“You should think carefully before responding, don’t rush to agree or refuse, my mum wants to plan your standalone book, when she makes this offer, don’t see her as my mum, her role now is a publisher’s editor, if she wants to publish your book, she must offer you clear, concrete terms.”
Xie Qian’s words were spot-on, though they lacked a bit of warmth.
For some reason, this made Wen Ying feel more at ease.
Any publisher wanting Wen Ying’s publishing rights should offer her fair terms.
As a newcomer, Wen Ying needed to negotiate how much royalty she’d get.
Would it be a royalty split or a one-time manuscript buyout?
How many copies would the publisher print initially?
How would the manuscript fee be settled?
And the publishing timeline needed coordination with Aige magazine, ensuring Aige’s interests weren’t harmed, arranging serial instalments reasonably to build popularity during the run, and launching the standalone book right after the serial ends, timing and coordination between Aige and the publisher had to be perfect to achieve a win-win-win for the magazine, the book, and Wen Ying!
Xie Qian’s words were clear, thorough, and even questioned Zou Weijun’s sincerity, “Mum, aren’t you facing some trouble at work, if those issues aren’t resolved, planning Wen Ying’s book might just be paving the way for someone else, and without enough clout, you might not have control over how her book is handled, you can’t offer her great terms, she doesn’t have to sign with you.”
Is this really my own son?!
Zou Weijun stared at Xie Qian, wondering if she’d picked up the wrong baby at the hospital.
“Xie Qian!”
Wen Ying knew what Xie Qian meant, but wasn’t this too harsh on Auntie Zou’s pride?
Xie Qian signalled Wen Ying with his eyes to stay calm.
He now seemed like Wen Ying’s agent, fighting for her best deal in front of the publisher.
Zou Weijun laughed, exasperated by her son’s disloyalty, “Alright, no need to goad me, I know how to handle work troubles, don’t worry about me short-changing Wen Ying, Wen Ying, can you give me a month to settle some things, then I’ll discuss publishing terms with you?”
“Auntie Zou…”
Wen Ying hesitated, she’d meant to refuse outright, but Xie Qian had interrupted.
Zou Weijun smiled, “You think I’m helping you? Didn’t you hear Xie Qian, you’re actually helping me, as a newbie in the industry, I planned a bestseller and still got pushed out of the team, do you think I can access top authors at the company, a talented newcomer like you is exactly who I want to discover, though you’re new, your writing already shows a unique style, not mimicking bestselling authors, I’m very optimistic about your potential.”
A fine horse needs a keen eye to spot it.
If Young Idol runs a few more issues, Zou Weijun won’t even get a chance to be that keen eye.
Without Xie Qian’s recommendation, Zou Weijun wouldn’t have noticed Wen Ying in a sea of youth magazines.
Now, she not only noticed but strongly approved of Wen Ying’s style.
Like the Hush, Little Secret series, it sparked huge controversy upon release, then sold explosively, besides marketing, it filled a market gap.
Before Hush, Little Secret, there were similar books, but none used such provocative slogans, as if teen “health education” couldn’t be openly discussed, launched discreetly, serious science books naturally didn’t attract young readers.
Wen Ying was similar.
Her novel wasn’t melodramatic, forcing sorrow, nor was it sharp or cynical.
While telling a story, it brimmed with warm conviction, warming the heart.
In 2005, when post-80s youth pain literature dominated, Wen Ying’s style was refreshingly natural, Zou Weijun believed Young Idol, once published, could fill a market gap like Hush, Little Secret!
Zou Weijun shared her analysis, deeply touching Wen Ying.
It made sense.
Who’d have thought months ago, Zou Weijun was a complete publishing newbie, severely depressed, a failure in marriage with no zest for life?
Now, Zou Weijun’s demeanor was entirely different, not just thanks to therapy or medication, she was actively saving herself!
Wen Ying couldn’t bring herself to refuse, smiling and nodding, “Auntie Zou, I’ll wait a month then, let’s see what terms you can offer to win me over.”
Another month, Aige’s May issue would be out, with Young Idol’s rising popularity, Zou Weijun proposing to publish it then would face less resistance at the publishing house, offering Wen Ying better terms.
With Young Idol’s popularity, any publisher would want it, so Wen Ying had no qualms about accepting Zou Weijun’s favor.
They reached a preliminary agreement, then Zou Weijun remembered something, “If you publish a standalone, will you use your pen name or real name, I recall you won first prize in the New Concept Essay Contest, right, that’s a great promotional hook.”
The two bestselling youth authors dominating the charts came from the New Concept Essay Contest, and beyond them, other first-prize winners were active in literature.
Locally in Rongcheng, there was Song Chan, a youth author whose novel sales were initially flat but got reprinted this year.
The new cover boasted, “Masterpiece by a Seventh New Concept Essay Contest First-Prize Winner.”
Zou Weijun knew this because Song Chan’s book, from initial to reprint, was handled by her publishing department, though by a colleague, not her.
Wen Ying didn’t expect to hear Song Chan’s name from Zou Weijun, casually asking, “How’s her book selling after the reprint?”
“Definitely better than before, the New Concept Essay Contest winner title draws some readers.”
That’s why Zou Weijun asked if Wen Ying would use her real name.
She’d read Song Chan’s book, it lacked originality, yet sales improved post-reprint, showing the contest’s prestige.
But Song Chan’s reprint sales weren’t stellar, her novel relaunched amid Hush, Little Secret’s hot streak, though different genres, both were handled by the same department, and during Hush, Little Secret’s reprint frenzy, Song Chan’s editor was pulled to help Zou Weijun’s team.
In short, Song Chan’s novel, with a new slogan, saw better sales but fell short of expectations, a case of weak quality not matching hype, worsened by Hush, Little Secret’s timing.
Wen Ying didn’t comment, only said she’d think about it.
A pen name had its perks, a real name did too.
If Wen Ying didn’t care for the New Concept halo, a pen name was safest, she felt secure behind a pseudonym!
“Let me think about it.”
