+TYPED OUT-

+CASUAL CONVERSATION-

"Is that all?" Monday exclaimed once Bens' explanation concerning the tuna sandwich was over.

"Yes, you arrived a little after he finished."

Monday threw a glance at Kenneth's empty booth. The man probably went out for lunch. He had many talks and podcasts scheduled. Monday figured she wouldn't see him for the rest of the day. She pursued with her business, chats, and autographs. The books she read before crossing Katelyn and Lennon got her thinking about how readers perceived her writing. Monday asked everyone who visited her booth which of her books was their favorite and why.

None praised her writing style. All spoke of either the plot or characters.

No, she wasn't one of the talented ones with beautiful prose, but the hard-working writer, trying to improve her craft with every new book. She met deadlines which was a plus. Thus she was publishable thanks to the others who forfeited.

"I love the way you write. I'm from Guatemala. Your English is easy for me; your books are easy and funny. Easy is great for non-English natives who want to read and understand stories."

"Thank you."

Yes, Monday was an easy writer, but a published one. She remembered the blessing of seeing her name on book covers, all the people eager to meet her at the fair and other events. That's what she decided to retain as they wrapped up for the day.

This time Ben told her about the after-party during the day, and the woman psychologically prepared for her evening.

Knowing the exhibitors would leave after the prize announcements the next day. The BookInc organizers scheduled a cocktail dinner on the second night to ensure most guests attended.

Kenneth left the fair a little earlier to shower and change. He hated assisting to such events after working up so much sweat on the stage. The man forced everyone to wait as the dinner didn't start before his arrival. His entrance became the main event, and Monday discovered he could coordinate an outfit. Navy wool crew neck and dark rinse straight jeans were efficient and straightforward.

"Sorry, I'm late."

"Kenneth, I kept a seat for you," Meredith yelled.

He made his way to the table, and the conversations resumed with the restaurants' bustle.

The table plan had Monday and Tim with distributors and another author Monday knew, while Ben sat with Lennon, Katelyn, and a few other people.

"Book shops are reluctant to buy copies with digital taking over."

"Tell me about it's a constant tug war where they want to know NYT, GoodBooks, and Amazon rankings to buy."

Where before, books were considered best sellers at a substantial number of copies on a territory. The bracket now ranged between five thousand and ten thousand copies for paperback the first week.

Mondays' first book barely hit four thousand copies. The woman cried and thought her publisher would drop her, but she still had obscure, forgotten drafts online people found and read for free. She deleted everything for the second book. Still, sales were low. Monday opted for a strategy where she left excerpts and teased the release. The plan paid off; also, she had a new editor who decided to keep her writing voice without taking out the words she used to animate the paragraphs, which made her story sound like one told by the campfire.

Thanks to this, Mondays' tuna sandwich was born.

Monday listened, or she made an effort to appear as though she did to her tables' conversations.

Luckily Tim was there to fill in the blanks while the woman outlined her plot in her mind. None took notice.

At the other side of the room, Kenneth observed everyone speaking either about themselves or their work. It was stupifying the see the pompous opinion most had of themselves. For Kenneth, those who never doubted were happy fools as they feared no venture, yet never improved as they didn't question any of their actions. Some were incapable of giving an objective critic of their work, let alone accepting one. Still, they sought Kenneths' opinion, and they obviously flattered him with compliments. Others came to find him to debate on philological questions, which he dodged. Not because Kenneth didn't have anything to say, but he hated the idea to see his words quoted somewhere after.