Archive of Our Own ^beta

WANTED - CHILDREN’S BOOK EDITOR

MUST HAVE PRIOR EXPERIENCE EDITING, HIGH TOLERANCE FOR FEAR, NO FOOD ALLERGIES, KNOWLEDGE OF COMMON CODES, SOME WAY TO SEND AND RECEIVE MAIL. EDITOR WILL BE PAID A FAIR AMOUNT, WHICH IS TO BE DISCLOSED UPON ACCEPTING THE POSITION. IF YOU WISH TO APPLY, SEND AN ENVELOPE CONTAINING A CLIPPING OF THIS ADVERTISEMENT TO THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR OF THE RHETORICAL BUILDING. DO NOT INCLUDE YOUR NAME ANYWHERE ON THE ENVELOPE.

Moxie folded and unfolded the newspaper clipping, letting it slip through her fingers and settle on the desk she was sitting at. She had read it over hundreds of times, so even with it folded up in front of her she could still think over every word.

It had been three days since she read the ad in the newspaper. It had captivated her ever since, lingering in the back of her mind like a stain she couldn’t get out. Something about it was so very captivating, and she couldn’t really tell what.

Her first instinct was to take the job. She hadn’t been employed for almost a month, and rent was due soon. She had edited books before (they were all crime thrillers for adults, but children’s books couldn’t be too hard), she fit all the other requirements, and being paid “a fair amount” seemed appealing.

And then she started to actually think about it.

Some of the criteria seemed odd. Maybe “a high tolerance for fear” was because it was a horror book, but then again this was supposed to be for children. The code portion was also odd, but then again sometimes kid's books had some little code-breaking bits. But food allergies? What in the world did that have to do with books? And why was the application process so oddly complicated?

That was when she had decided she had enough of thinking and was going to go to bed. She tried to get sleep that night, but she couldn’t get that ad off her mind. It had been like that for the past three days, and it wasn’t very good for her focus. Potential employers didn’t like it much if you missed your interview and then came in late wearing an inside-out shirt.

Get scared later, she thought to herself, picking up the scrap of newsprint and unfolding it. She reached for an envelope from the box at the top of her desk and got the inkwell for her pen.

YOUR APPLICATION FOR THE POSITION OF EDITOR HAS BEEN ACCEPTED. PLEASE FIND ENCLOSED A SUMMARY OF WHAT YOU ARE TO BE EDITING, ALONG WITH DIRECTIONS ON HOW TO OBTAIN THE DRAFT YOU WILL BE EDITING AND HOW TO SEND IT BACK WHEN YOU HAVE FINISHED.

Moxie had practically screeched when she got the letter back. It was almost exactly a week after she sent her application, and the rather thick envelope had come in the mail for her along with an advertisement for a car and some forms for something or other that the government wanted from her. Moxie didn’t care much for the government.

When she sat down to read the letter, she expected something semi-routine. Some book about a group of silly little adventurous kids solving mysteries.

The further she got into the letter, the more she realized that she had gotten herself into something she probably shouldn't even know about. According to the (ridiculously long) letter, there were three children who had been orphaned in a fire that had been thrown into unfortunate situation after unfortunate situation, with a secret organization pulling the strings through the whole ordeal. The letter went into much more detail than Moxie really cared to read, and she wouldn’t believe a word of it if her childhood hadn’t been equally strange (not to mention she had plenty of experience with secret organizations messing things up). She began to feel a little bad for these kids, even if she didn’t know them.

She had noticed something else while reading the letter. The way the author rambled on and on, the way they defined words, the mentions of a “secret and mostly noble group”. It slowly started to dawn on her exactly who she was editing for, and it made her want to both throw the paper out the window and frame it. Even though she had realized early on, it still gave her quite the shock when she read what was at the very bottom of the last page.

With all due respect, Lemony Snicket

She didn’t even know she was crying until the tears started to hit the page. She had been looking at it, looking at his signature and his name and his “due respect”, for what had to have been at least five minutes. She was crying silently until she realized there were tears streaming down her cheeks, when she started doing something she would probably describe as very breathy sobbing.

He’s alive. He’s alive and he’s asking you for help. You get to help him again, just you and only you.

You shouldn’t get involved. He’s a murderer, he left you, you shouldn’t trust him. He doesn’t even know it’s you, he thinks you’re a stranger.

Thoughts swirled around in her head, faster than she could ever begin to process them. Her head hurt and all of her felt so heavy, and the tears just kept rolling down her face. The papers flew in countless directions as they hit the floor, but Moxie didn’t even notice. She put her face in her hands and let her thoughts spin.

To My Kind Editor, I am sorry that this paper is sopping wet, but I am writing it from the place the Quagmire triplets were hidden

Moxie squinted her eyes to read the smudged ink. It wasn’t uncommon at all that Lemony would send her messages with odd details like this, she had learned that from the

two-years-and-change she had been working as his editor. It was a very difficult job, with all the difficult hunts for the scattered drafts, but Lemony’s definition of “a fair salary” was incredibly generous. Moxie wondered if there was some sort of Snicket fortune, as that was the only way she could see a struggling author paying his editor this much. 

As she finished the letter, she felt the oh-so-familiar pang in her heart that came with every “All due regards, Lemony Snicket”. How could he give kind regards if he didn’t even know who he was regarding? It kept her awake at night, thinking about the fact that Lemony thought that his old friend Moxie Mallahan had forgotten about him. Every letter that came in, she had the overwhelming urge to write back saying that it was her, that she hadn’t forgotten about him. 

But she knew she couldn’t. There was some reason that Lemony didn’t want his editor’s name, whether it was emotional distance or safety or another reason entirely, and Moxie had to accept that she shouldn’t break the agreement he had set up with her. It wasn’t just because she would lose her job, it was because she would disappoint him. She had disappointed enough people already. 

So she kept going. She got her bag and tied her shoes, awaiting the next draft to edit and send back. At least she was helping, even if he couldn’t tell it was her doing the work. 

To My Kind Editor, 

It has been many years since I have written to you. My sincerest apologies.

Moxie couldn’t believe she was even reading these words. It had been four years since the last letter from Lemony. Part of her had thought that he died, although she pushed that idea aside. She had concluded that he just didn’t want to write books anymore, and seeing how depressing his subject matter, she wouldn’t blame him. She had cried at the end of the last draft he gave her, although that was nobody’s business except her own. She eagerly continued reading the letter in her hands. 

I took a short break from writing children’s novels, as you could tell. I had a great many personal things that were clouding my mind. I write to you again to tell you I wish to publish a new series, and for you to be my editor once more. You truly are good at what you do. 

She smiled a bit at his remark. Oh, how much money she would pay to see Lemony’s face when he realized that his editor was that little spunky journalist he knew when he was twelve. It made her feel that young again to read his words, even though she was nearing the grand age of- well, it was rude for a lady to reveal her age. Was that how the saying went? Regardless, she enjoyed remembering her time as a child, even if it wasn’t that enjoyable of a time. 

The subject matter of this new series will be very similar to A Series Of Unfortunate Events, in that it is a true story of a group of intelligent children with various parental issues fighting evil. I admit I do not know you, I only know the scribbles you make in my margins, but one of the children reminds me quite a bit of you. Maybe it’s just the nostalgia blinding me. 

Where did Lemony keep finding all these unfortunate children? Moxie wondered. Was it because of VFD? She was a little saddened to know that she would have to read through another story of sad children, although she kept going. 

This series will be entitled All The Wrong Questions and will follow the events I encountered at the age of about 12 in a town called Stain'd-By-The-Sea.

“ Oh, no, ” she whispered, the paper slipping from her hands and gently floating to the floor.