Shakespeare's Social Media Manager

Manuscript stolen from my apartment. Called police. Filed report. Two weeks later, detective showed up. "We recovered your property." "You found the thief?" "We found your manuscript." "Wonderful! Where was it?" "In evidence. We all read it." He placed it on the table. "We're returning it." "Any leads on the burglar?" "Ma'am, we found nothing of value at the crime scene."

Query sent: January. Response: December. Full text of response: "Pass." Four letters. Twelve months. Ratio: Three letters per quarter. Efficient agency. Respecting everyone's time.

"Your opening needs a hook." Added hook. "Not a literal— why is chapter one entirely about fishing?" "You said hook." "Metaphorical hook." "Page two is about metaphors. Also fishing metaphors."

Author bio: "Lives with cat." Cat's version: "I live alone. He exists nearby. Occasionally brings food. Acceptable arrangement. Will not be acknowledging him in my memoir."

Workshop critique: "Deus ex machina! Lazy writing!" Fine. Revised. Made god's appearance earned. God appeared in chapter 19. Looked around. Pulled out paperwork. "I've unionized," he said. "Speaking fee is 3000. Miracle fee is 8000. Saving protagonist from poor planning is 15000 plus residuals." Protagonist died. Workshop approved.

Book signing day. Arrived early. Table: ready. Pens: uncapped. Books: stacked. Two hours later. Table: ready. Pens: still uncapped. Books: still stacked. No people came. Except the chair. The chair came. The chair stayed. The chair saw everything. I don't use that chair anymore. It knows too much.