Chapter 77

Unlike the "micro-novel" competition, which was inherently public, "Long Road" was an unpublished long-form work.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 principles.

Although Lu Zetao felt he was a writer, if it weren't for Lu Siwen's pleading, he wouldn't have made a special trip to offer 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 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 publisher, reviewing, contacting, confirming, typesetting... it takes time for a work to be published. Even if we start now, it might be after the college entrance exam."

"And everyone publishes a portion of the content or even just the beginning first; you don't have to worry about that."

Zhai Da instinctively felt it was unnecessary. Firstly, 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 like having a fifty-year-old woman with long hair suddenly turn to you and say, "What is your musical dream?"

Secondly, "Long Road" wasn't finished yet, and because he had to hurry to improve his scores, his study pressure had been quite high recently...

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

That was to do some business during the summer vacation...

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

He wanted to do something, to pilot "first get rich, then 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 from the micro-novel competition. 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 summer vacation...

If physical publication wouldn't take up more energy, maybe he could consider taking advantage of the time difference and plan ahead.

To make his wallet a little fuller.

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

She knew that her pleading for her father to come forward was a bit abrupt, but if she said it herself, she was afraid Zhai Da would just brush it off...

Sometimes abruptness isn't because of stupidity, just because of anxiety...

Lu Siwen stepped forward, took Zhai Da's school uniform sleeve, and shook it slightly: "Classmate 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 face 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, paying to work... eventually, this ease will settle into the child's character.

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

"Then thank you for your help. If 'Long Road' has a chance to be published, that's a good thing. However, I want to ask how the royalties for physical books are 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 royalties. You can understand it as the 'tax' the publisher pays to the writer, usually 5%-10%. For example, if a book is priced at 20, the writer's 5% 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 has 10,000 yuan in royalties... usually 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 is full of his own "masterpieces."

Zhai Da said speechlessly: "Then for someone like me who hasn't published a book, what level can the sales usually reach?"

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

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

As a rich and handsome guy with financial freedom, 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 helping a junior.

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

Although royalties fluctuate between 5%-10%, he is not a famous writer, so he will inevitably challenge the lower limit of this industry rather than the upper limit.

"How many copies did 'Three Chong Gate' sell?"

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

"It is said that sales were one million."

That is to say... the most top-notch 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... It's not a small amount for the time point of 2008, but this is the ceiling...

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

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

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 adaptations in the future, but that was even more distant for Zhai Da. Literary works usually don't have adaptation opportunities until they have settled for a few years or even more than a decade.

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

But since they were already talking about it, let's just use those 50,000 words to test the waters.

Even a small fly is meat, and a pig's trotter is still a jade foot, right?

"Then I'll trouble you. Please take a look at the 50,000 words I wrote before."

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

Lu Zetao's face twitched again.

Endure it...

He could see that Zhai Da was very dissatisfied with the income of a writer, 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: "Dad, we are going to school. If we don't leave, we will be late!"

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

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

Subconsciously, he 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 come onto the overpass:

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

Lu Zetao looked at his watch...

Half an hour has passed just like that?

When he looked down at the notebook again, there was no more 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 swear subconsciously:

"It's really damn awesome!"

"Han Han? This is the real genius!"