1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

Chapter 103 The door is behind you

Michelle didn't give them much time to think.

He took the manuscript, walked to the window with his back to the two people, and looked down at the crowd that had not yet dispersed.

"Besides, who says I can only choose one of you?"

These words struck Murray and Harper like a thunderbolt.

They exchanged a glance, and saw the same shock and confusion in each other's eyes.

There are unwritten rules in the publishing industry.

The copyright of an important work is usually granted exclusively to a single publisher to guarantee its market value and promotional reach.

Does this young man intend to break this century-old ironclad rule?

Michelle turned around and glanced at the two of them.

Their eyes were calm and deep, as if they could see through all their schemes and ambitions.

"Mr. Murray, Mr. Harper, in my opinion, your requests do not conflict."

"Mr. Murray,"

Michelle first looked at this titan of British publishing.

What would you like?

Murray's mind works very fast.

He immediately composed himself and regained the professional demeanor of a bookseller king.

"The glory of 50 Albemarle Street. The acclaim of Buckingham Palace and the aristocracy."

"Very good." Michelle nodded.

"Mr. Harper."

"what?"

"And what do you want this time?"

Harper realized what was happening and puffed out her chest.

"A new market, millions of readers!"

"That's good too."

Michelle walked back from the window and stood in front of the coffee table.

"Then there's no conflict."

He picked up the manuscript and waved it in front of the two of them.

"Mr. Murray, the exclusive British and continental European distribution rights to The Great Gatsby are yours. I want it to be placed alongside Lord Byron's poetry collection, bound in the finest gold-embossed calfskin."

Murray raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. Harper, the North American paperback edition, newspaper serialization rights, and early proofs are yours. I want you to put this story in the pocket of every American using a steam press."

Harper's mouth was wide open.

"Wait," he said, holding up a finger.

"You mean, the two of us... should split up?"

"The Atlantic Ocean is wide enough." Michelle put the manuscript back on the coffee table.

"We can accommodate your ambitions. The European market and the North American market are two completely different markets."

"Mr. Murray's hardcover editions are sold to nobles and scholars, while Mr. Harper's paperback editions are sold to every household. Two lines, two price systems, without interfering with each other."

Murray and Harper exchanged a glance.

This plan—

It seems there is indeed no conflict.

But Murray, being a seasoned veteran, quickly grasped the crux of the problem: "Mr. Michel, this proposal sounds excellent, but what are the specific conditions?"

Michelle sat down again.

"Now, let's talk about my share of the profits."

"Profit sharing?" Harper frowned.

In the publishing world of 1837, there were no modern royalties; one-time buyouts were the most common practice.

The author sells the manuscript to the publisher, receives an advance payment, and then has nothing more to do with the book.

As for how many copies of the book were sold and how much money was made, that's the publisher's business.

Profit-sharing is a possible model, but it is extremely rare, and usually only the top writers are qualified to make this request.

Leaving aside others, let's take Charles Dickens, Michel's closest friend, as an example.

Dickens didn't receive modern royalties; instead, he used a hybrid model of "advance payment + profit sharing + copyright buyout."

His currently popular book, "The Pickwick Chronicles," comes with a monthly advance payment of £21, plus additional sales bonuses.

This prize money is the real highlight, amounting to a whopping £3000.

Otherwise, how could Dickens support his entire family, including his father who would come to beg for money every now and then?

After a few more years, once his fame was completely solidified, Dickens only signed profit-sharing agreements and refused to accept pure buyouts.

As for profit sharing, it's as high as 75%!

You heard right, the publisher bore all the costs, and Dickens took 75% of the net profit.

It's fair to say that top Victorian writers lived much more comfortably than one might imagine...

"I don't want a one-time buyout."

Michelle's tone was calm.

"For the UK market, I want a cut of the net profit."

"As for the US market, what I want is a cut from every print run. For every book sold, I take my share."

"The more books you print, the better they sell, the more money you make, and the more money I make."

Young man, do you know what you're saying?

Murray fell silent.

Harper also fell silent.

Both of them were calculating rapidly.

What does being split up mean?

This means that if the book becomes a classic, the author can continue to profit from it for five, ten, or even longer.

While publishers can still make money, their profit margins will be significantly reduced.

"What about percentages?" Murray asked first.

"Seventy percent of the net profit from each book."

"As for the US market, it's 15 percent of the price of each book."

"Too high."

Murray and Harper said those three words almost simultaneously.

Then they looked at each other and found that they had actually reached a rare consensus on this matter.

Michelle smiled.

"Just now, one of you offered 10,000 pounds, and the other offered 6,000 pounds. Now you're complaining that the profit sharing is too high?"

"The advance payment doesn't have to be that much, but every penny must be paid."

The two bigwigs were speechless for a long time.

"If you agree, have your lawyer come over now to draft a brand new contract that meets my requirements."

1

Michelle picked up her teacup and took the last sip.

"I disagree. The door is behind you."

The atmosphere in the room froze for almost half a minute.

Neither Murray nor Harper moved.

The door was indeed behind them, but no one glanced in that direction.

The reason is very simple.

They had all read Michel's manuscript.

As top figures in the publishing industry, this is enough for them to make a judgment.

It's hard to say how much this book will sell for, but it will definitely be remembered.

In the publishing industry, there are plenty of books that can make money, but only a handful of books will be remembered in an era.

Especially for Murray, who is already at this age, the temptation of going down in history is simply irresistible.

Murray was the first to relent.

It wasn't because he was convinced, but because he knew better than anyone else.

If The Great Gatsby wasn't published by Murray Books, it would have been published somewhere else.

By then, what will be missed will not just be a book, but an entire era.

Putting aside everything else, Chapman & Hall, the publishing house Dickens worked for, would certainly be willing to offer that price.

Many booksellers don't lack money; what they lack is a masterpiece that can make them go down in history!

"Fifty percent," Murray said, holding up one finger.

"Seventy." Michelle remained unmoved.

"Fifty-five."

"Sixty-five."

Michelle looked at him but didn't say anything.

Murray gritted his teeth.

Sixty is my bottom line.

"I can only offer a prepayment of £3000."

Sixty percent of the net profit from book publishing.

Michelle nodded; he found the proportions perfectly acceptable.

Unlike Chapman and Hall, this percentage is probably Murray Books' bottom line. Although Michelle was confident she could negotiate for an even higher percentage, "one should always leave room for maneuver."

Then, Michelle turned to look at Harper.

"And what about Mr. Harper?"

Michelle turned to look at Harper again.

Harper wiped the sweat from his brow, his mind racing with calculations...