BESTSELLERS & BEST FRIENDS
My book publishing blog, with murder mysteries woven through it.
If this is your first visit, be sure to start with “1. Let’s do it!”
_____________________________________________________________________
At one point I headed up marketing for the book publisher Little Brown back in the day when it was Boston-based, housed at 34 Beacon Street, in an elegant building on Beacon Hill, first built as a home in 1825 on land belonging to John Hancock.
34 Beacon Street, Bosotn
Our big Spring 1983 title was Norman Mailer’s Ancient Evenings, his long-awaited novel. A lot of money was riding on it. And Mailer was behind schedule.
So, it was agreed that he’d come into our offices for a couple of weeks. To write, and not do any of the other nonsense he was known for. Like running for mayor of New York City, jumping in the boxing ring, stabbing his wife, and getting into fist fights.
We put him in the office next to mine. I was a nervous wreck. What if he didn’t like me? What if he wanted to punch me? What if in the faded light of late afternoon he mistook me for his wife? And really, if the two of us got into a fight, who’s side would Little Brown’s ownership take—the world’s bestselling author’s or the dorky marketing director’s?
Norman showed up. He started typing. Hour after hour. The guy was disciplined and a hell of a typist. Should I offer to get him coffee? Maybe a drink? But then I’d have to interrupt him. What if that caused him to lose focus just when he was about to write the greatest sentence ever? I sat at my desk not at all sure what to do. I coughed nervously. Hold on! What if my cough bothered him?
Which was when there was a knock on my door.
I turned. There he was! Oh lord, it’s over.
“Excuse me,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Just wanted to check,” he hesitated.
“Yes?”
“If the noise of my typing bothers you. If so, I do apologize.”
Which goes to show that one can wet his pants for no good reason.
Tomorrow: Reassuring Herman Wouk