The Freebie (Fiction) – Part Two, So Far

A sort-of-short story continued from yesterday…

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The Freebie (continued)

After a little bit of additional research Callie’s innate suspicions were quieted down to manageable levels.  She visited a number of “respectable” websites – publishing houses, literary agents, and authors – all of which talked about offering free books in exchange for reviews.  The sites were so matter-of-fact about this process that Callie was quickly convinced that it must be legitimate.  Of course, the speed of her acquiescence might have had the tiniest bit to do with her eagerness to acquire a library of her very own.  And if it did, she thought, so what?  What sort of bad things could possibly come from free books?

She’d laugh about it now if she could; if she wasn’t too scared to even think too loudly she’d laugh long and hard at how she had walked right into this one. Callie didn’t read a lot of horror – she had always found the genre a little trite for her tastes, relying as often as it did on surprisingly predictable (at least in the aftermath) foreshadowing.  She tended to prefer heartier and more unusual literary fare.  But she had read enough of these kinds of books to recognize the type – especially stuck inside it like she was.  It was a disgrace, really.  I mean, honestly, she thought, when had she become such a cliché?  If her life were a story, she’d be the literary equivalent of the big-boobed blonde walking into the dark basement by herself, whistling loudly into the dark the entire time, vacantly calling out: “Is anyone there?”  How had she not been able to see what was coming – how had she, who read all the time, not picked up on this particularly hackneyed plot line?  Talk about adding insult to injury…

At the time though, there was nothing identifiable to laugh at (or to be scared of) – all Callie did was smile.  First things first she realized she would need a website.  A few more minutes of research revealed that this could be done for a nominal monthly fee, payable by credit card.  This wasn’t a problem – Callie had a credit card, for use in case of emergencies only mind you.  She had applied for and received one right after she got her job, figuring that she was a single girl a long way from home and that a single girl a long way from home never knew when she might find herself in a bit of a pickle.  She knew she was breaking her own rule by using the card to set up the website.  She was hardly in a state of emergency or even the teensiest bit of a pickle; she had access to all the free books she could read (and then some) through the library, after all.  But the mental picture of her own collection of books, organized her own way, shelved in her own apartment, available to her whenever she wanted was so seductive that she couldn’t resist.

Twenty-seven minutes later she had purchased a domain name (www.CallieReads.com), read through the online tutorial on how to set up a basic website and an email account, and she was raring to go.  The domain name needed to be approved first, though, and the hosting company website informed her that this could take up to forty-eight hours.  Callie had no idea how she would wait that long.  She felt as though books were being dangled in front of her, but just an inch out of reach.  She decided to spend some compiling a list of contacts and books to request, so that as soon as her domain was approved she could start sending out emails for books.

She also started investigating other book blogger sites.  It never hurt to understand the competition, right?  Plus, she wanted to see what the general protocol was for requesting and reviewing books.  Callie didn’t want to leave anything out or make any massive gaffes in her initial run in the free-book race, so she set out to find a bunch of established webpages that could serve as her guides.

One hour and forty-three minutes later, her favorite librarian – the one who reminded her just a little bit of the sweet old lady who had helped her get her first library card – came over to tell her that the library had closed twenty minutes before.  The librarian loved Callie – she reminded her just a little bit of the sweet young girl her granddaughter had been, before she got involved with that awful boyfriend and started taking The Drugs, that is – and had let the girl keep working while she did all of her closing work, but it was getting late and she really had to lock up.  Callie blinked in surprise – she had lost all track of time while hunting down free books, and had no idea it had gotten so late.  Callie apologized repeatedly; the librarian smiled and told her not to be silly, she understood that sometimes you just got lost in what you were reading, whether in a book, magazine, or online.  Callie smiled sweetly, thanked the librarian for letting her stay, and with a quick wave over her shoulder she headed out the door on her way home.

Callie could barely sleep that night.  Her body was humming with anticipation, her brain couldn’t stop thinking about the piles of books she would be able to accumulate with her new website.  Callie was not a greedy girl by nature, but years of borrowing – and memories of mean Wal-Mart lady run-ins as a child – had left her with a surprisingly sharp hunger for books of her own.  The next day she worked a double-shift, which meant she would not be able to make it to the library before it closed.  The day after that, she worked the opening shift; at precisely noon, she removed her nametag and bolted out the door and down to the library.  There was one computer station open.  Callie could barely type she was so excited.  But somehow she managed, and then there it was – notification that her domain had been approved.  She was officially in business.

Callie had read that many authors and publishers were reluctant to send free books to new bloggers or those without an established track record or following.  So she diligently set about creating a simple yet visually appealing website.  In research-mode the day before, she had learned that most hard-core book bloggers operated according to a set of posted and established review criteria.  This way, prospective authors or publishers knew exactly what to expect from the reviewer – and the reviewer had some accountability (even if unenforceable) to a set of timelines and objectives.  Many sites featured ranking systems of their own devising too.  Most were cutesy takes on a standard five-point scale, using unique images or objects to identify the points.  Callie thought most of the images and objects were either too predictable and therefore boring (stars, hearts) or too random and therefore simply attempts at looking clever or unique (spiders, lightning bolts); her scale would be much simpler.  She would give books a score of one to five bookmarks.  She found a nice looking graphic on a free stock photography site, and she was in business.

With the rating system and review guidelines issues settled and addressed, Callie set about preparing a handful of sample reviews to post immediately.  She pored over her most recent reading lists (ever since she was a small child, Callie had kept a notebook listing every book she had ever read, when she read it, and how she rated it), identifying ten books across various genres and topic areas to make sure that there would be a review for almost any type of reader, author or publisher who might view her site. And then she started sending out emails.  Lots and lots of emails.  And then she waited.  And waited.  And waited.

She was starting to get discouraged when he contacted her.

It was two weeks to the day that her website had been approved.  Two weeks with no emails, no comments, no requests.  She had a few people visit her website; she had learned how to track that in her initial research.  But no one said anything, asked a question, or gave any feedback at all.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zip, zero, zilch.  She was starting to get pretty discouraged.  And then, all of a sudden, there it was.  A little black “1” – a sign of approbation, a signal that someone was out there.  An email!  Finally…

The email was oddly formal, and the return address was not from any of the common email domains she recognized.  The message began: “Hello Ms. Callie Reads,” and then proceeded straight to the point: “I understand you are available to review books, and was hoping that perhaps you would be willing to review mine.”

Callie actually held her breath as she read the rest.  She read how he would be “delighted to send a copy of his latest novel for review,” how he was “so impressed with the reviews available on CallieReads.com,” how he “truly hoped that they could work together now and in the future.”

His name was Nick St. James.  He told her that he wrote mostly horror stories, and that he had a hard time finding reviewers because not everyone liked to be scared.  He had a few books under his belt, he wrote, and although none had reached critical acclaim just yet, he had managed to achieve some modest success in a few local markets.  He was cautiously optimistic about his latest endeavor though, he wrote, because he believed he had “ironed out a few kinks” in his story-telling style.

He went on to describe his background and history, his initial forays into writing and publishing, and his philosophy on writing and marketing.  Nick St. James wrote in a voice that resonated with Callie – he didn’t write to impress or to appear “artistic”, he didn’t over-rely on clichés or description.  Callie found Nick’s email engaging; he wrote like he was talking directly to her, like they were sitting together over coffee.  It was almost possible to forget that the email was one-sided, that they weren’t actually having a conversation, that they had never met.

As Callie read the surprisingly long email, her heart started to beat faster and faster.  She also experienced a most curious feeling of tension – it felt oddly like being on high alert, as if her nerves were being plucked like guitar strings.  She dismissed it as nervous excitement over the realization of her plan.  She had been so excited about the prospect of collecting enough free books to have a library of her own, about setting up the website, about being able to do this all on her own.  And then she had become so discouraged when no one answered her emails or visited her blog to leave comments or ask her to review their books.  She chalked her nerves up to the roller-coaster emotions (and hunger – she had been so focused on her quest for free books that she hadn’t been picking up as many extra shifts lately and her food fund was a little low) and ignored them.

In hindsight, she can’t believe she didn’t listen to her own body.  Callie wasn’t prone to hysterical, overly emotional reactions, so her response should have served as a pretty big hint that something wasn’t right.  Stupid, stupid, stupid to have not seen that then, when she could have done something about it.  Then again, as her mother used to say, hindsight is twenty-twenty…

At the end of Nick St. James’s email, there was a web address for more information and a plea: “I do sincerely hope that you can assist me.  I have been searching for just the right type of reviewer, and believe that you fit the bill perfectly.  With your help, I am confident that this book will be a huge success.  Please do let me know as soon as possible if you will be able to work with me on this endeavor.”

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(To be continued…)