Page 26 of The Write Midlife

"My brand? Is that all I am to you? To Carlisle Publishing? A brand to be marketed and sold?"

“What? No, of course not. Melody, you're?—"

"I'm what, Nate?" she challenged, stepping even closer. "An asset? A commodity? Another notch in the company’s belt?"

His gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw a glimpse of the Nate she had come to... appreciate. "You're so much more than that, Melody. You're a brilliant writer with a unique voice. That's why we want to work with you."

She shook her head, feeling a lump form in her throat. "No, you want to change me. Mold me into something more... palatable.”

Nate reached out, his hand hovering near her arm before dropping back to his side. "That's not true. We want to amplify your voice, not silence it."

"By having me write under a different name? By dictating plots and characters? How is that amplifying my voice?"

He sighed, leaning back against his desk. "It's about balance, Melody. Finding a way to stay true to your art while also... playing the game."

"The game?" she repeated, her voice dripping with disdain. “I gotta tell you, Carlisle. I’ve never been good at playing games. And I wouldn’t exactly compare my entire writing career to a round of Tiddlywinks.”

“What we’re doing here is far from Tiddlywinks, Mel. Though, I wish you had picked a different game to make analogies with.”Nate's eyebrows bobbed. “What we’re doing here is business. A business that needs to make money to survive. To keep publishing books, including yours."

She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and blinked them back. "So that's it, then? Profit over passion? Money over meaning?"

"It doesn't have to be one or the other. We can find a middle ground."

She shook her head, stepping back. The distance between them felt like a chasm now. "There is no middle ground, Nate. Not when it comes to my integrity as a writer."

He reached for her again, and this time she let him grasp her arm. His touch sent a spark through her, even now. "Melody, slow down. Just... think about it. Give it a chance."

She looked into his eyes, searching for... she didn't know what. Understanding? Sympathy? All she saw was the cool calculation of a businessman.

"I trusted you, Nate," she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. "I thought you understood my work, respected it."

His grip on her arm tightened slightly. "I do respect it. That's why I'm fighting for this deal. It could open so many doors for you."

She pulled her arm away, suddenly feeling cold. "The only door I see is the one leading me away from everything I believe in as a writer."

Nate's expression hardened. "So that's it? You won't even consider it?"

She straightened her shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. "There's nothing to consider. I won't do it, Nate. I won't sell my soul for a paycheck."

He flinched as if she had slapped him. "Is that what you think we're asking you to do?"

"Aren't you? You want me to write books I don't believe in, under a name that isn't mine, for readers who won't even know it's me. How is that not selling my soul?"

"It's called diversifying. Building a career that can withstand the ups and downs of the industry."

"Right. Because God forbid I write books that actually mean something, even if they don't top the bestseller lists."

"That's not fair.” His professional mask slipped before he shoved it back in place. “Your books do mean something. But they could mean something to even more people if you'd just?—"

"If I'd just what?" she interrupted. "Compromise? Conform? Become another cog in the Carlisle Publishing machine?”She turned towards the door. "I thought you were different, Nate. I thought you understood. But you're just like all the rest. All you see are dollar signs and market shares."

She reached for the door handle, but Nate's voice stopped her. "Melody…Dammit. Hold on. We can talk about this."

She turned back, seeing the desperation in his eyes. For a moment, she wavered. But then she remembered the contract, the cold, corporate language that would strip away everything unique about her writing.

Nate took a step towards her. "Don't do this, Melody. Don't throw away this chance."

She met his gaze one last time. Anger and a hint of regret burned beneath her breast. "The only thing I'm throwing away is the illusion that you ever really cared about my work."