Bestseller

By Mariuccia Milla

Indie Author Debuts with Bestselling Cli-Fi Novel!

That’s the headline Felix Ryder is dreaming of, the one that will turn his life around. Searching for the winning formula, he spends his days researching marketing hacks and apps promoted by the self-publishing maven, David Dill.

Felix’s narcissistic personality and obsession with success at all costs puts his best friend Andy on edge and his wife Natalie at the end of her rope as they try to save Felix from himself. Throw in the influence of their polyamorous neighbor Aimee and you have the perfect cocktail.

Unbridled confidence leads Felix to put his cli-fi (climate fiction) flood story on preorder just as severe rainstorms pummel half the country, sending his book into bestseller territory. It also sends Felix into a panic because he hasn’t written it.

How will his novel’s characters, Clive and Jerry, fight the forces of the Tier One oligarchs, escape prison, and get to the town of Lakebed before the floodwaters overtake Clive’s family? Will Felix keep from drowning himself?

And how will Natalie survive Felix’s obnoxious behavior while dealing with the kidnapping, homelessness, and fantasy that are part of daily life in their seemingly quiet suburban neighborhood?

Whether you’re an indie author or not, you’ll enjoy this satirical poke at the world of self-publishing. “Bestseller” exposes the intense, soul-sucking experience of newbie authors in their quest for success and relevance in the digital age.

Get it now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: Nov 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781706226291

Mariuccia Milla

Mariuccia Milla (AKA Mary Scipioni) left New York at age 25 to spend eighteen years in Italy. In addition to living in Milan, where she was immersed in the design community (architects as well as product, fashion, and graphic designers), Mariuccia lived in Viareggio (coastal Tuscany) and in the vicinty of Lago Maggiore in the Piedmont region.She is currently practicing landscape architecture in the Finger Lakes Region of New York, as well as publishing fiction books and nonfiction essays.Mariuccia will be returning to Italy to do more writing, and plans to travel back and forth.And, despite the fact that it drives her crazy some times, she loves Italy.You can also follow Mariuccia on Instagram: @mariumilla.

Book preview

Author

A black SUV expelled David Dill

Stuck in jail for stealing a tomato from the Urban Food Factory, Clive is trying to avoid transfer to the medium-security branch of State Prison, which has no air conditioning. Last July’s temperature averaged 102 Fahrenheit and as a result, a dozen prisoners, allowed only four ounces of water per day, died of dehydration. Until now Clive had been able to avoid this threat due to his superior ability at cultivating cucumbers, a favorite among those of Tier One, the oligarchs who had taken official control of the country.

His cellmate, Jerry, a burned Climate Intelligence Officer incarcerated for identifying the Viking Oscillation Pattern and therefore responsible for a massive expatriation of funds to Greenland for agricultural development, is working on a plan to get them out. They need to get to Lakebed to protect their families before the next tsunami hits the east coast.

But will they get there in time?

Felix ran his hand through his hair, looked at his watch, sighed, and slammed his laptop shut. He would have to rush to get to the presentation now. He grabbed his jacket and started along the sidewalk, shouldering past women with strollers, kids texting, and a nincompoop who couldn’t figure out where he was going. By the time Felix got to The Self Pub, there was a line outside the door. Now he probably wouldn’t be able to get the front row seat he needed to make eye contact with David Dill.

As his mood began to sour, he caught sight of his friend Andy, who was wildly scooping the air with his hand. Felix had enlisted his participation because Andy went along with everything and was extremely punctual.

I was worried about you, Andy said.

I was working on my book blurb, and I lost track of time, said Felix.

I thought you hadn’t started it yet. The book, I mean.

What a dunderhead, Felix thought. Andy didn’t understand that there was no sense writing a book without having a great blurb, one that would knock everyone’s socks off. He took Andy by his upper arm and started to push him through the door. They made their way to the front of the room where tan metal folding chairs were arranged and sat in the first row. Display tables stacked with books had been pulled aside, making it difficult for lingering customers to circulate.

Outside, a black SUV expelled David Dill, in aviator shades, an old leather jacket and the latest drop of athleisure kicks. His assistant was a short woman with ombre hair that went from silver to gun-metal gray. She was dressed in black and wore red lipstick and black-framed specs. She forged a path to the podium wearing a stingy smile as David Dill coughed and nodded to nobody in particular.

Well, he said, scanning the room. I’m so glad to be here with all of you at The Self Pub, this town’s first brick-and-mortar store exclusively for indie books.

Applause and whistles followed.

I mean, who would have thought that something like this could happen after the Anaconda phenomenon? But thanks to your participation and support, places like The Self Pub have become important resources for the writer community, offering you editorial and design support, marketing courses, book club meeting rooms, and events like these to promote your success as indie authors.

The owner, sitting in the front row, raised her hand.

We'll also have our recording studio operating next month.

David Dill raised his eyebrows and nodded. What are you going to do, audiobooks?

Yes, but we’re also starting a podcast to feature our authors, she replied.

Uh, oh, some competition! David Dill said. "By the way, how many of you subscribe to my podcast, Dilligent?

A dozen hands went up.

And how many of you have reviewed it?

He looked at the audience and shook his head.

"What’s that? Four or five? C’mon, guys, you’ve gotta go to the site and tell us what you think, honestly. We want to keep offering you expertise and success stories so you can quit your day jobs!"

More applause followed.

Felix’s problem was that he didn’t have a day job, not anymore.

David Dill began his talk, The Ultimate Genre Hack. The slide on the screen displayed the names of book categories in brightly colored text boxes. Arrows connected each of these to other colored boxes showing subcategories, which in turn linked to a third column of boxes representing niches. On the next slide, which was animated, the niche boxes exploded into micro-niches like candy broken into multicolored pieces.

Felix wondered whether cli-fi was a subcategory or a niche. He had considered sci-fi, but with the plethora of titles in that category–not to mention all the catastrophic weather events threatening–cli-fi was the way to go. That’s what he had read in a blog.

David Dill cleared his throat to speak.

You all know, I’m sure, that for your book to be a bestseller, you only need to be the at the top of your niche. So, how do you do that? You have to write to the hottest category, and then search for a more specific subcategory. If you comb through the subcategories, you’ll find the bestseller in each. Then you need to determine how many copies of that book were purchased. You can do that by getting the book’s sales rank and putting the number into our Dilligent Kalculator and voilà! David Dill clicked his clicker, showing a dummy result on the next slide.

"The whole point is to find a subcategory with low sales for its top seller. Then, write a new angle into your story. The good news is that you don’t need to reinvent the wheel: simply look at other subcategories to find their new niches. When you recognize a distinguishing angle, transfer that into your subcategory to create a new niche."

The audience of would-be authors gave David Dill blank stares.

Here’s an example: Let’s say you write ‘romance, historical,’ and you think you can compete with the bestseller in the subcategory, ‘romance, historical, western.’ Now, all you need to do is add something new to that, like ‘time travel.’ So now you’ve got the only book in the ‘romance, historical, western, time travel’ niche. Put the book on preorder, get your street team to buy some copies, do some advertising on Anaconda, and you’re on your way.

Felix took notes so that he could make sense later of everything David Dill said. The audience murmured and rustled. Andy grabbed the sides of the seat of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

Don’t worry, folks! David Dill resumed. I’m going to walk you through the whole process. The link to the free Dilligent Kalculator is on my subscriber page, so make sure you sign up while you’re there, okay?

After the talk, Felix and Andy went to the coffee shop. Andy was quiet in the edgy way he had, so Felix sent him to get a table while he stood in line to order. Andy found a wobbly table for two in the corner. He was having one of his moments, so he sat down and took several slow, deep breaths. Then he folded a cup sleeve in two and wedged it under one of the table legs to make the wobbling stop.

Do you think, he said to Felix as he took his coffee, that the earth could ever leave its orbit and hurtle into space?

Not this again! Felix replied. I told you that it couldn’t happen. It never will.

But if it did, would all of the people just fall off? Andy looked down, wrapping his hand around the warm cup. It was embarrassing to ask these questions, and sometimes Felix was intolerant. But he needed reassurance; he had no choice.

Look, let’s focus on something else. That usually helps. Here. Felix swung his open laptop around to show Andy his book blurb.

Andy read it, moving his eyes right and left in forced concentration.

I’d use ‘languishing’ instead of ‘stuck’ in jail, Andy said. Languishing was a good word, one that described how Andy felt these days. His distrust about the earth and his groundedness on it made him feel dispirited.

Felix took the laptop and looked at the text. He typed, hit Enter, then sat back, sipping his coffee.

Here’s the thing, he said. Languishing is an SAT word. People only search for it to find out what it means. ‘Stuck,’ on the other hand, is searched more often because it’s the beginning of many phrases ...

"Like Stuck in the Middle with You," Andy offered. That was an old song he liked.

Sure, Felix said. He looked at Andy, trying to reconcile his sometimes-brilliant insights with his phobia, then decided it was more than he could handle. He liked Andy, felt sorry for him even, but Felix had to get this book written and that had to be his primary focus. He didn’t want to let Natalie down. She was the best wife a guy could have.

On his way home, Felix thought about how Natalie had left the ad agency two years ago to start her own business. She was able to do that because he still had his job, of course. Everything was okay until Felix lost his position to outsourcing. Now it was his turn to depend on her. Fortunately, her company was doing well. That was because she knew all about niches and micro-niches. Of course, Nat had the advantage of having worked in advertising. It’s hard to miss out on trends in that business. He could have done great at an agency himself except for the fact that he never pursued it. There was something cozy about working for a global corporation. It was real and tangible, and at the same time, nobody asked you for any details about your job. He should have seen it coming—the layoff—but he hadn’t, so now he was an author, which was the absolute best thing Felix could do given all the ideas he had been nurturing in his cubicle all those years.

Felix wanted to be more like Natalie. She knew right where she needed to be with a campaign. Now he needed to show her that he got marketing. Why, he had already purchased a half-dozen apps to help him analyze book niches, discover keywords, correct his grammar, find reviewers, A-B test his cover art, and ... what was the other one he just got? Well, anyway, so far, he had invested hundreds of dollars in subscriptions for indie authors, and if that wasn’t a guarantee, well, he didn’t know what was!

Maybe she has a lot of friends

Natalie was watering the hanging plants on the front porch when Felix pulled into the driveway. She was letting off steam after a call with one of her clients. The air was cooling down and tending to her petunias was good therapy.

Her neighbor, Aimee, waved from her porch, at the respectful distance that suburban neighborhoods provide to prevent excessive socialization. Natalie wondered about Aimee. There was always a different car in her driveway in addition to her own. She was no longer married and had no kids, although she did go out regularly, possibly to a job. Sometimes Natalie would see a guy pull in and unload groceries, or another mowing the lawn (this she only noticed because it disturbed her during the day). She wasn’t quite sure which, if any, of the guys belonged to Aimee. The grocery guy was youthful and athletic. The lawn mowing man was distinguished, with a receding hairline and trendy eyeglasses. The attention Aimee received incited a certain degree of envy in Natalie’s heart.

Felix pulled into the driveway, smiling when he saw his wife watering the flowers. It was such a picturesque, homey scene. He took out his phone and snapped a photo.

When I become famous, I’ll need shots like this on social media to show that I’m a regular guy.

Natalie wanted to pour some water over his head, but she wasn’t quite sure he was serious. There was a fine line between conformist and cynical. Although Natalie didn’t lack the discernment to understand her husband, she needed to maintain her belief in him despite the little red flags. Felix had been there for her after she quit the agency, and now he was the vulnerable one. The structure of their household could not bear the fall of a single card.

How was the event? Natalie asked.

It was great! Felix responded. David Dill is such a good resource! He even offered to be a guest on The Self Pub podcast. And he has a new service called Chapter One.

How much will that cost?

"Not sure yet. There’s a trial enrollment till the end of the month if you subscribe to the Dilligent podcast."

The arrival of a car next door caught Natalie’s eye. Sure enough, an attractive man carrying flowers stepped out.

Don’t you ever wonder, she said to Felix, what’s going on over there?

Maybe she has a lot of friends.

But they’re all guys.

So, she’s dating!

But they all keep coming back.

Listen, Nat, I’d love to chat about the neighbors, but I have got to get a chapter written so I can take advantage of David Dill’s new service.

Felix kissed Natalie on the cheek and asked, What’s for dinner?

Today is Wednesday. You’re in charge, remember?

Oh, right! Felix thought for a minute, then added, Do you mind if I invite Andy over? He looked a little down today.

Sure.

Natalie sat on the wicker chair purchased from Pottery Barn, fulfilled by Anaconda. She put her feet up on the matching ottoman, thinking that she should order replacement slipcovers before Anaconda drove the manufacturer out of business altogether. She waited for the inevitable arrival of Andy with takeout from Taj Mahal.

Her efforts to not-think were interrupted by the sight of him pulling into the driveway. He came up the porch steps and sat down in the other armchair.

Thanks for having me, Natalie, he said, embarrassed.

You’re always welcome, Andy. Thank you for picking up our dinner. How are things going?

Andy’s lips quivered a little. Pretty well.

Come on. I can see you’re upset.

It’s just the same old thing, he answered. In certain situations, I start to lose it. My throat closes up, and then, my legs feel like they have a life of their own. When that happens, I have to sit somewhere protected. I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t control it.

Natalie squeezed his hand. How do you feel right now?

Oh, I always feel okay when I’m around you. He looked up at the sky and continued, Women, in general, make me feel safer. Maybe I should bring the food inside before it gets cold.

No worries. Felix is all hot about writing his first chapter.

She paused, then added, You know, Andy, I feel safer around you, too.

Natalie pushed herself up from the armchair with her hands, looked over at her neighbor’s house, and led the way inside.

Felix was tapping away on his laptop, which he had set on the smooth granite counter, waiting for the food to arrive.

How’s chapter one coming along? Natalie asked.

Oh, I’m still working on the blurb. I have to run the word strings through the keyword app, which is giving me some amazing suggestions!

Shouldn’t you write at least part of the story before doing the description?

That’s what I thought, Andy offered.

Natalie brought the plates over. I hope you got some chicken biryani.

Of course! said Andy.

The thing is, said Felix, helping himself to some rice, I’m having a little trouble getting the story started. So, I wanted to reverse-engineer it from the blurb.

There it was again, thought Natalie. A little red flag, waving uncertainly.

In what genre are you writing? Have you decided?

I want to write a cli-fi. Everyone says it’s the next big thing. I got some ideas for my blurb online, but I need to do more research.

Natalie mused. You know, I have a new client, a nonprofit focused on climate change awareness. They want to develop an educational program for elementary schools. We’re working on a simple game where the children input weather data and see the outcome in animated charts. Anyway, I’ve got lots of information if you need it.

That’s nice, honey, but I’m going to need something for an adult audience.

Andy knit his eyebrows. You could still structure it like a fairy tale and make the weather be like the Big Bad Wolf.

Felix’s dismissive expression morphed to delight when Natalie said, That’s not a bad idea!

Felix said, Andy, you’re a genius. He spooned a dollop of dahl onto his plate. He tried to remember some of the stories he had heard as a child, but he could only think of Hansel and Gretel.

But there was something there. I mean, Felix thought, that was definitely a bestseller.

Andy no longer felt safe

Andy’s wife Lucy died of breast cancer at the age of thirty-two. Andy had been working as a nurse at the university hospital and decided to care for her at home during the last weeks. He had taken an extended family leave, followed by a leave of absence that so far had lasted eight months. He had tried to resign, but his supervisor convinced him to take a full year of unpaid leave with benefits because good male nurses were hard to find.

Andy was the beneficiary of Lucy’s life insurance policy. It was the only thing that consoled her after she fell ill. The first thing she did, after a long cry in Andy’s arms, was to put the premiums on auto pay from a dedicated bank account that drew from her savings, which in turn was backed up by her father’s bank. Her savings account never had a chance to run dry.

After the news of Lucy’s illness, Andy asked to be transferred to oncology so he could be near the victims to whom he felt the closest. He would cry about his patients on his drive home every day, hoping to have run out of tears when Lucy’s turn came. He always had a smile for her in those last days that were so other-worldly.

Andy felt numb in the weeks after Lucy was gone, only releasing his grief when he saw an older gentleman struggling at an intersection, a child stomping on an insect, or crows picking at roadkill. And then, the thing with his legs started happening. And the earth hurtling into space. He had read all about centrifugal and centripetal forces: one pulled the Earth toward the sun, and the other toward Space (he couldn’t remember which was which), thus keeping it in its orbit. Andy no longer felt safe from the pull into oblivion.

Felix, and especially Natalie, had been so good to him, and Andy felt he was slowly recovering from his loss. They say it takes a year, the same amount of time the earth needs to revolve around the sun in a balance between those opposing forces. He, too, was hoping to regain balance.

When he got home from dinner, the apartment was dark. He went inside and sat on the living room couch. He reached for his phone to check his email, even though he suspected there wouldn’t be any messages and discovered that he had left his cellphone at Felix’s house. He remembered he had set it on the table of the porch and