Fiction Fix Seventeen
New fiction by Eric Barnes, Elizabeth Genovise, B.P. Greenbaum, Melissa Hammond, Victor Robert Lee, Rory Meagher, Dianne Nelson Oberhansly, Penny Perkins, Carter Schwonke, Ben Shaberman, and Alice Thomsen.
New fiction by Eric Barnes, Elizabeth Genovise, B.P. Greenbaum, Melissa Hammond, Victor Robert Lee, Rory Meagher, Dianne Nelson Oberhansly, Penny Perkins, Carter Schwonke, Ben Shaberman, and Alice Thomsen.
- TAGS
- literature
- stories
- fiction
You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
59<br />
<strong>Fiction</strong> <strong>Fix</strong><br />
and continued without waiting for me to<br />
respond. “Look, most people don’t even have<br />
a book inside of them, and even for those<br />
who do, most of them never get it out. You’re<br />
one of the lucky ones. You had a book in you,<br />
and we got it out—at least, what was left of it.<br />
Granted, it’s fragmentary and full of palimpsest,<br />
not to mention being caked with purple<br />
adhesions due to its prolonged, impacted state.<br />
But at least you have something to work with.<br />
Some folks wait even longer than you did and<br />
still have to go through the pain of the surgery,<br />
just to extract a jarful of viscous pulp. Not a<br />
legible word to be found.”<br />
She paused to let it sink in.<br />
“The need for a medical editor is a good<br />
sign. Really.”<br />
At that point, I did start to cry.<br />
Without missing a beat, she handed me a<br />
box of tissues.<br />
“You could have died from decompositional<br />
toxic shock syndrome or even No. 2 lead poisoning.<br />
The good news is, you’re going to<br />
be fine.”<br />
I wiped my eyes and looked at her. “But<br />
what about my book?”<br />
She was already writing on her pad. “As<br />
I said, I’m referring you to a very talented<br />
medical editor. She specializes in impacted<br />
cases like yours.”<br />
I managed to take the prescription slip and<br />
thank her. I started to leave. She stopped me.<br />
“Don’t forget your manuscript.”<br />
She handed me the corrugated box that<br />
contained what was left of the book. It felt<br />
much lighter than I expected—and suddenly<br />
I had the terrifying thought that it might be<br />
a novella, the maligned homunculus of the<br />
literary world. And then (worse yet!) I noticed<br />
the box had a terrible odor. My book stank.<br />
Dejected, I walked down the hall to settle<br />
my co-pay. Would my insurance cover a medical<br />
editor, and if so, could I afford the 20%<br />
of fees not covered? And if not, how would I<br />
ever get this foul-smelling offal into shape? If I<br />
couldn’t get authorization for a medial editor,<br />
would I be able to revise the manuscript on<br />
my own? Was that even legal? Should I even<br />
try, or would that simply relegate me to the<br />
slippery slope of vanity publishing?<br />
I paid the receptionist, and she handed me<br />
the receipt. As I started to walk away, she