sinking into my seat. My watch told me it was already half past two in the afternoon; I would have to leave the table at three, and hope that I could sell more books tomorrow.

     But could I?

     A few shoppers did in fact buy my book and get it signed, though I could have sworn I overheard one of them mention reselling the autographed book for a higher price. Others just came to tell me that they saw my name in the Neopian Times and asked me for tips on getting published.

     Most of them glanced at my books, picked one up to read the summary, and then put it back down before moving on. I sighed and rearranged my posture as though that would attract more readers. While watching Neopians milling about among the bookshelves, I wondered if I would sound extremely desperate if I shouted, “Hi, please check out my first novel!” I don’t think I ever saw a writer do that at their book launch.

     Or, I thought with dread, the readers who had picked up my book didn’t like it, and now they were telling everyone they met not to buy it, it’s clearly a waste of Neopoints –

     My thoughts ground to a careening, screeching halt when I saw a Disco Kacheek stop in front of my table. I bit back a scream – I nearly screamed this Kacheek’s name out loud. Instead, my thoughts resumed their loud clatter through my brain as I steadied my breathing.

     I tried to observe the Kacheek without creepily staring at him. I knew him – Klaudet, the writer of The Lord of the Things and The Falchion of Time. He lived in Roo Island and was known for going the extra mile to make his stories extremely realistic. A few weeks ago he released his new novel, The Scythe of Selene, sequel to Falchion – with no less than a foreword from the acclaimed international hero, Sir Rohane of Meridell.

     Imagine that. Even real heroes were reading Klaudet’s work. My eyes flicked toward the books and my stomach seemed to drop all the way to the floor when I saw him pick up a copy and scan the summary.

     I braced myself for the inevitable “put it down and walk away” routine I had tried to get used to for the past few hours. It did not happen.

     “So, this is your first novel?” Klaudet suddenly asked. He flashed a bright smile. “Ah, this takes me back to the very first The Lord of the Things book…”

     “The Fellowship of the Knickknack,” I said automatically. Then I gasped. “Ah, I mean…that was your first book…I read it…”

     “You did? What did you think of it?” The Disco Kacheek leaned more closely, and while I wanted my personal space back, I didn’t think it was polite to visibly avoid a famous author even if he was already in my space.

     “I…I finished it in one day.” It was true. I couldn’t stop reading The Fellowship of the Knickknack and even risked food stains propping it up on the dining table. Loisse, my roommate, had warned me over and over about the dangers of reading while eating, but I didn’t listen to her. “Actually…there’s this one scene in my book…that references The Fellowship of the Knickknack, it’s the part where the narrator has to sail to Krawk Island and – “

     Klaudet shook his head vigorously. “Whoa, whoa, no spoilers!” He thrust the book he had been holding (Klaudet, the Klaudet, didn’t do the “put it down and walk away” routine! He was still holding my book!) toward me, opening it to the title page and beaming. “Here. Sign my book, and let’s talk after I’ve finished it, okay?“

     “Y-You want…a copy of my book?” I spluttered as I clicked my pen with a shaking hand.

     “Why not? It sounds interesting!” Klaudet’s brow furrowed. “For someone who’s just released their first novel, no offence, I thought you’d be more excited. I know I was when I launched The Fellowship of the Knickknack.”

     I grimaced and couldn’t help but answer, “I thought so, too.” I made a faint noise of disapproval at my crooked signature.

     “So, why the long face?”

     The stacks of books on my table suddenly seemed taller, like they were mocking me.

     “I thought more Neopians would be interested in my book,” I said bleakly, folding my arms on the table and resting my chin on them, my pen between my fingers. “I’ve written for the Neopian Times a bit, but this feels worse than not getting any fan mail or any comments from folks who read the Times.” Gesturing around at my novels, I added, “I barely made any sales today. I don’t even know how many of them will actually read my books.”

     Once the words were out of my mouth, I knew I should have just shut up, even though that was probably more humiliating in front of a famous author. I couldn’t even read the sort of expression on Klaudet’s face. Was it pity? Sympathy? Condescension?

     Then he smiled wistfully and leaned against my table.

     “When I released Knickknack, not a lot of Neopians came to my table to check it out,” Klaudet admitted, shrugging.

     It was as if the entirety of Neopia stopped turning and ground to a halt. My jaw dropped, and I could have sworn Klaudet stifled a laugh at how I looked.

     “Wh…what?”

     “I was excited, and then I sold what, less than ten books?” The Kacheek threw up his hands and chuckled. “My editor was in shock! It took several days for the book to gain traction, and about a month for it to hit the bestseller list. I was telling my editor, ‘All those weeks in cooking classes just to be able to write my novel, for a handful of sales?’ I was so close to chucking the sequel draft into the trash!” He cleared his throat and straightened up. “Andler, right? Just because your work isn’t flying off the shelves, or you’re not getting any feedback on it, doesn’t mean your writing’s no good or that no one reads it. Besides, you only released I Inherited a Secret Underground Library now. Over the next few days, and weeks, and months, you’re going to sell more copies. Readers are going to spread the word. And before you know it, you’ll get the fan mail you’ve been waiting for!”

     I didn’t believe it could happen to me, even if it happened to Klaudet. After all, he was Klaudet, one of the frequent faces on the bestseller lists.

     But, I considered, before he became Klaudet, bestselling author of The Lord of the Things, The Falchion of Time and The Scythe of Selene, he was…just Klaudet. I don’t think he was born a bestselling author.

     Which meant…once upon a time, he was like me.

     “You really think so?” I asked tentatively.

     Klaudet nodded. “Give it time. You’re just getting started.” He flipped through the pages of my book to the prologue. “Tell you what, I’ll start reading this and let you know what I think.”

     I had been hoping for fan mail, but any sort of mail from Klaudet? I didn’t know if I could handle it.

     “Er, um, t-thank you for getting one of my books, but…y-you don’t h-have to…”

     “I thought you wanted comments on your work?”

     “I do!” I exclaimed. “I…uh, this is my first book even though I’ve been writing for the Neopian Times…”

     What had I gotten myself into?

     Well, at least I made another sale just before my time today was up.

     The End.