Chapter 82

Unlike the "contest" micro-fiction, which itself carried a public meaning, "Long Road of Lu" belonged to an unpublished long-form work. In a writer's habit, it was absolutely forbidden for unrelated people to see it.

At most, it could be given to close friends.

Although she wanted to do something for Zhai Da, Lu Siwen still strictly adhered to the principle.

Although Lu Zetao felt he was a writer, if it weren't for Lu Siwen's begging, he wouldn't have made a special trip to throw out this olive branch.

Curiosity about Zhai Da was also one of the reasons.

He was also curious about what kind of person this teenager, whom both his wife and daughter had mentioned, was, and what exactly he had written.

It was just that, contrary to Lu Zetao's expectations, he had thought this teenager would be very excited to hear that his work had a chance to be published, but only a troubled expression appeared on Zhai Da's face.

"Uh... I've only written half of it, and I don't plan to write anymore before the college entrance exam..."

Lu Zetao didn't seem to expect to be rejected, but he quickly continued the topic:

"Actually, sending a manuscript to a publishing house, reviewing, contacting, confirming, typesetting... it's not that fast for a work to be published. Even if we start now, it might be after the college entrance exam."

"And everyone sends a part of the content or even an opening first, so you don't have to worry about that."

Zhai Da instinctively felt it was unnecessary. For one thing, he wasn't familiar with Lu Zetao, and suddenly saying on the overpass: "I plan to recommend your work for publication"...

To be honest, it was a bit awkward.

It was just like having a fifty-year-old woman with long hair suddenly turn around and say to you: "What is your musical dream?"

For another, "Long Road of Lu" wasn't finished yet, and because he had to grasp the score improvement, his study pressure recently wasn't small...

Just as he was organizing his words to decline, Zhai Da suddenly thought of his little plan.

That was to do something during the summer vacation...

Zhai Da was still quite concerned about the sticky note he had posted on the "Blackboard Tree" that day.

He wanted to do something, to pilot "get rich first, achieve common prosperity."

He hadn't researched it yet, so he wasn't sure how much money he needed to invest, and currently, he only had the 30,000 yuan prize money from the micro-fiction contest. As for the blog reading revenue, it was settled once a month.

By the next settlement, the college entrance exam would be approaching, and the next one after that would be in the middle of the summer vacation...

If physical publication wouldn't take up more energy, perhaps it was possible to consider taking advantage of the time difference and take precautions.

Let his wallet bulge a bit more.

Lu Siwen was waiting for Zhai Da's reply, her almond-shaped eyes full of anticipation.

She knew that her begging her father to come forward was a bit abrupt, but if she said it herself, she was afraid she would only be brushed off by Zhai Da...

Sometimes abruptness wasn't because of stupidity, but just because of eagerness...

Lu Siwen stepped forward, took Zhai Da's school uniform sleeve, and shook it slightly: "Student Zhai, communicating with the editor and confirming various matters will be left to me. It won't take up too much of your time."

Lu Zetao's eyes looked at his daughter pulling Zhai Da's sleeve, and his skin twitched.

But in the end, he didn't say a word.

Although in the whole thing, it seemed there was no benefit to Lu Siwen.

But... the ease of a wealthy family lies in being able to support and allow children to do some "correct but useless" things.

Hobbies, broadening horizons, paid work... eventually, this ease will settle into the child's character.

Finally, in Lu Siwen's moist, expectant eyes, Zhai Da finally nodded.

"Then thank you for your help. If 'Long Road of Lu' has a chance to be published, it's a good thing. However, I want to ask how the royalty for physical book publication is calculated. You should have more experience."

Lu Zetao thought to himself, of course I have experience; I have already published seven "masterpieces."

"The part of the physical book publication that belongs to the writer is called royalty. You can understand it as the 'tax' paid by the publishing house to the writer, generally 5%-10%. For example, if a book is priced at 20, the writer's 5% part is... one yuan."

Zhai Da:...

How much?

Damn, a Green Mood popsicle is 1.5 yuan!

"If the sales reach 10,000 copies, then the writer will have 10,000 yuan in royalties... generally, the first printing will be 500-1000 copies, and then added according to the situation."

Of course, self-publishing is not included in this; you can print as many as you want. Lu Zetao's family warehouse was full of his own "masterpieces."

Zhai Da was speechless: "Then for someone like me who has never published a book, how much sales can I generally reach?"

Lu Zetao smiled gently: "This cannot be estimated. The sales of literary works are hard to say."

Just like himself, such good works couldn't be sold... who could he reason with?!

As a wealthy, handsome old man, Lu Zetao was willing to explain to the young man entirely because of Lu Siwen and his self-identification as a "writer." He felt that it was somewhat of a promotion for the younger generation.

But the younger generation, Zhai Da, expressed that he was very disappointed with the financial prospects of the "writer" profession...

Although the royalty fluctuated between 5%-10%, he wasn't a famous writer, so he would inevitably challenge the lower limit of this industry rather than the upper limit.

"How many did 'Sanchong Sect' sell?"

Lu Zetao didn't like that "rebellious writer," but after all, Han Han was now in his prime, and the entire publishing industry and writer's circle were discussing him, so he had heard the approximate data.

"It is said that the sales were one million."

That is to say... for the most top-tier phenomenon-level work in the entire market, which might not even have one in a year, Han Han's income purely from physical books was only about one million... For the time point of 2008, it couldn't be said to be little, but this was the ceiling...

So why did people stop writing books and go to make movies later... writing books doesn't make money!

It is estimated that even more than ten years later, the income of writers is far from being comparable to stars and directors, so a large number of writers will sharpen their heads to rub into the entertainment industry...

Stars can make 208 a day by photoshopping, while writers can't compare even if they write until their pens smoke!

Of course, Zhai Da knew that there would be hidden benefits of film and television adaptation in the future, but that was even more distant for Zhai Da. Literary works generally wouldn't have adaptation opportunities unless they were settled for a few years or even more than ten years.

Zhai Da's interest in publishing physical books dropped a lot instantly.

However, since they had already talked about it, let's just take those 50,000 words to test the waters first.

Even a small fly is meat, and a pig's trotter is a jade foot, isn't it?

"Then I'll trouble you. Please help me look at the previous 50,000 words."

Seeing that the matter was settled, Lu Siwen became visibly excited, pulling Zhai Da's sleeve and bouncing continuously, her fluffy and smooth short hair turning into the shape of a small mushroom time and time again.

Lu Zetao's skin twitched again.

Endured it...

He could see that Zhai Da was very dissatisfied with the income of the writer's identity, but this young man would know later.

No matter what era, no matter what country, what the word "writer" brings is not just "money."

It might not be wise to treat it as a "lifelong livelihood," but treating it as "icing on the cake" can benefit you for a lifetime!

Lu Siwen handed the notebook prepared in her schoolbag to her father, then pulled Zhai Da and ran away in small steps: "Dad, we're going to school, if we don't leave, we'll be late!"

Lu Zetao could only wave his hand helplessly, although his daughter didn't see it at all.

After both of them had walked far away, Lu Zetao looked down at the "Long Road of Lu" in his hand, thinking to himself, I want to see what kind of work can make my daughter so obsessed... why haven't I seen her so obsessed with her own father's books?

Subconsciously turned a page...

"Boss Lu? Boss Lu?"

Lu Zetao raised his head, feeling his neck sore and stiff: "What's wrong?"

The driver didn't know when he had gotten onto the overpass:

"You didn't answer your phone, so I came to remind you... you're going to be late, there's a meeting today..."

Lu Zetao looked at his watch...

Half an hour had passed just like that?

When he looked down at the notebook again, there was no longer any contempt...

A complete and deep story, progressive conflicts, simple but wonderful writing... most importantly, the overflowing emotion...

A little jealous.

With his deep cultivation, he couldn't help but subconsciously burst out a swear word:

"Written really damn awesome!"

"Han Han? This is the real genius!"