Fantasy Writers 1860

That's right, sales figures.

As a professional editor, sufficient literary skills are enough; the most important thing is business acumen.

This is especially true for tabloids like the Lontinion Weekly, which primarily targets the general public.

Ordinary people don't pay money to read your analyses of philosophy, thought, or technology; that's for publications like The Little Britannian and The Art of Poetry, which cater to the upper-middle class and aristocracy.

Over the years, Clancy has witnessed too many newspapers that rose and fell because they couldn't figure out their own place, as well as all sorts of "literary youth writers."

Dorian once belonged to this group of "literary youth writers".

They write obscure and difficult texts, calling themselves great writers, yet they can't even receive rejection letters from reputable literary journals. They can only resort to submitting their work to places like these, and after being rejected, they curse themselves for being manipulated by capital and buried by this dark world.

If you want to become a writer, hone your writing skills and submit your work to publications like "Fiction" and "Britanian Literary Monthly." If you want to write for a publication of your own caliber, study what the general public likes to read and choose your niche carefully.

But it seems like this guy has finally figured it out?

Did he bleed himself to summon some evil god who would grant him wisdom?

It must be said that these jokes are really high-level; you absolutely couldn't come up with them without some intelligence or talent.

In the past, jokes were either vulgar or too straightforward. This one takes a detour, requires a little thought to appreciate its charm, and leaves a lingering impression after the laughter, prompting some reflection. Such a concise, succinct, yet profound and witty joke is truly the first of its kind that Clancy has encountered in his many years in the industry.

This coincides with what he has only recently become vaguely aware of: a subtle change in the audience. Vulgar and straightforward content can no longer satisfy them; even the most marginalized people are now yearning for the feeling of thinking.

"Um, Mr. Clancy, look at what I wrote..." Seeing Clancy's dramatic shift from laughter to deep thought, Dorian was somewhat frightened.

No, they're just a few jokes, is it really that big of a deal?

Has he gone mad?

Dorian never intended to become a famous writer by writing a few Soviet jokes; he just wanted to earn some money to survive.

"Good, very good... wonderful... simply... simply a work of genius!" Clancy finally caught his breath and realized that the original author was still sitting in front of him.

"Mr. Dorian, your jokes have been used by our magazine, and I will have them appear in the next issue... no, this issue of the Londinion Weekly."

Before Clancy could finish speaking, a young editor sitting to his left suddenly said, "Mr. Clancy, have you forgotten? This issue of the *Lentinion Weekly* is already finished and sent to the printing press for printing. And now you're saying you're adding content… Mr. Saul, why are you stepping on my foot?"

Before he could finish speaking, a middle-aged man standing next to him nudged him, signaling him to stop talking.

However, the young editor didn't seem to grasp this point.

The editor-in-chief was just expressing his interest, but what if he takes it seriously now that you've done this?

Over the years, he has met quite a few authors with such stubborn minds. It has to be said that people involved in literature and art are all somewhat eccentric.

"There should still be time. This content must be published as quickly as possible." Clancy thought about it carefully, and nodded slightly after deciding there were no problems.

Thor: "?"

When did Editor-in-Chief Clancy become so stubborn? Why does he really insist on publishing it in this issue?

"Adding content now? That will incur additional costs for the redesign, and that's part of our expenses..." Thor couldn't believe his ears.

"I believe these jokes are absolutely worth it..." Clancy picked up the piece of paper on the table and handed it to Saul. "I'm sure you'll agree with me after you read it."

"Just a joke?" Thor took the paper, his mind filled with doubt.

Thor frowned and looked down at the pages in his hand.

He quickly glanced at it and thought the text was unremarkable; it was just a few simple questions and answers. This kind of joke wasn't anything groundbreaking.

Filled with suspicion and a hint of impatience, Saul began to read slowly, word by word, trying to find the "brilliance" that Editor Clancy had mentioned.

"Um, about the royalties..." Dorian gave a shy smile, afraid they might have forgotten about the royalties.

"Mr. Dorian, do you have any more jokes like this?" Dorian's hand touched Clancy's again, but this time it was Clancy who did it first.

"Yes, actually I have many more ideas..." Dorian said.

"In that case, we can definitely sign a long-term contract." Clancy instantly revealed a warm smile, while skillfully taking out a stack of already bound documents from the drawer.

"Hahaha..." At the same time, Mr. Thor suddenly burst into unrestrained laughter.

……

Across from the editorial office of the Lentinion Weekly, there is a café of moderate size, with a gray-blue awning extending from the eaves into the street, under which several tables and chairs are arranged in a staggered manner.

A gentleman stood up from his chair, put down the newspaper that almost covered his entire upper body, left a few coins on the table, and leisurely left.

She gently pressed the brim of her tall silk hat, seemingly out of habit, wanting to slightly obscure her face.

Only after confirming that the young man tightly wrapped in a tattered trench coat had completely disappeared at the end of the alley did she slowly walk into the lobby of the small building.

"You mean you want the original manuscript that young man just submitted? Uh... that's possible, but..." A well-dressed gentleman, completely out of place in this chaotic editorial office, stood in front of Clancy and made a request that Clancy couldn't understand.

The handsome gentleman didn't say anything, but simply laid out several large, gleaming gold coins on Clancy's table.

"...However, sir, your taste is truly unique and impressive. Please wait a moment, our people are copying it down. After all, that gentleman submitted his work to our publication so that it could be published here." Clancy casually swiped the few large coins on the table under it.

Before long, Clancy handed the gentleman the tattered, crumpled manuscript paper stained with a few drops of blood.

The gentleman gave a slight bow in thanks and left without looking back.

"Six Ducat gold coins! That's a full three gold pounds!" Saul exclaimed. "Editor Clancy, who is this guy who came to submit his manuscript today? He just left, and now someone's offering three gold pounds for a single piece of paper?!"

"I don't know, but judging from the gentleman's expression, he probably doesn't want us to know." Clancy quietly put away the six Ducati gold coins.

Meanwhile, Dorian clutched his first payment tightly and hurried back, fearing that something might happen that would destroy his last hope.

"One line costs 1.5 as. This time, the manuscript fee is 54 as 6 gui. After paying off the 53 as 7 gui owed, there will be 13 gui left. That's enough to buy... 13 more sheets of paper."