Chapter 72
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Backlist Outreach
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“I’ll look into it.”
Back in my room, I drafted some emails to send to a few publishers.
Most publishers publicly list email addresses where they accept submissions, so I just sent them there.
「Hello. This is Jeong Hyun-woo, president of Memento Mori. With the launch of our Talent Market platform, we’re exploring collaboration opportunities with various companies.」
There wouldn’t be any new works from them. They couldn’t ignore their relationships with existing platforms, and many ongoing serials were tied up in exclusive contracts anyway.
But what about old works?
‘Not every reader follows ongoing serials.’
Sure, some fans wait eagerly day by day, but there are always those who only seek out completed stories.
I’m the impatient type myself, so I prefer finished ones.
Web novels make their biggest profits during serialization anyway. If another platform picks up distribution for backlist titles, the authors get another revenue stream—no harm in that.
‘The trick is convincing them.’
All platforms prioritize promoting ongoing serials to draw in readers. But every novel eventually ends, and once it becomes backlist, it gets pushed aside by the new releases.
‘I can’t meet every author individually, so I’ll focus on major publishers.’
The idea had come to me because I remembered the Team Leader mentioning something like this.
【Subscription services will soon take hold. With more web novel authors, competition is heating up. Submit a hundred works for review, and only one passes—the other ninety-nine have nowhere to go. Platforms are emerging to service those ninety-nine.】
Of course, he hadn’t said it to help us out.
【You all need to be that one work. The moment you’re lumped in with those ninety-nine, what do you think happens to all the effort I’ve put into you? Tense up. Got it?】
The bastard always had a precise grasp of market dynamics. Back then, I’d thought:
‘Novels are so subjective.’
There’s no guarantee the one that passes review will be a hit. A mega success could come from those other ninety-nine.
Click.
I sent the emails to the publishers and leaned back in my chair.
Thinking about the Team Leader stirred something boiling inside me again, but the info he’d dropped was useful all the same.
‘Competition isn’t that fierce yet.’
In ten years, popular genres like romance fantasy hit 300-to-1 odds. Three hundred novels submitted, and two hundred ninety-nine never even reach readers—they just fade away.
It gets that cutthroat because the environment allows web novel authors to make real money.
‘Will it speed up because of me?’
Money draws people. In a capitalist society, you can’t ignore earnings when picking a career.
Authors used to evoke images of starvation, but as star authors rake in eight-figure incomes, web novel and webtoon creators will become objects of envy.
Tap tap tap.
No external schedule today, so I wrote my novel with a clear mind.
Yoo Jin-seong was busier than me, making it harder to catch his face than snag a star from the sky, but better busy than idle—I was cheering him on in spirit.
‘Today’s flowing nicely.’
Since returning from hell, I’d been churning out six chapters a day. Pushing it, eight; going all out, ten. But to maintain the pace, I kept to sensible limits.
A volume’s twenty-five chapters, so six a day meant a hundred eighty a month.
No weekends for me, no real days off squandered on play, so over seven volumes monthly. The other day’s launch of The Strongest Idol Ever was nearing the end of season one already.
I could wrap it up, but I’d see how Black Ink’s debut and drama panned out before deciding on season two.
‘This week at the academy, I’ll emphasize how much you gain by writing fast and steady.’
Writing well matters. But getting good takes time inevitably.
During that stretch, just shut up and produce volume. It becomes your deadliest weapon later, when you’re firing on all cylinders, pumping out chapters daily.
It’s not just about quantity. One chapter today? Simple plot suffices. Four? Broader thinking required. That sharpens and expands your mind, freeing you to grasp the big picture.
Essential skill for epic-length authors.
‘Speed, stamina, insight.’
Grab those three at the academy, and any author transforms like me in no time. Trust it.
I did.
We all did.
He scowled at the report his deputy brought.
“Memento Mori?”
“Yes. You know, the Maknae Son of a Gangster author.”
“I know. But what’s this?”
“Probably building their platform.”
“Why help them and risk backlash from other platforms?”
“We could at least hear them out, right? Contracting one work wouldn’t hurt much.”
PDs in this industry jumped companies often. Sometimes for recognition, sometimes when their firm faltered—no replacement otherwise if a PD bails or crashes out.
He’d returned the same way.
“...Not a bad idea. But would that author sign?”
“That’s why I figured meet first. Worth talking, no?”
Stars existed among authors—and PDs.
He was one, active on Nowunuri and Hitel fantasy boards as a high schooler, diving into publishing at twenty.
“Fine. Contact them. Rumors say his next work’s getting dramatized—tie one in with us, and we’re golden.”
Deputy out, he stepped outside too. Balcony for smoking.
“...Hoo...”
Smoke scattered over Seoul. From up here, it all seemed his, but the world wasn’t so easy.
“Should’ve nabbed him then...”
He muttered. Memento Mori haunted him with regret, twisting his guts.
Too big to touch now. The bigger, the more it burned.
Tsk.
When Opera Wrong exposed Memento Mori, shock hit hard. Contact then might’ve cornered him.
Regret was poison—he knew that.
Authors keep spawning. He ruled now, but thrones shift; make the next king, done.
“Oh? Hello!”
Familiar voice from behind.
“Ah, long time.”
“Heard you were back. Who’d guess Hwang Geon Team Leader would bail like that?”
“Geon... loses it around women. Flaw, but shouldn’t touch authors.”
“Think he’s reformed?”
“Has to. To stay in the game.”
The female-oriented Team Leader lit a smoke, smiling.
“Staying long?”
“Brief. Till we staff up.”
“Why not stick around? Investment buzz—could hit executive director.”
“You’d get there without me.”
“Hohoho! Too soon for me. Just year nine.”
“No replacement, so you can.”
Big corps entering now. Best perk: massive funding reshaping orgs.
‘Executive director...’
Tempting once, but new ventures called.
‘That trash.’
Ten Memento Moris under him—what revenue? All to one man instead?
【Save me! Please! Just get me out! Aaaah! I’m losing it! -1】
Author’s morning plea echoed, ignored. Newbies needed time.
“Got any prospects over there?”
Male and female divisions clear-cut. She’d shone nine years. No feminine charm, but eye for works—he admitted.
“One male-oriented author’s shattering clichés big time. Boosted our side’s quality too.”
“Memento Mori, huh.”
“Yep. Regression, possession, reincarnation, return, missions. Now heroines possess extras from their own novels! Daily thrills wondering what’s next.”
“Into novels?”
“Yes, not protagonist—doomed extras! Why didn’t we think of it?”
VR games had protagonists leveling up, sparking game fantasy boom.
Possession similar broadly. But turning it web novel? Different league.
‘Genius?’
Had to concede. World changes need changemakers.
Hiss...
Thinking of him triggered gastritis, but company now.
“See you.”
She left; he smiled meaningfully.
Company still used paper contracts. After hours, no suspicion on his overtime—flipping files easy.
Detailed: addresses, accounts, ages.
Half the reason for returning. He swallowed, grinning.
“Fun times.”
Start with that extra-possession author.
“I’ll come too.”
“Sure.”
Seven emails sent morning; two replies.
Targeting majors from the start—one contract would hugely boost our platform.
“When for the schedule?”
“Tomorrow. If it suits them.”
“You okay? Writing awaits!”
“Knocked it out yesterday. More today.”
“Sigh, sleep! Broadcasts too—dark circles incoming!”
“Author life. Nobody tunes in for my mug. Missed it? Glam celebs win, makeup or not.”
Judges: era-defining singers. No looks contest for me.
Better write extra words that hour.
“Ugh, still, health first.”
I know myself—no inferiority. They have their turf; I’m writer—excel there.
“Want me to contact?”
“I got it. Morning, afternoon?”
“Yeah. Lunch together.”
“Yes. 10 AM, 2 PM.”
Others might reply tomorrow, but no courtesy like “considering” or “thanks”—straight ghosted.
Circumstances happen; no lingering—look ahead.