Alex came home to the convent again for Thanksgiving, and for the Christmas holiday and semester break, and she had a chance to write then. She had an idea for a novel, but decided to wait until the summer when she had more time.
Her classes were keeping her busy. But in spare moments between assignments, she worked on the outline for the book, which was gnawing at her loudly by spring. She knew she had a story in her, and had to get it out. She couldn’t wait for her classes to end in May to start the book. She vacated her room at the dorm, since she would get a new room in a different dorm in the fall, and moved back to the convent. Her first night back, she started work on the novel, which had been developing in her head for months. She worked day and night for the first three weeks and hardly left her room, and she had several chapters written before she began a summer job in a bookshop that specialized in rare books and first editions. Her father had bought books there frequently, and they were impressed by her knowledge, and offered her the job for two months.
She came home from work and wrote every night, and in the last week of August she finished the first draft of her book. It was perfect timing, since she was going back to school the following week. Alex sat staring at four hundred pages of manuscript in her hands the night she finished. She was nineteen years old and had just written her first book. She was so excited she could hardly breathe, and couldn’t sleep all night, thinking about it.
She saw Mother MaryMeg at breakfast the next day, who commented that she looked like she’d had a rough night. To her knowledge, Alex still had no social life. She preferred to spend every moment on her book, and was more interested in writing than dating.
“I finished the book last night, the first draft,” she said, looking awestruck. She felt as though someone else had done it, channeling through her. Her father maybe. Another writer. Someone. She couldn’t believe she’d done it, and felt a little lost without the book to work on. The final weeks had been intense, and she’d worked until three or four A.M. every night, and until dawn occasionally, and then showered and dressed for work. She’d finished her job at the bookshop a few days before, and now the book.
The mother superior smiled at her, impressed by her dedication. There was no question that Alex was a writer. It was in her bones and her blood, a force she couldn’t stop and didn’t want to. “Would you read it for me?” Alex asked in a low voice. “I don’t know if it’s any good or not, or if I should just throw it away.” She’d had her doubts about it several times, and needed someone to read it objectively now. She knew that her work upset Sister Xavier, and mysteries didn’t interest Sister Regina, but Mother MaryMeg was always curious about her work.
“I’m sure it’s very good, Alex. I’d love to read it.” Twenty minutes later, Alex was in her office with the ragged manuscript in her hands. She had made many corrections and changes, and the pages were a mess. She handed it to the superior, who took it from her and set it on her desk. “I’ll start it tonight,” she promised. Alex would have been relieved to see her light on until three in the morning. Alex slept like a baby that night, free at last of the story that had pounded through her and tormented her for months.
She noticed that the superior looked tired the next day, but didn’t dare ask what she thought of it so far. She was sure that she would hate it, or tell Alex she had gone too far this time. It was a strong book, with a terrifying story and multiple mysteries to solve, and had been difficult to write, like riding five horses at once in a circus act and not losing control.
Two days later, Alex was talking to Regina quietly after breakfast when the superior walked by and asked Alex to come and see her in her office. Alex and Regina exchanged glances. Regina looked panicked, afraid that Mother MaryMeg had guessed that she was having doubts about her vows. The mother superior always knew everything as though she had a sixth sense. Alex was subdued when she walked into her office a few minutes later.
“I should be angry at you,” Mother MaryMeg said seriously, as Alex sat down across from her. “I haven’t slept in three days, thanks to your book.” As she said it, Alex started to look relieved, but not entirely yet. She wanted to know what she’d thought of it. “It’s extraordinary, Alex. One of the best books I’ve ever read. It’s bound to get published, and will certainly get your career going as a writer. You have to get it to a publisher.” Alex looked stunned by what she was saying.
“You liked it?” Her voice was an anxious whisper as the mother superior smiled broadly.
“I loved it. Or I was mesmerized by it and totally in its grip. I’m not sure ‘love’ is the right word for a book with such heinous people in it, but your plot is brilliant, and the way you control it is masterful. I don’t know where you get the stories from, but it’s remarkable. You need to get it to a publisher. It’s a very, very powerful book.”
“I can’t get it to a publisher without an agent,” she said miserably, “and I don’t know how to find one. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. A publisher won’t take it seriously unless it comes through an agent. They might not even read it without one.”
That sounded harsh to Mother MaryMeg, but she took Alex at her word, and wondered how she could find one.
“And an agent will know who would want to publish a book like mine.”
“Let me think about it, and try to figure out who I know, or someone else does. Somebody must know a literary agent.” She handed the book back to Alex, congratulated her again, and told her she’d see what she could find out.
Alex walked upstairs to her room, dazed by what Mother MaryMeg had said about the book. Regina stuck her head out as soon as Alex walked past her door. “Did she say anything about me? Was it that?” she whispered nervously.
“No, she liked the book. She said I should get it to a publisher, but I don’t know how.” Sister Regina looked instantly relieved, and apologized for leaping at her.