AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Daphne bolted from the dream and ran for the bathroom. When she came back, she sat on her bed.
The girl in her dream was right. Because the girl in her dream had been her. Thirteen-year-old Daphne watching a female author speak and thinking That could be me for the first time ever. Thirteen-year-old Daphne standing in front of endless shelves of young adult books, most written by women, giddy at the possibility.
That was what she wanted. Then she’d gotten frustrated and sent that email under a man’s name, and now Edge wasn’t even on the young adult shelf because they hadn’t marketed her book to teenage girls. Her book was “better” than that. It sat on the mainstream shelf. Was that because it had a man’s name on it?
She’d lied to readers. Misled them. She hadn’t meant to. She hadn’t considered them—this was about seeing a dream come true and then being terrified of doing anything that could destroy it.
The other day, she’d thought Zane would refuse the tour because he wouldn’t care about a career in writing. She did.
How much did she care? How tightly would she hold on to this lie?
How much of her book’s success was the book itself? And how much was Chris? Chris as Zane, handsome and polished and confident. And just Chris as Chris, clever and quick-witted and charming.
It was a good book. Pushing past imposter syndrome, she knew it was good. She also knew that Zane helped get eyes on it and that made a difference. You can tell the best story in the world, but no one’s reading a book they haven’t heard of.
Did she trust that she could write? Yes. Did she trust that she could find a readership? Yes. It might not be as big as Zane’s, but she didn’t need all this. She just needed enough to keep writing.
She checked the clock. Five a.m. Of course it was. Because OMG, I need to do something moments always came when nothing could be done.
She popped off an email to Nia. Just a simple “Call me” with an added big fat lie of “Nothing urgent! No rush!”
Less than twenty minutes later, her phone rang.
“You’re up early,” Daphne said.
“Not as early as you,” Nia said. “Did something happen? Feedback from the shoot?”
“No, no. It’s just…”
Daphne told Nia what she’d dreamed.
“I need out,” Daphne said. “What I’m doing is wrong. I’m deceiving people, and I need to stop.”
“Hit pause on the doom-spiraling,” Nia said. “Time for a two-minute reality break. Ready?”
Daphne inhaled. “Ready.”
“Your publisher knows Zane is a pen name, and thousands of authors use them. Most keep their real name hidden. Some women use male pen names. Some men use female ones. Some authors refuse to have photos taken. Some adopt a disguise for photos, and some even adopt an entire fake persona for signings and events. Then there are the ones who use twenty-year-old photos. And don’t even get me started on the fake bios—they’re as fictional as anything in the actual books. Then there are the celebrity novels. You know most of those are ghostwritten. Do the people reading them know it? Does the celeb admit it? Oh, I’m sure there are exceptions, but it’s a standard practice.”
“For marketing. I didn’t do it for that, yet Chris has helped sales.”
“Which makes you feel guilty. Do you think those celebrities feel guilty? Fine. Skip the celebs. Regular authors who use pen names are not trying to deceive readers. It’s about privacy. Which is exactly what you wanted. To get your book published and stay out of the limelight. Are there readers who feel deceived when they discover an author uses a fake name or a fake persona or a fake photo? Sure, but that wasn’t the author’s intention, and that persona is not what they’re selling. The book is what they’re selling. I don’t owe my clients one whit of personal information. I owe them what they’re paying me for—damn fine legal expertise. Readers are paying for your book. Not for Zane Remington. Sure, some would pay for Zane Remington, but that isn’t a service he’s offering.”
Daphne smiled and shifted. “But I still want to come out.”
“I agree. It’s the rationale that I’m arguing with. You did not set out to deceive readers. However, this has gone way beyond a fake name, bio, and cover photo.”
“I know, and I feel terrible. This isn’t what you had in mind when we came up with the plan, and if it could get you in any trouble—”
“Stop. It can’t, and I’m the one who pushed this solution on you, so if anyone should feel bad, it’s me.”
“You didn’t—”
“Did. But the point is that neither of us foresaw TV segments and tours. No matter how careful you are, the risk is growing exponentially. It’s not a question of if you’ll be outed. It’s a question of when. Someone will recognize you. Someone will recognize Chris. We need to get ahead of that.”
Daphne swallowed. “Okay. I’ll notify my agent before the tour—”
“Not before the tour. It’s too soon, and it’d throw everyone into a tizzy. For now, don’t say anything to anyone except Chris. I need to deep-dive into this and find you an exit strategy.”
