Arts
“The writer as reader,” my editor was trying to make a point. “The reader, as, umm, listener. You know the drill. The money’s all in podcasts and audiobooks and audiobook podcasts. That ilk. Hmm?” “I really don’t know what you want me to say,” I told him. I continued reading the words on the page. The words that I, umm, definitely wrote…. “I should say, Margaret, that if I grew a mustache without knowing it, then that is a pretty big deal,” I told my wife. “It took me nearly forty minutes convincing Ken that the sheen on my upper lip was nothing more than chicken glaze. I’ve been taking so much overtime lately. I don’t think he–” “No.” “No what?” “That isn’t the edit. Let me see that page.” My editor fumbled with some pages. “I mean, Mer, chicken glaze? What even is–” “It’s like the airborne residue that gets on you when you work at a chicken factory. I looked into it.” “Here. Here we go. Take this.” He handed me a page. “There is no question about the mustache, my friend. I don’t know where you thought you were heading with that and the chicken glaze and the other.” He laughed. And I suddenly felt very, very bad. “What the… You know. I think… Yeah, I need a minute. I’m taking five. Curtis?” I waved to Curtis who was manning the recording levels at the big fancy computer and soundboard. He gave me the okay symbol. I grabbed my coat and walked over to the window to put it on. I looked down at the city below. Alive. I could hear my editor sigh. “It’s your dime. Jeff said we could post on the feed once a day if we had the material. If being the operative word there, Mer. I get paid just the same, however.” “This whole deal is rotten to the core.” “That might be so, but a contract is a contract.” “Did you talk to him yet? Is he still going on about Q?” “R. And, yes.” “R?” “The ‘new’ Q, according to him. Odd bird.” “Huh?” “In his mind, there is an R now and no Q.” I was beyond lost and too tired to care at this point. “Whatever. Just get him to stop blabbering about it. I can’t see how this works as a podcast if his voice pops in from time to time spouting about conspiracy theory and nonsense.” “And sports.” “And sports? Oh, terrific. A bonafide loser.” “This is a terrible way to read isn’t it? With our dialogue running into each other on the page?” “I… I’m the reader, and it’s fine for me.” “You’re the reader now,” my editor said. “What do you mean?” He took a long drag from his cigar before responding, “You’re the reader now. But this is still a book.” “Isn’t it?” --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/myspace/support