JК
Bag of Bones :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 25 из 425“He’s only pretendingcompassion,” she said. “Actually, he’s like a cop in one of those old film noir movies, keeping his mouth shut so you’ll blunder ahead and end up confessing to everything.” This time I kept my mouth shut—just switched the phone from my right ear to my left, and rocked back a little further in my office chair. When I did, my eye fell on the framed photograph over my computer—Sara Laughs, our place on Dark Score Lake.
I hadn’t been there in eons, and for a moment I consciously wondered why. Then Harold’s voice—cautious, comforting, the voice of a sane man trying to talk a lunatic out of what he hopes will be no more than a passing delusion—was back in my ear. “That might not be a good idea, Mike—not at this stage of your career.”
“This isn’t a stage,” I said.
“I peaked in 1991—since then, my sales haven’t really gone up or down.
This is aplateau, Harold.”
“Yes,” he said, “and writers who’ve reached that steady state really only have two choices in terms of sales—they can continue as they are, or they can go down.” So I go down, I thought of saying… but didn’t. I didn’t want Harold to know exactly how deep this went, or how shaky the ground under me was. I didn’t want him to know that I was now having heart palpitations-yes, I mean this literally—almost every time I opened the Word Six program on my computer and looked at the blank screen and flashing cursor.
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay. Message received.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Does the book read like I’m wrong, Harold?”
“Hell, no—it’s a helluva yarn. Your personal best, I told you. A great ’!.’i… read but also fucking serious shit. If Saul Bellow wrote romantic suspense fiction, this is what he’d write. But… you’re not having any trouble with: the next one, are you? I know you’re still missing Jo, hell, we all are—” “No,” I said. “No trouble at all.” Another of those long silences ensued. I endured it. At last Harold.:iid, “Grisham could afford to take a year off. Clancy could.
Thomas” Harris, the long silences are a part of his mystique. But where you are,life is even tougher than at the very top, Mike. There are five writers for, e’ ery one of those spots down on the list, and you know who they are—"hell, they’re your neighbors three months a year.
Some are going up, the: way Patricia Cornwell went up with her last two books, some are going…:down, and some are staying steady, like you.
I hadn’t been there in eons, and for a moment I consciously wondered why. Then Harold’s voice—cautious, comforting, the voice of a sane man trying to talk a lunatic out of what he hopes will be no more than a passing delusion—was back in my ear. “That might not be a good idea, Mike—not at this stage of your career.”
“This isn’t a stage,” I said.
“I peaked in 1991—since then, my sales haven’t really gone up or down.
This is aplateau, Harold.”
“Yes,” he said, “and writers who’ve reached that steady state really only have two choices in terms of sales—they can continue as they are, or they can go down.” So I go down, I thought of saying… but didn’t. I didn’t want Harold to know exactly how deep this went, or how shaky the ground under me was. I didn’t want him to know that I was now having heart palpitations-yes, I mean this literally—almost every time I opened the Word Six program on my computer and looked at the blank screen and flashing cursor.
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay. Message received.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Does the book read like I’m wrong, Harold?”
“Hell, no—it’s a helluva yarn. Your personal best, I told you. A great ’!.’i… read but also fucking serious shit. If Saul Bellow wrote romantic suspense fiction, this is what he’d write. But… you’re not having any trouble with: the next one, are you? I know you’re still missing Jo, hell, we all are—” “No,” I said. “No trouble at all.” Another of those long silences ensued. I endured it. At last Harold.:iid, “Grisham could afford to take a year off. Clancy could.
Thomas” Harris, the long silences are a part of his mystique. But where you are,life is even tougher than at the very top, Mike. There are five writers for, e’ ery one of those spots down on the list, and you know who they are—"hell, they’re your neighbors three months a year.
Some are going up, the: way Patricia Cornwell went up with her last two books, some are going…:down, and some are staying steady, like you.