Blind Submission by Debra Ginsberg Page A

one day), it’s also a bit confining and could become a little claustrophobic. However, I think this is easy enough to remedy if the author is willing to rewrite. I think there is potential here for a good book about contemporary relationships—always a topic of interest. I’d recommend contacting her right away to make sure she hasn’t gone anywhere else with this and asking to see the complete manuscript.
    Â 

    MY FIRST DAY
at
work quickly turned into my first night
of
work. I read through my stack of manuscripts first, placing Shelly Franklin’s novel at the top of the pile so as to rescue it from Anna’s ham-fisted rejection, and then I turned my attention to editing
Parco Lambro.
I was surprised by how easily the work came to me. It was as if I knew, instinctively, which words to move around and shave off to uncover the picture Damiano wanted to create. I could hear his voice in my head as I read and sensed the story he meant to tell. I responded with marks from my red pen. I’d never really done anything like this before, unless you counted the minor editing I’d done on Malcolm’s stories, but it felt entirely natural to me—unlike the other first-day tasks I’d fumbled through. The biggest bonus, though, was that I was truly enjoying myself.
    Malcolm hovered around me as I worked, careful not to interrupt me at first, but growing increasingly impatient as the hours stretched on. It was clear he wanted a full report of everything I’d experienced at my new job, but I explained to him that he’d have to wait for the blow-by-blow account.
    â€œShe has to have this
tomorrow,
” I told him, pointing to Damiano’s manuscript.
    Malcolm came up behind me and put his hands in my hair, stroking my neck. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice heavy with seduction. “You’ve been at it so long, baby.”
    â€œMalcolm, please…”
    â€œFine,” he said, dropping his hands and his attempt to sway me. “Then I guess I’ll make you some coffee.”
    â€œThat would be great,” I said.
    The next time I looked up it was close to dawn and Malcolm had passed out, fully clothed, on my bed.

    I WAS ON MY WAY TO the office a few short hours later, and by the time I made it in, still long before nine o’clock, Lucy and Craig had already generated a list of ten top editors for
Parco Lambro.
In the meantime, Lucy had sent a copy of the unedited manuscript overnight to Natalie Weinstein, to whom she’d promised an exclusive. Natalie Weinstein would have it exclusively for exactly two days, but according to Lucy, that was long enough. “She knows this business,” Lucy told me. “She knows that I can’t let a hot manuscript languish on her desk.”
    While I walked Damiano through my revisions on the phone (“We need this yesterday, Angel,” Lucy told me. “Make sure he gets it to you by tomorrow or type it up yourself. On your own time.”), Lucy pitched his book to her ten editors. Because she wanted me to hear her make these pitches (“You need to learn how this is done, Angel.”), I put Damiano on hold several times to run to her office, paper and pen in hand, and listened to her conversations in progress:
    â€œWell, I can’t give you an exclusive, you understand, Charles. However, I
can
guarantee that you will be the first to receive it. If you’ll give my assistant your home address, I can overnight it to you there.”
    â€œI’m telling you, Katherine, I’ve really never read a manuscript with so much raw power. Of course, this is why I thought of you first. I know your talent for keeping such emotion fresh on the page.”
    â€œYes, Julia, he’s extremely marketable. Think dark and sexy.”
    â€œI thought of you immediately, Frank. This is bigger than genre—it’s a sweeping social comment. What? Yes, I agree, we certainly do need