"The Editor-in-Chief is here to see you," the secretary reported to Russell, the Editor-in-Chief of the "New York Post," as he entered the office.
"Submission? Tell him to go find Evan and the others for submissions. Why come to me?" Russell responded impatiently.
"This person was recommended by Evan. He's special, and his manuscript is also quite unique," the secretary explained.
"Oh? How special is he?" Russell asked casually.
While handing over the manuscript, the secretary explained, "This Mr. Tony Monet is a survivor of the Titanic, and his story is precisely about the Titanic's sinking."
"Hmm? Weren't they all bound by confidentiality agreements not to reveal the details of the shipwreck? Why would this guy dare to write it as a novel?" Russell asked, puzzled.
After a moment of hesitation, the secretary replied, "I believe White Star Company won't have any objections to this novel. Just take a look and you'll understand."
Russell glanced at the secretary and then started reading the manuscript. Fortunately, the novel wasn't excessively long. With Russell's professional reviewing skills, he managed to read through it in about ten minutes. It was evident why the secretary believed White Star Company wouldn't have any objections – the novel perfectly aligned with the recent PR requirements. The shipwreck's causes were glossed over, and both the crew and the first-class passengers were portrayed as gentlemen, radiating positivity.
Excited, Russell turned to the secretary and said, "Quick, bring Mr. Monet in. I have something important to discuss with him."
Indeed, this submitter was Monet, and the novel he wrote essentially turned the Titanic into a narrative. He was confident that, riding on the wave of Titanic's popularity, publishing this novel shouldn't be difficult. As for choosing the "New York Post," he discovered that among the slightly larger newspapers, this paper had the most extensive whitewashing efforts, which was undoubtedly tied to White Star Company or financial considerations. So, why not submit his strongly positive novel here?
Hence, when he received the Editor-in-Chief's invitation, Monet unsurprisingly followed the secretary to the office. Russell warmly greeted him, "Mr. Monet, greetings. I just finished reading your masterpiece. It's exceptionally well-written and moving. We at the 'New York Post' have decided to publish this novel, and serialization will commence the day after tomorrow. However, I'd like to ramp up the publicity. We're arranging an interview with our reporters, and you won't have to worry about the content. We'll provide it to you. Is that acceptable?"
In fact, this was Russell's purpose for meeting Monet. Otherwise, if it were just about publishing a serialized novel, there would be no need for the Editor-in-Chief to personally get involved. As for the interview, despite his flattering words, Russell's aim was to have Monet, as a survivor, retell the story according to their requirements, thereby justifying the advertising fee paid by White Star Company.
Naturally, Monet wouldn't refuse this request, but before accepting, he asked, "Of course, that's no problem. But I'd like to inquire about the payment."
Before Monet could finish his sentence, Russell gestured expansively, "Five hundred dollars. How does that sound?"
"Alright, alright. Thank you, Mr. Editor-in-Chief!" Monet expressed his gratitude repeatedly.
"Mr. Monet, you seem to be in a good mood today after returning home!" Wendy asked curiously, observing Monet's spirited demeanor.
"It's because I made a big sum of money today. Come on, let's go out for a good meal!" Monet replied excitedly.
"Thank you so much, but could you teach me how to make money? I've been looking for a job these past few days and it seems only clothing factories are hiring women, but those jobs are too tiring. I just can't do it!" Wendy pleaded, her mind simultaneously formulating a daring idea.
"Well, I've only had some luck making money today. I haven't found a stable and well-paying job yet," Monet scratched his head and answered.
"Oh? So, how did you make money today?" Wendy asked, puzzled. At the same time, her daring idea gradually faded from her mind.
"It might be hard to believe, but I submitted a short story to a newspaper. Most likely, you'll be able to see this story in the 'New York Post' tomorrow or the day after," Monet explained.
"Oh my goodness! So, Tony, you're not just a painter, but also a writer!" Wendy exclaimed.
Monet waved his hand dismissively, saying, "I'm not really a writer. I just wrote about our experience during the disaster."
"Huh? Didn't we sign confidentiality agreements not to talk about what happened? How could you dare to write about it?" Wendy asked, puzzled.
"Because I didn't write the truth. I wrote what they wanted to see. The reason I chose to submit to the 'New York Post' is because it's clearly affiliated with White Star Company."
He then changed the topic, saying, "Of course, I didn't lie either. I just emphasized a love story and breezed over the parts White Star Company wouldn't like."
Wendy suddenly understood, saying, "Oh, I see. That's really clever of you!"
Monet humbly replied, "It's just a small trick. Come on, let's go out for a feast!"
The meal was enjoyed by both of them, but on their way back, Wendy suddenly stopped by the roadside, seemingly frozen in place. Just as Monet was about to ask if she was feeling unwell, he saw her hurriedly approach a lady with an elegant dog. Wendy pointed to the glossy-haired dog and asked, "Mrs. Tommy, is this, is this Bobby?"
Mrs. Tommy glanced at Wendy and warmly replied, "Oh, it's Wendy. I'm delighted to see you again. Yes, it's Bobby. It's surprising you remember him. Well, I have things to attend to. Let's chat another time." With that, she walked away.
However, Monet noticed that Wendy continued to stare fixedly at Mrs. Tommy's back, her expression peculiar. Curious, he asked, "Wendy, what's going on with you?"
"Bobby was also on the ship. Tell me, how did he survive?" Wendy asked coldly.
PS: In 1912, five hundred dollars were roughly equivalent to an average worker's yearly income, and they had to work over sixty hours a week.
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