McDonaldsson Publishing LLC
Hattie Bloomberg, Editor
1336 N. Norbert Ln
(555) 555-0202
hattiebl0om999@mdpc.com
February 15, 2093
Dear Ms. Herrera
It is with heavy regret that we have to reject your manuscript, Tempeh Toddy: A BBQ Book of Regretful Meals Made While Drunk (a Satirical Memoir of My Mistakes). While well written, it is not the best fit for McDonaldsson Publishing. Best of luck in your future publication endeavors.
Kind Regards,
Hattie Bloomberg, Editor
_____________________
Re-reading the rejection letter for the fifth time, Kimiko traced the swoop of the signature of ‘Hattie Bloomberg’ with her eyes. By now everything just felt mute and numb. Setting the letter, absently on the desk again. Kimiko put the headphones on, one-handed and pressed play on the queued up music she was listening to. Clicking over to the open document on her computer, staring at the blinking cursor. The gloom was starting to settle into her bones, like roots set to bloom defeat and flower fatigue.
She didn’t know how many more of these letters she’d have to endure before she got one that accepted the story of her life as worth publishing. The lo-fi music was not doing its job to soothe her. But it was making her sleepy. It wasn’t until the skippable ad interrupted the music that she jolted, from falling asleep completely.
HEY YOU, ARE YOU A WRITER? TIRED OF GETTING REJECTION LETTERS FROM EDITORS? SUSPECT THOSE EDITORS MAY BE AI, THAT ARE PROGRAMMED TO REJECT A CERTAIN PERCENTAGE OF GOOD HUMAN WRITTEN CONTENT WITHOUT EVEN HAVING READ IT SIMPLY BECAUSE THEIR PROGRAMMING TOLD THEM TO DO IT? WELL, LISTEN UP BECAUSE I HAVE A SOLUTION TO HELP YOU!
Now sitting upright, mind alert, Kimiko listened to the rest of the ad, she searched for something to write down the information that was being given on the advertisement as quickly as she could before it was over and her music was back and she started to fall asleep again.
Once the ad was over. And the music returned, It didn’t have the same sway on her synapses. She slowly took her headset off and set it aside on her desk, staring at what she scribbled down. She took a deep breath, and picked up her phone, to dial the phone number given on the advertisement to get more information.
Once she dialed the number, she heard a single ring, and then a pause before more rings. Kimiko’s heart was racing in her chest, she was feeling hopeful for the first time in months. Even if that dramatic voice that was all showmanship was only a recording on an answering machine.
THANK YOU FOR CALLING. YOU ARE ON YOUR WAY TO BREAKING YOUR WRITER’S BLOCK FOR GOOD, I ASSURE YOU THAT I AM A REAL HUMAN PERSON, AND THAT I WANT TO HELP YOU. BUT DO UNDERSTAND THAT MANY PEOPLE ARE BLOCKED CREATIVELY AND I CAN ONLY HELP ONE SOUL AT A TIME. I AM NOT A MACHINE, LEAVE YOUR NAME AND A CALL BACK NUMBER AND HAVE FAITH THAT BY THE TIME I CALL YOU BACK, IT WILL BE EXACTLY THE RIGHT TIME AND YOUR WRITER’S BLOCK WILL BE RELEASED~
Beep
Taking a deep breath, “Kimiko Herrera. 555-3339, Thank you.”
And then she hung up and set her phone down and stared at the dark screen. The dim melody of lo-fi music from her headphones was only barely louder than the loud percussion of her anxious and hopeful heart. Her hands felt cold and tingly. She hooked the phone to the charger and took another deep breath before getting up to refill her thermos of water. She’d been camped out in her room grieving. Her room smelled like stale food containers and sleep.
Returning to her room with a thermos full of tap water, she huffed as she plopped down before her desk, nearly falling asleep again, when her phone lit up and started buzzing across the wood of her desk. Her heart jolted and she sprang forward and picked up the phone. Answering it on the second or third ‘ring’ or rattle of vibrations.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Kimiko Herrera.”
“Who is this?”
“I am calling to help you with your writer’s block.”
“How is that exactly?”
“You need some chewing gum.”
“How is chewing gum going to help me?”
“Trust me. I have sold more than forty million copies of the sixteen books I have published. I know what I’m talking about. Go out and buy, or steal if you have to, a single pack of gum, make sure it has at least six sticks in it. And then when you get home, start writing something new. You only have six days. And only write when you are chewing the gum, that is very important. One stick a day is my recommendation.”
“Why? How is gum going to help?”
“It will. Go now. I will call you back in six days. I have many contacts in the publishing world. Forty million copies of sixteen books. Trust me. Get the chewing gum.”
Click.
Kimiko sat there stunned. Not sure if what had just happened really happened, if it was a hallucination or a scam. She didn’t know. But it was just chewing gum. There would be no harm in trying it out. After all, if it was real. If it was really a way to break the writer’s block, and this mystery helper could pass along her manuscript - her freshly written manuscript - and get her successfully published, it could be worth it.
And if it wasn’t legit. She’d be one pack of chewing gum richer.
