Job Reading Manuscripts Novels & Stories

The data needs to be accurate, and this manuscript is an original. For over thirty minutes, I keep going through the manuscript's contents and using the knowledge to refine what I have. However, my eyes are burning from staring at the tiny, faded texts. The manuscript is written in an archaic font style that takes twice the normal needed time for deciphering its contents, but I continue pushing through because what I have discovered so far is pure gold. Also, I need to be faster. The library will probably close soon and I— A hand suddenly clamps over my mouth from behind. My body reacts before my brain catches up, my hands dropping the manuscript and I quickly reach for the small knife strap

His eyes sharpened slightly at that. “You’ll address me as Mr. Hayes in this office.” “Yes, Mr. Hayes.” Clara gave a small nod and exits, closing the door behind her. We’re alone. The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything unsaid. Nathan walked back behind his desk and sits. He doesn’t offer me a seat. “You’ll assist with manuscript sorting and preliminary reviews for now,” he said, sliding a stack of files toward the edge. “You’ll summarize each submission in under five hundred words. Clarity matters. I don’t tolerate laziness.”

My MFA advisor had silver-framed glasses and the demeanor of a woman who’d spent thirty years cutting fat from prose the way surgeons cut fat from bodies – without sentiment, and with the understanding that what remained would be stronger for the loss. She tapped my manuscript with her pen. A slow, rhythmic click that made my lungs forget their job. “This is publishable,” she said. “Not in a magazine. As a book.”

Janet buzzed the intercom to let Anna know that her eleven o’clock appointment had arrived. Usually when she met with an author, especially for a previously unpublished author, they would be accompanied by their agent, or agents depending on their representation. Obviously that was another policy that Nathaniel Braverman either wasn’t aware, or chose to ignore as he had done by directly dropping off his manuscript. If only he knew as much about the publishing business as he did about basketball, Anna thought. She was more concerned about his knowledge of Vashti than either of the other two.

The office buzzed with low chatter phones ringing, keyboards clicking, someone laughing near the water cooler. I wasn’t an editor. Not yet. I wasn’t even allowed to read most submissions past the first ten pages unless assigned. My job was simple: log the manuscripts, make notes if something stood out, fetch coffee, file documents, and occasionally run errands for the senior assistants. It was grunt work. Exhausting. Repetitive. But I didn’t mind. Every day I was surrounded by books by writers whose words had made it through this same process. The thought made even the paper cuts worth it.

For the next half an hour or so, Annabelle and I went through Archipelago database and our system, "Today, you will not work real work. Instead you will go through the manuscript that we have already decided to publish. You will go through our manuscript and publishing rules, and you will learn them by heart. I need you to be aware of them. I need you to know them day and night, and to be able to spot what we need within drafts and works that get passed through your hands. Is that fine with you?" I nodded and with a hand on my shoulder in support, she walked away.

I didn't know he knew I was here, he hasn’t looked up at me since I walked in. “It's okay. I understand you are working.” “Thank you. Can you please start your research here? There are textbooks that definitely contain whatever topic you want.” I eye the unending rows of text book that lined the walls. I would drown in those books whilst looking for a textbook. “You heading somewhere?” “Yes. I have to do the filing of paperwork, I don't know how it will take; but I will do my best to come as soon as I can.” “That’s not part of your job description.”

I cannot and will not recommend publication of work that doesn't challenge both you and your readers to feel something genuinely transformative. You have six weeks to complete this rewrite. If you cannot deliver work that meets these standards by that deadline, I will have to recommend that Meridian pass on publication of this manuscript. I realize this sounds harsh, but I'm being direct because I believe you're capable of extraordinary work. The question is whether you're willing to do what it takes to create it. Let me know if you have questions. Jake Morrison Senior Editor, Meridian Publishing* Emma read the email twice, her heart sinking further with each word. Jake wasn't just asking fo