If anything, it could light the fire under my ass to resume work on the sequel.
I was so happy when I held a printed copy in my hand. That was just over 12 years ago. I would promote it at Christmas time, suggesting that it would make a perfect gift under any tree.
I kept several copies at home, selling signed copies for less than Chapters-Indigo or any other bookshop. I even gave some copies away, as a prize for my old Where In Ottawa? challenges.
It was a self-published work, something that I had to pay for, up-front, before I made any money. I didn't expect it to ever make a best-seller's list but I hoped enough people would buy a copy to make it worthwhile. I was ecstatic when I learned that the Ottawa Public Library, for a time, had a copy on its bookshelf.
I broke even in sales.
At first, my royalty cheques came in every few months, and I'd be happy. A couple of hundred bucks here, a few more hundred there. I made a decent profit off of my private sales. But over the years, the cheques came far and few between, and the amounts were very little.
The cheques came from an American bank, so I'd have to stick them in an envelope, enter the amount into my Canadian account at the ATM, and let whoever sorted it out to convert the cheque and credit me the difference.
But a few years ago, the ATMs went envelope free, and the cheques wouldn't be recognized, and were rejected. Even taking a photo of the cheque for my smartphone banking app would decline the cheques, so I ended up not cashing them.
No matter. They were only for a couple of bucks.
Over the years, however, I would occasionally receive an e-mail from various publishing houses, offering to publish my book. Unlike a self-publishing company, they would pay me up front, without me putting in any money of my own.
But they were based in the United States, like my self-publishing company. I didn't want American cheques and I didn't want to deal with tax forms from the U.S.
I never responded to the e-mail messages. Over time, when I received similar messages, I'd scroll straight to the signature area of the message, and if it was from someone with an American address, I'd delete the e-mail.
Many, I wouldn't even open. I'd just see the subject line and move it straight to trash.
I don't know why I opened the e-mail that was sent to me a few weeks ago, rather than just trashing it. But I opened it and scrolled straight to the bottom. And this time, the sender worked from a company that was based in Toronto.
I scanned the message, which told me that the printing house was interested in Songsaengnim. They worked with well-known publishers, such as Simon & Schuster, a company that I recognized.
I told myself that I'd look at the e-mail more closely when I had time, possibly on the coming weekend. A second message quickly followed, by the same person, telling me about a bookstore that they also own, in Toronto, that specializes in works by Canadian authors. There were pictures of the bookstore, attached.
More than a couple of weeks had gone by and I had almost forgotten about these e-mail messages. But over this weekend, I received another message from the company; this time, from someone else.
She essentially gave me the same message, but with enough changes to make me think that these folks work from a single template but personalize it a bit.
This time, I took some time to look into them. I Googled the bookstore and went to the Web site. I plugged the address into Google Maps and saw the store through the street view.
I Googled the printing house and visited their Web site. It was quite elaborate. They had links to their social-media sites and I visited three of them: Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube.
Man, they've made a lot of YouTube videos, promoting various books, going back more than two years. If these folks were scamming, they certainly went to a lot of trouble.
I responded.
I didn't say much, other than saying that I was interested in learning more about how they could get my novel to a larger audience. "What's the next step?" I wrote.
That's where I'm at. I've gone from all but forgetting about Songsaengnim to thinking how nice it would be to breathe new life into it. I've written about half of the sequel, Gyeosunim, but gave up on it last year.
I had lost interest in it.
If this printing house turns out to be the real deal, and if I start selling more copies, that could give me the push to returning to work on the sequel. Perhaps, even, another book after that?
For now, I'm not getting my hopes up. I'll see what they have to say and then go from there.
Stay tuned.
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