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A mop of orange hair appeared

A mop of orange hair appeared

Felix almost always prepared breakfast for himself and Natalie, but some mornings he was just too sleepy. Natalie, running short of time, would go down to the kitchen and put on the coffee. By the time Felix appeared, sliced fruit, yogurt, acai berries, and granola were all set out on the granite island. He sat on one of the stools before realizing he didn’t have any coffee, just as Natalie handed him a cup.

He took a long, satisfying gulp while Natalie concocted her breakfast.

“What are you doing today, Felix?” she asked.

“Well,” he started, “I have to subscribe to David Dill’s podcast so I can get free access to his Chapter One app until the end of the month. Then, I suppose I’d better get my first chapter written.”

“How’s your part-time job search going?”

“Honestly, Nat, I don’t see how I can handle it this month with all there is to do.”

“Just asking,” she shrugged.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked. “I mean, your billing?”

“Oh, yes. No problems there. I have more work than I can handle this spring. By the way, a photographer is coming over this morning. We need to load some galleries on social media, so I want to build a stock of client-specific images.”

Natalie’s words led Felix to consider his own problems, as talk generally did.

“Nat,” he asked, “what do you think is the most critical marketing tool for authors? I mean, I know you’re more of an advertising expert although I can’t tell the difference anymore between the two and it seems to me that you’re doing marketing anyway, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well ...” Natalie started.

“I mean, don’t you think the book cover and the blurb are the way to draw readers to buy a book? What do you think?”

Natalie set down her spoon and looked at Felix, waiting.

“I think,” she ventured, “that the most important thing is to write a good story.”

“Is that all? How would people discover it?”

“You asked me what the most important thing is.”

“I meant, to sell it.”

Natalie reached over the smooth granite counter and took Felix’s hand.

“Coca-Cola once ran ads with the slogan, ‘Things go better with Coke.’ Their brand was strong and recognizable, and their bottles and cans became social props. Did their sugary drink make things go better? Not really. Today it’s considered unhealthy. But people bought into it. Is that what you want?”

Felix pulled his hand away and stood up.

“Yes!” he said. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh. Well, you asked for my opinion.”

“Nat, I’m trying to find a way to earn money. There are all kinds of authors out there making a killing! Why shouldn’t I?”

“You should do what you think is best, Felix.” Natalie knew that it was better to leave this alone so that he could find his way. It was hard to watch, but he was on a journey. Maybe he was right, at least about the way the world works.

“Well,” she said, “if you want some current data about climate change, we’re researching it, so let me know.”

“I think cli-fi is going to be the key to my success. I have to figure out how to make my blurb segue into a fairy tale. That’s going to be a challenge.” Maybe the fairy-tale idea wasn’t so great after all. He’d come up with something else.

“Why don’t you go to the library this afternoon? It’s supposed to rain.”

“I’ll just poke around the internet.”

Felix had his laptop open and was pounding the keyboard. Then he looked up and smiled at his beautiful wife.

“But thanks, Nat, for making breakfast and everything.”

Felix decided to wait on his fairy tale research as his first order of business was to subscribe to Dilligent. He went to the site, and there was a photo of David Dill, Best-selling Author of Read My Book. What a great website! He wondered if there was a way to find out exactly what Pantone colors he used. No wonder he was so successful; Felix knew how much The Self Pub had paid him to appear last night. Of course, nonfiction authors have a better chance of getting lucrative speaking engagements. Felix debated whether doing a novel was the right move. He didn’t want to disappoint Natalie. She had a point about the book content, although she didn’t understand that the publishing world wasn’t a meritocracy. You had to write to the market. He had learned all about that in Episode 69 of Dilligent. Now that he was a subscriber, he wouldn’t miss any more of David’s podcasts. Why, he could listen to them while he was driving!

He picked up his laptop and went toward his study. The doorbell rang, and he opened it to a young woman with cropped hair, cargo pants, a graphic tee, a couple of yogic tattoos, and various pieces of bead-and-leather jewelry.

“You must be the photographer,” he said. “Natalie is down the hall.”

The young woman smiled and made her way through the house. Felix and Natalie had an unusual arrangement of rooms. They had joined the kitchen and dining rooms to create a single space for preparing food and dining with friends, including a seating area. Natalie thought living rooms were a waste. Whenever friends came over, they hung out in the kitchen. Nobody sat on couches doing nothing anymore; the TV was in the study, and there was another one upstairs. Natalie’s office occupied the back of the first floor. A pair of small-paned glass pocket doors at the end of their ample hallway led to an open space as wide as the house. Natalie’s office was a bump-out in the southeast corner, surrounded by beds of flowering plants. The back wall, mostly glass, looked onto the terrace where a small group sat at a long table, discussing the morning business. Natalie, seeing the young woman enter, came inside and greeted her.

“I guess I should have an office in Collegetown by now,” Natalie said.

The woman, whose name was Cassie, replied, “Apart from the neighborhood, I like it here. It feels relaxed.”

They sat down in Natalie’s office.

“So, this is how we work: everyone comes and goes as they please. At most, we’ll have five people in here at one time. I give each person a time allowance on each project, and that varies every week. Nobody is here full time, except for me. Now in your case, that will be a bit different, because you won’t be hourly. We need to start with a few dozen photos for each of these categories.”

Natalie slid a piece of paper with a list of her current accounts and a brief description.

“I see you have Climate Consequences as a client,” Cassie said.

Natalie replied, “And I can’t look at another disaster photo. We want to highlight the longer-term impact, not the events. You know, people without food, animals that have lost their habitat. The idea is to create empathy rather than fear.”

Cassie nodded. “The consequences.”

“Precisely. And I’d like to build a strong photographic brand that focuses on positive human emotions, zoomed-in detail, images that you can reach out and touch. At the same time, I need each account to be distinguished by a unique color or textural scheme that I’d like you to identify.”

“I’ll take a look at their websites,” Cassie said, “for a start. Maybe I could put together four or five photos for each of these accounts so that we can see if I’m on the right track. I’ll go through my catalog, too.”

“Perfect. Why don’t you come back in a week, and bring along a proposal for your compensation? In the meantime, is ten dollars per photo chosen okay?”

“Yes, that’s fine. I keep the rights, and you tag me in the posts?”

“If you’re any good at this, I’ll want you to be exclusive. For your commercial work.”

“I’m a serial monogamist.” Cassie said, “No problem.”

“What do you generally like to photograph?”

“Everything. The camera has replaced my naked vision. I suppose you’ll want video, too?”

“Of course. But let’s start with stills.” Natalie got up. “Why don’t you come out and meet my other collaborators?”

Later, when Cassie was on her way out, Felix came out into the hallway to get the door.

“So, what do you do?” Cassie asked him.

“I’m a writer. An author, I mean, aspiring.” He reached up to scratch the back of his head. “I’m working in the cli-fi genre. Although I’ll be creating a subgenre or niche at some point.”

Cassie smiled. “Right,” she said. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your work.”

“Um, if you have any good climate catastrophe photos, let me know. I may be looking for one for my cover.”

Cassie nodded and stepped outside. She looked across the street at the gray vinyl-sided house where the weird neighbor lived. A mop of orange hair appeared in one of the upstairs windows, the sole splash of color. Cassie took a shot, then she got onto her Vespa and left.