The Writer's E-Zine Home

Writers' Village University - F2K: Free Fiction Writing Course - ePress-online
Writers' Village University Membership Information

Fiction Short Story

by Charles Langley

Time Out

The sign on the door said "Dan Elliot, Literary Agent." The plaque on the desk said "Daniel Elliot II." That is, if you got past the blonde at the desk outside the inner office and got to read it. Pretty, in an ice sculpture sort of way, Patricia was a formidable barrier.

Jim Garvey smiled at the receptionist but got no response. He walked through the door to the inner sanctum. He had worn a path on the carpets over the years and didn't need to be announced. He tossed the manuscript on the desk and helped himself to a chair. Things hadn't been all that good lately, but he felt he had outdone himself on this story.

Daniel the Second picked up the paperwork and fanned through it.

"It's time we had a talk," he said, brushing back his professionally styled brown hair.  "I haven't sold anything of yours lately, and I don't see anything that will change that. Your work is good. Damned good. But there's just no place to sell it. There's not a single short-story magazine around and the slicks want only one or two stories a month and they want them from the top writers. The only thing I sell anymore is sci-fi junk to a couple of kid's magazines and "absolutely true" libelous fiction to the super-market checkout counter rags. It's a pity, but it's a fact. The short story is dead. But if 1935 ever comes back, with the stack of material you have stashed away, you've got it made."

He slid the papers across the desk. Punk college kid, Garvey thought. If old Danny was still alive, things would be different. He picked up the writing and hurled it into the wastebasket . The blonde at the watched him stalk out without missing a stroke with her nail file.

Jim hit the street and the truck hit him almost in a single action. The bell that tolls for whom came close to dinging for him. But Jim Garvey knew nothing of this for temporarily he was not of this world.

---------------------

Jim Garvey walked into the office of Daniel Elliot, Literary Agent, and stopped by the receptionist's desk. Jo-Beth Kelly, the occupant of that desk, looked up.

"Here's looking at you, sweetheart," he said in his best Humphrey Bogart impression.

"Anything you want, just whistle," she came back, "He's in but he's very busy. Can't get by the fifth word in the Times crossword puzzle. Maybe you can give him the seven letter word for delightful."

"Bourbon," he offered as he went through to the inner office.

Dan Elliot sat behind a new highly polished desk. The plaque on the desk said, "Call me Danny." The desk calendar read June 1, 1937. Yet-to-be-read book manuscripts were piled neatly in one corner. Danny was in his sixties. His florid features led one to believe that he was acquainted with that seven-letter-word for delightful. His grizzled hair was neatly combed and the scent of after-shave lotion was in the air. His jacket was off and the sleeves of his blue-striped shirt were held up by sleeve garters. The New York Times was spread out before him.

"Bourbon," Garvey suggested.

"Can't be. Starts with E. What's that word they use with fields?"

"Elysian. Could be it. I like bourbon better."

"You better stay away from bourbon. Way your stuff is selling you're gonna have to work two shifts. Placed Little Joe in Western Story Magazine. Black Mask took Death Row. Dime Detective wants Not a Violent Man and Born Loser. They're gonna run them together as one story. Short Story magazine will use Tombstone and Poker Game but you'll have to use a pseudonym on one. Woman's Home Companion will use Sense of Loss. Argosy has dibs on Henry the Eighth and the Duchess of Denver. Collier's will run Reglar Feller right alongside The Insidious Dr. Fu Manchu. Too bad you didn't write that one. Sax Rohmer is writing an episode a week. Metroversal Pictures wants to string several stories together into a picture for  Charles Bickford. Every time the phone rings, I think it's another sale."

"You keep 'em selling, I'll keep 'em coming. Sleep is a waste of time, anyway."

When Garvey finally came out of the coma, Daniel Eliot the Second was sitting by his hospital bed.

"You know where you are?" he asked.

"Elysian Fields," Jim replied. "You seal that deal with Metroversal?"

"What deal with whom?"

"Metroversal Pictures. They wanted several stories for Charles Bickford."

"Who the hell is Charles Bickford? I never heard of any deal."

All this thinking made Garvey sleepy. He turned on his side and went back to sleep.

It was two weeks more before he was back on his feet and oriented to his surroundings. In his mind he still confused "Call me Danny" Elliot the first with his son, Daniel Elliot the Second. And icy Patricia with warm Jo-Beth. This was easy since Patricia seemed to be
thawing.

The call from Daniel the Second brought him to the office on the double.

"There's something strange with your account," Elliot told him.

"I'm overdrawn? That's the rule, that's not strange."

"You're not overdrawn. You have thirty thousand dollars in an account that I thought was empty. I checked it out and you have money deposited by twelve magazines and a movie studio. The magazines went out of business in nineteen-forty-one and the studio hasn't written a check since they were taken over by Universal in 1943. The checks have all cleared and the money seems to be real."

"What are we going to do about it?"

"I'm taking ten percent and you can worry about the rest. By the way, I have some work for you." He handed Garvey a sheet of paper. "Give me a book for each of these titles and we'll be back in business again."

Six months later Jim Garvey was again a successful author. One book published, one ready to be published and the third in progress. There was a strange look on his face when he accepted the check for royalties on the first and an advance on the second.

"This is only the start," Elliot told him. "How to Write Detective Stories" is selling like big Macs and "How to Write Romance" will do even better. Then we'll do "How to Write Screenplays", "How to Write Sci-Fi" and "How to Write Suspense Novels". When we run out of topics for titles, we'll rearrange the text and start over again with "How Not to Write Detective Stories." As long as there are more writers out there than readers, our fortunes are assured".

Garvey thought back to the days when he took such care in creating his characters, in writing authentic dialect, in making his writing a living thing. Tears formed in his eyes. There was an ache in his heart. He cried all the way to the bank.


About the Author
Since returning to writing five years ago after a fifty-nine year hiatus, Langley has written about one hundred and fifty short stories, poems or articles for ezines, magazines, or books.

Last year Gannett Newspapers gave full-page, nationwide coverage to Langley's time as cub reporter at the Hauptmann trial in Flemington, NJ, in 1935.