I know an author.

Yes, I do know an actual author Her name is Julie

Julie is my mother’s friend, because her children are friends with my siblings. Over this past summer, we went up to their cottage with them to celebrate The 4 th Of July. I will tell the story, she told me.

The story. She had finished writing a simple manuscript for a book. A simple book, fantasy, I think it had something about a blue boy, and a flying refrigerator, (I don’t know, memory fails all of us sometimes.) She found a publisher, when reading about him, she learned that he looks forward to helping to publish fictional books, fantasy books, you get it. Julie sent the manuscript to him, after thinking ‘well, he’ll probably really like it.’ Well, guess who, a week later, got a letter, not even written with care, about how he DOESN’T want to publish fantasy books, and how he is looking for informational. Who asked why, when she read what he wrote about what he wants to publish, it said he was looking for fiction, and got an answer of the fact that he just didn’t bother updating it. That’s right, she did