Surviving as a Writer in the British Empire

Mysterious Debut (1)

“Peter Perry and the Fairy Forest”.

There was no particular reason why I wrote this novel. It was just to get close with the employer’s kids.

—Hensle, read me a book.

-That’s no fun. I mean I’ve already read it all.

─I want to see something more fun!

Kids from wealthy families full of curiosity and academic tendencies. That was the brother and sister of our employer, the Millers.

As a wealthy man, Mr. Miller also had quite a few books. Because the library was almost at the level of a library.

However, that wasn’t enough. That too.

It had to be. In this era, there is no BIN syndrome yet, so the speed of publishing books by writers has slowed down…

In the era of web novels, daily serialization is standard, but in this era, monthly serialization is standard. The quantity is only about 4-5 times.

Of course, it is a speed that is tantalizing for young children with good memories and good brains.

That’s why there was nothing wrong with being friendly with the sons and daughters of employers, and I couldn’t give them a ride on a sore neck every time. It was this book that I tried to write as a study to escape from the hard work.

Can’t you feel from the title that it was written like ＜Jane Eyre＞ or ＜Henry Potter＞ to suit the tastes of British children?

I wonder if my senses died, fortunately the reaction was okay. Even though it was a short story, Madge and Monty came every other day and blew a cross attack asking me to write more.

Thanks to that, I talked to the Millers while I was working as an art dealer.

Obviously, it must have been all about writing the work on poor quality paper and tying it up roughly. Even that was infrequent these days due to busy business. however······.

Why did it come out of that man’s hand out of the blue!

“You haven’t said goodbye yet, have you? Excuse me! My name is Richard Bentley Jr. I am working as an editor to succeed the family publishing house.”

“Ah, yes.”

The gentleman smiled and showed me his business card.

I put the business card of that publisher, Richard Bentley and Son, in my pocket.

I honestly don’t know.

I’m not a writer in this era, and I can’t remember the names of publishers.

At that moment, Bentley’s face was briefly disappointed, but it was indeed a sales job.

In an instant, he returned to his original servile face.

No, that’s not what’s important now.

“Yes, so how does Mr. Bentley have my dog?”

“yes? Are you private? Hey, didn’t you submit your submission to our company by mail?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t intend to publish it?”

I said with a genuinely dumbfounded expression.

I had no, no, absolutely no intention of publishing this private journal.

I myself was busy right now, but honestly, as a native Korean who has only been in England for a few years, I wondered if the writing I wrote in English could sell well. Even in this age of romance (laughs)?

It would be quicker to be turned around by the Royal Literary Society (RSL).

“I don’t know how it happened, but it’s not a very pleasant situation as a copyright owner.”

When I said that with displeasure, Mr. Bentley’s pupils quivered like a Lisbon earthquake.

As if embarrassed, he said, wiping his sweat with his handkerchief.

“Ha, but the author. Your work is already the most popular work of ＜Temple Bar＞, the monthly magazine of our publisher.”

whatever.

I pricked my ears. To say that the one I roughly knocked on was the most popular, it must be that the magazine is not very popular either.

It was the moment I thought so.

“Hey, look at this!!”

The gentleman took out a thick envelope from the bag he was holding and showed it inside.

The thick scent of flowers mixed with various perfumes stings my nose.

I asked frowning.

“What is this?”

“This is a fan letter addressed to the artist!!”

“A fan letter?”

The real hidden camera material was also made gorgeous. Stunned, I pulled out the letters.

however······.

“uh?”

But it was real. There were innumerable letters addressed to the writer Hanslo Jin.

This is from London, this is Plymouth? Oh my God, I also have one from Edinburgh.

What the hell is my article selling for? why?

“Isn’t it really cheering like deterioration? In line with this enthusiasm, our publishing company also came to publish a book this time and to see the face of the author.”

“So, you haven’t published a book yet?”

“That’s right. This is a sample. It also doubles as a gift copy for the author.”

So, it means that I am still only doing magazine serials.

However, it is an irreplaceable fact that my rights were violated at the point of already being sold anyway.

After a long time, my sense as a copyright owner is sharpened.

Now, that moment when I was trying to find out exactly who the hell it was by questioning whether it was Bentley or Macmillan.

“Handle? What is it?”

“Ah, Mr. Miller.”

My employer, Mr. Miller, has returned home.

I spoke quickly before Bentley said anything.

“sorry. Because some thief is talking nonsense. We will deal with it immediately.”

“A thief?”

“Hey, author! Because that’s not it!!”

Be quiet, you thief.

Anyway, isn’t it true that you sold my book without signing a proper contract? what did you do well

It was time for me, like a priest, to seriously consider sinking the self-appointed editor’s skull with this thick tome.

Mr. Miller approached, took over the cranial blunt in my hand, and said,

“Yeah, this is what I came to now.”

“yes?”

wait for a sec.

You mean ‘now’? What is this again? Why are you talking as if Mr. Miller waited for my book to come out?

I looked at my employer with a puzzled look.

Then, Mr. Miller laughed at my gaze, then took out a pipe and continued.

“Well, actually. Madge told me to scold you.”

“It’s not a soul. What did I do wrong…”

“Hansell, the book you wrote is so interesting, but I’m angry that you didn’t write the next one.”

“…”

Something is out of the ordinary, but it’s not that I don’t understand it.

Among those who have read fantasy in Korea, there is probably no one who has not harbored a long-cherished wish to set fire to a persimmon tree.

“Of course, for me, it’s good to have a competent employee like you to focus on work. But aside from that, I thought how much fun it would be for Madge to say that. And I saw it, I had fun too.”

“Mr. Miller…”

It was a word I always heard from children, but when the same words come out from him as a grown adult, the weight feels different.

They say that the bigger a person is, the less likely they are to be praised. Is that why? A strange tingling feeling in the chest.

“But I am a merchant, an art dealer at that. I have to know the proper value of the art in my hand, but I have a job that I can’t solve. As you well know.”

“So you said you wanted to check with an expert. Just like you asked me about art.”

The answer was enough with a smile on his lips.

It was me who had worked together for a long time, so the pure goodwill that was conveyed seemed to be conveyed as it was.

Hey, then you can talk to me. This nobleman is very clumsy as a gentleman, but he has a deep affection.

While thinking that, I suddenly remembered the most important thing.

“Then what about royalties?”

“I bet you sent your bank account number as well when you submitted it? Didn’t the publisher send it by any chance?”

“Failed to verify. You’ve been too busy lately.”

“That’s right.”

It’s not even the era of mobile phones, so it’s impossible to check the incoming money in real time like Internet banking. In the first place, Ashfield is a rural area, so there are no banks.

To get it right, you have to go all the way to Exeter, the largest in Devon.

At that moment when I was thinking about what to do, Richard Bentley spoke like a thunderbolt.

“Don’t worry! In case something like this happens, I cut off the royalties slip I sent to the writer.”

“A slip?”

I wonder if it’s okay… I glanced at Mr. Miller.

Then Mr. Miller nodded and held out his hand. I mean check it out. I handed him the slip.

He took out even his glasses from his bosom, put them on, and checked them carefully before handing them back to me.

“Confirmed. It must be.”

From noble mtl dot com

“How much is it?”

“About 300 pounds? It’s pretty good.”

300 pounds!? No, it’s not that good, right?

Isn’t that about 70 million won in Korean currency? Are there too many?

I was about to shout that, but I realized once again that this nobleman was an art dealer who handled art worth hundreds of millions of dollars as a hobby with a golden spoon.

And it has been of great help to me.

“Oh, that’s okay! Even at our publishing house, royalties are quite exorbitant!”

“okay? I trusted the value of Bentley’s name and handed it over, but it seems that it is quite difficult. Hey Hansel, do you know George Newnes? He’s a journalist who has connections with his wife’s family, and he heard that he’s preparing to release a new magazine these days. The name was probably ＜Strand Magazine＞…”

“Hey, wait a minute!!”

look at it

Mr. Miller smirked and gave me an eye smile.

As expected Mr. Miller, he is merciless when it comes to peeling and eating.

I couldn’t help but admire his skill.

Although he spends more days obsessed with cricket than painting these days, he is still a self-made man who has succeeded in coming to England. As a merchant, if you have thick bones, it means that you are thick, not thin.

Richard Bentley Jr. had no choice but to express his condition sadly like a cow being slaughtered in front of Mr. Miller.

In the end, under Mr. Miller’s expression of satisfaction, my contract with Bentley Publishing came to me on very generous terms.

Compared to this era, the human rights of writers are much better, and even by the standards of future Korea, it was a fairly large-scale writer’s condition, so there was no reason for me to say anything.

“Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

“If you are grateful, please write hard in the future, writer. Madge is expecting that much.”

“hahahaha, can I sign your autograph in advance?”

“Huhahahahaha! Thank you for doing so.”

After Richard Bentley had gone, I chatted with Mr. Miller and signed the book he had left behind in proper cursive.

The material is really good, but this.

After that day, I started working as an art dealer and writing at the same time.

It was more like tapping the typewriter under the courtesy of Mr. Miller, who said it was an incredibly small amount of work.

It’s work, when I’m really in a hurry, sometimes to help my emotions, or to the extent of taking a walk before the kids nap time.

I was really grateful to see that the wages were not reduced.

It’s a writing that started in such a good environment.

“Hmm, is this really okay?”

In fact, I still had some insecurities.

You said you were the most popular in London, what are you worried about?

Isn’t that the editors’ obvious motivational words? It’s too worn out to believe it straight away.

Moreover, the competitor is Untouchable. Did I mention Strand Magazine, the magazine that Mr. Miller said he would introduce you to? It is the magazine in which the Sherlock Holmes short stories are serialized. The best detective novel of all times and places is my competitor.

It is a period that can be called a singularity in modern literature.

Will my writing really work? It is natural to worry and worry as a writer.

“Ugh, no matter how much I think about it, the deadline only gets delayed. Let’s write it.”

Heaven decides whether or not a post will be published in the first place.

The more you do this, the more helpful it is to empty your head. All I can do is build a stockpile until then.

“Besides, even if it doesn’t work out anyway, I have a valuable artifact coin.”

There will be no problems with eating and living.

Thinking of a strong barn, I tapped my typewriter.

Yes, that’s what I thought until then.

however.

＜Peter Perry and Sherlock Holmes, the protagonists of this era!＞

＜Richard Bentley Publishing House, ‘Highest Performance Ever’ March!＞

＜Praise Lewis Carroll… “If there’s one book my students should read, it’s none other than Peter Perry.”＞

“no.”

I quietly closed the newspaper.

······this. Are they selling too well?