Chapter 69
"You said my writing is worthless? Do you have any idea how damaging that is to a creator?!"
"...Yes, I acknowledge you're a professional editor. But that style simply doesn't suit me. Even if I need to pivot, I can't force it like this."
"...Let's both cool off. I'm hanging up now."
Isabella Sullivan ended the call and turned to meet her daughter's inquisitive gaze. She forced a smile. "It was the publishing house."
"Are you sure everything's alright?"
"Since when does your mother lie to you?" Isabella gently smoothed her daughter's hair. "Print media isn't doing well these days. Many writers are switching to online novels. My editor wants me to pivot too, but I haven't decided yet."
"Online novels?" Sophia Sullivan was taken aback. "What genre?"
Isabella's smile was strained. "Urban romance."
Sophia fell silent.
Isabella was a mystery writer. She had shot to fame early in her career with "The Weapon," which sold over half a million copies. Her subsequent publication, "The Deserted Village School," broke sales records.
That year was dubbed "The Year of Isabella Sullivan." She dominated the top five spots on the bestseller list alone.
Her current editor had sought her out during that time.
Isabella admired her editor's vision and boldness. Coupled with her sincere enthusiasm, Isabella signed a ten-year contract.
But after signing, Isabella's creativity hit a wall.
Her concepts were consistently rejected for not being marketable. Outlines that finally got approved were demanded revisions before she could even start writing.
After making changes based on her editor's feedback, she lost all desire to write.
She never stopped writing these ten years, amassing nearly a million words of practice work, but none of it was published.
It wasn't that she had no work.
Her editor had her write a young adult novel, aiming for film and television rights. Campus dramas were hot at the time.
But this wasn't Isabella's forte. The writing was agonizingly difficult, taking a full two years to complete.
By the time it was published, the market trend had already shifted.
Youth themes were being mocked as "whiny and self-indulgent."
Isabella was heavily criticized.
Her longtime readers accused her of "selling out." Critics panned her for "problematic values."
Netizens bluntly said she had lost her talent and suspected someone else was writing under her pen name.
Isabella nearly fell into depression during that period.
Fortunately, her family's support helped her gradually recover. But from then on, she stopped going online, even switching her phone to a basic model.
In ten years, aside from that one young adult novel, Isabella had no new publications.
"Let's not talk about this. Is the fried dough good?"
"It's good. Tastes the same as always."
Sophia looked at her mother, hesitating to speak. "The soy milk is just a bit too hot."
"Then let it cool a bit more."
...
With New Year's Eve approaching, the small town was filling with holiday spirit.
Red lanterns hung along the streets, and colored lights wound through the trees.
The local supermarket was crowded with scant supplies, so Isabella drove directly to the large downtown supermarket.
After parking, mother and daughter took the elevator to the first floor.
A large red "Fu" character sign stood at the entrance.
The supermarket was packed with shoppers stocking up for the New Year.
Their home had no children, but visiting relatives and friends during the holidays was a must. Students would come to pay New Year's respects, neighbors would drop by. Dried goods and fruit were essential.
Passing the snack aisle, Isabella picked up some brand-name candies and cookies.
Noticing the soy sauce, vinegar, and other condiments were running low, she restocked.
Reaching the seafood section, the live giant river prawns looked fresh. Isabella turned to ask her daughter, only to find her missing.
Pushing the cart back to look, she found Sophia loading raw chocolate ice cream into it.
Eating ice cream in the winter with the heating on had its own unique charm.
She had hoped to sneak a couple in, but was discovered so quickly.
Sophia blinked. "...Can we keep a couple?"
Isabella raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
In the end, Isabella left one in the cart.
"Mom, one is too few. Don't you and Dad want any?"
"We don't."
"Then I'll eat it!"
Isabella glared. "In your dreams. Just one."
Sophia pouted. "...Fine."
"Isabella?" A voice came from behind.
Mother and daughter turned simultaneously.
A woman around forty stood there. She wore a white suit, her hair swept up in a high bun secured with a hairpin.
She had a business-like yet artistic air. Her features were ordinary, but her highly arched eyebrows gave her a somewhat severe look.
"Editor Moore, what a coincidence." Isabella greeted her with a smile.
"Yes," the woman walked over to them, her gaze settling on Sophia. "And this is?"
Isabella: "My daughter."
"She's this big already? Last time I saw her, she was still in high school."
"Yes."
Nina Moore examined Sophia carefully. "She's getting more and more beautiful. Takes after you."
Isabella's smile widened.
What mother doesn't like hearing her daughter praised?
"By the way, about pivoting, which we discussed on the phone this morning. Have you thought it over?"
Isabella's smile froze.
Sophia finally realized this was her mother's editor.