If she knew what she was ordering, it’d be rude of him to intervene. So Haruto chose his own beverage, flagged down a waiter, and ordered some drinks and appetizers. Before long, the beers were brought in, along with some pretzel sticks as an extra.
Haruto had opted for a Saison Dupont. This one used a lot of hops, so while it was refreshing, it was also very bitter and satisfying to drink. This “saison” beer style was native to Belgium, drunk by workers during farmwork in the summer, and it was perfect for this late-spring weather.
“Well, cheers.”
The two of them lightly clinked their glasses, took a sip of beer, and bit into a pretzel. The crunchy sticks, liberally sprinkled with salt, went extremely well with the beer.
“Ahhh, that’s good…” In no time at all, Miyako had half the glass finished. There was something oddly alluring about her sigh of satisfaction. “I feel like now that I’m a working adult, things like beer taste a lot better.”
“Huh, you think?” replied Haruto, quite surprised. “I’ve never really had a ‘real’ job before, so…” He smiled. “Oh, how’s your work going? I heard you’re supervising a writer now.”
Miyako gave this a dry sort of smile. “Work, huh? Ahhh…”
She sighed again and took another drink of beer.
“Miyako?”
“…Work is going great. Every day is so fulfilling…”
“Oh? That’s good.”
“…is something I’m not sure I’m ever gonna say again.”
“Oh…” Haruto tightened his face, embarrassed. “Um… Well, the author of Dark Knight was Misaka from back at GF, right? Is he giving you a lot of trouble, too?”
Miyako shook her head. “It’s not that bad, actually. I just wasn’t paying enough attention to his needs…”
She then explained everything that had happened with Sota Izumi, aka Soma Misaki, as they grazed on the fresh fish carpaccio and chicken piccata that arrived at their table.
“Mm… Well, it happens sometimes, y’know? You can’t let it bother you too much.”
It didn’t sound too comforting to Haruto, either, but that was all he had for her. These things did happen sometimes.
“You think so, huh…?”
Miyako sipped at her Leffe Radieuse—another high-ABV beer for her second pick—and sighed. Then she looked right at Haruto, her eyes bleary. “Fuwa, I wanted to ask you something tonight.”
“Y-yes?”
Haruto blushed at Miyako’s oddly impassioned gaze. Then, in an all-too-serious voice:
“What do you think writers want from their editors?”
Haruto blinked at the unexpected question. “What do writers want from their editors? You’re asking me that?”
“Yes.”
“…Why me?”
“Because most editors would say Itsuki and Toki are pretty unique cases, and Nayu’s all like, Stay out of my way and I’m cool with them, which seems too cold to me, so…”
“Ahhh, so along those lines, you think it’d be more useful to hear about the stereotype more? Like what me and Kawabe have?” Haruto grinned.
Miyako hesitated a bit, then admitted, “Well, yes,”
“All right…”
She likely said yes to this date for work help, too. She was always so serious-minded that way, but it made Haruto feel a bit sad for her. Still, he was glad she was relying on him. It was with those mixed feelings that he considered her question.
“What do they want…? Well, I’ve never had any complaint about Kawabe, so… But like you pointed out, with Chevalier, we were definitely just doing business with each other, but now that we’re on to Revive, we’re working much more closely together. He’s helping me make appointments for interviews, collecting source material, accompanying me on bookstore visits… And actually, didn’t the editor for Karuma the Lawyer bring in an actual attorney and collect other material for the author to work with? So yeah, people who can dedicate themselves to a series beyond the call of duty like that…I really appreciate it.”
“I see…”
Miyako wrote, Devotion to series beyond the call of duty in the notebook she had out as Haruto went on.
“But, well, if every editor worked as hard as the one for Karuma did, there’s no way they’d have enough time to take care of everything. I don’t think it’s right for writers to demand that kind of selfless dedication, either. But at the very least, you gotta have the three basics of business communication.”
“Reporting, contacting, and discussing?”
“Yeah. Because honestly, nine times out of ten, if a writer clashes with editorial, it’s because there’s a lack of that somewhere.”
“Whoa, that often?!”
Haruto nodded at the incredulous Miyako. “If a writer e-mails a manuscript, always reply saying that you’ve received it. If possible, add a line indicating when you’ll give a reply. If it looks like you can’t make a deadline, reach out fast and work up a new schedule. If something goes wrong, report everything you’re able to. If both editors and writers can stick to all that, I think that’ll reduce a lot of the friction you see.”
“Communication… Yeah, I could’ve prevented that incident the other day if I explained more why Izumi’s preferred illustrators weren’t available…”
“But we know that editors are busy people, and we know it’s a pain to get contacted whenever something’s on your mind. We know it’s no fun to tell the truth if there’s trouble brewing. But for a writer… Especially for a writer who works with just one publisher, their editor can often literally be their only contact with society at large… It can vary a lot from person to person, but generally, the longer a writer doesn’t hear from their editor, the more their distrust of them rises. Exponentially, even.”
“That’s how it works?”
Haruto chuckled at Miyako’s surprise.
“Writers, by definition, have a lot of imagination, for better or for worse—and if there’s no word, they start to imagine more and more negative things. Like, if they send a manuscript and there’s no response for three to seven days, I can deal with that. Any more, and I get antsier and antsier. I’ve experienced this myself, but having no work contact for a week just feels like forever. I get it if they’re too busy to read a manuscript, but they need to tell me about that, y’know? …But don’t just whip out I’m busy with other work, either, because that can irritate people, too. It can easily be taken to mean your work has less priority than my other stuff.”
“Oh? Then what should I say?”
“I dunno.”