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VLB Éditeur

Modifié le : 2019/07/27

I will undoubt­ed­ly calm down even­tu­al­ly. Yes­ter­day I received the VLB Pub­lish­er con­tract. I was asked to ini­tial all the pages of the agree­ment in blue ink and then sign the last one.

I’ve become too mod­ern. Not a pen at my house. I could have asked the neigh­bor, but I real­ly need­ed to calm down. So I took the sub­way to a down­town sta­tionery store, noth­ing less. Dur­ing the jour­ney, I reworked a chap­ter, hand­writ­ten by Perig in hand, and in the oth­er my iPad Mini.

I took the oppor­tu­ni­ty to do the week­ly gro­cery shop­ping, then went home, still with the man­u­script under my fin­gers. I did­n’t like that pas­sage in chap­ter 33 at all. Too fast in emotions.

After putting the gro­ceries away, I read the rather stan­dard con­tract, ini­tialed, signed, and went down to the ground floor to have Lau­rent signed as a wit­ness. VLB pro­vid­ed the stamped enve­lope for the return of their copy. $1.34 per stamp ? Enough ? I’m too afraid of prob­lems. I go to the post office, not far away and they con­firm that every­thing is in order. The counter clerk takes out her large stamp and shoots it on the enve­lope, which seals the agree­ment. The enve­lope spins in a slot.

I just came from the post office, ner­vous. It’s seri­ous now. A big pub­lish­ing house held me back. Strange­ly enough, I am wor­ried about the next text to be writ­ten, not the one that has not yet been com­plete­ly revised.

At home, unable to work even if cus­tomers are wait­ing. I have a lit­tle headache, I decide to take a bath. I’m almost asleep. My friends are wait­ing for me for din­ner. I am tak­ing with me the bot­tle of sparkling wine that had been in my refrig­er­a­tor since Octo­ber, for­got­ten at the bot­tom of a cup­board for four years.

The intox­i­ca­tion begins. The meal is deli­cious. Con­fit of Que­bec duck which, for once, is not dry and cheap­er than what is sold in gro­cery stores. Good red wine. My head is spin­ning. I end­ed up going home, unable to real­ly go to bed. I’ve had too much to drink. The liv­er is no longer used to emo­tions and bubbles.

In the morn­ing, I had a dream. I was mak­ing $5 mil­lion. I woke up dis­ap­point­ed to find out that it was­n’t. On the bed­side table, my iPad and the man­u­script. I am begin­ning to calm down, I will stop talk­ing about it, I will go back to the bot­tom of the cave, not to hiber­nate, but to find there the dark mat­ter of soli­tude on which to draw the water from my word.

Thank you VLB Pub­lish­er. I’m calm­ing down. I have work to do.

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