Wang Jian took the information and asked with a frown, "What if the publisher doesn't like it?"

The old man tidied up the table and said, "Then you can only publish a book at your own expense, but you probably can't afford it."

Wang Jian touched his pocket and rationally did not ask how much it cost to publish a book at his own expense.

He just took his manuscript, glanced at the information on the table, and nodded slowly.

Success or failure is here.

If it fails, it means that the online novels are not suitable for the environment in the United States.

The novels in your mind should be kept for self-entertainment.

So he recorded all the submission addresses and methods of several large publishing houses.

I'm going to copy the outline of the story and the first tens of thousands of words of the novel I printed out tomorrow, and try it one by one.

The old man also cleaned up the room that no one lives in, as Wang Jian’s bedroom tonight.

In this way, Wang Jian spent the quietest night after traveling through time.

There was no gunshots, shouts, no leaves, or smell of alcohol.

All of this made him feel particularly comfortable.

When Wang Jian got up the next morning, he felt that the fatigue of busy manuscripts had been wiped out in the past few days.

After eating a sandwich and a glass of milk prepared by the old man, he put the manuscript and the prepared story summary into a bag and said goodbye to the old man.

Then, Wang Jian came to the post office and bought a stack of envelopes and a full version of stamps.

Fortunately, Wang Jian lives in New York, and most publishing houses have branches here, which can receive manuscripts for review.

Otherwise, if it's just postage, you will feel sorry for him.

Then, Wang Jian came to the copy shop again, and after some bargaining, he copied eight copies of the printed items.

He put the copied manuscript into an envelope and pasted the stamps.

Then, write the addresses one by one.

In this way, all of these were stuffed into the mailbox.

OK, wait for the reply.

Wang Jian thought, hoping that there would be a good result, otherwise he would really have to go with Al, use the money he had obtained to pay the rent, and survive the days when he needed community labor.

In this way, he returned to his apartment in the Bronx with hope.

As a result, as soon as the door was opened, he saw two black guys sitting on the sofa, staring at the door with anticipation.

When they saw that it was Wang Jian who came in, the two of them rushed up.

"Hey, bro, have you finished writing that story?" asked a black man.

"Yes, yes, take it out after writing, let's wait and see." Another black man also said anxiously.

Wang Jian was startled first, and after calming down, he realized that these two people were the first to read the manuscript.

"Uh, no, I didn't continue writing." Wang Jian thought of the old man's advice that before publication, try not to let people read the manuscript.

So, I told a lie.

"Oh, why don't you write anymore? The protagonist was looked down upon by several second-level magicians just now, but the protagonist is already a third-level magician." A black guy sighed: "I'm so excited, I'm just off. What's going on."

"That's right, that's it." Another black man said: "I didn't even feel energetic when I was doing business with girls yesterday, just thinking about what happened next."

Then the two looked at Wang Jian together, "Write quickly!"

Wang Jian was so excited that he was seen by the scorching eyes of the two of them. He quickly picked up the comic "Waterman" from the table and handed it over.

"You guys look at this first, it's also interesting."

The two of them took the comics, flipped through them casually for a few times, and threw them back to the table.

"What, it's not good-looking. With this skill, we might as well go to the party. I heard there are high-end products there."

The two of them looked at each other, stood up in disappointment, and said to Wang Jian: "Don't go out and wander around, write a good story at home."

Then, the two of them shook their heads and sighed and walked out of the apartment to attend the party.

Wang Jian looked at the backs of the two, and always felt that the picture had such a strong sense of déjà vu.

He shook his head hard, and he no longer thought about it. He quickly went back to his room to take out his ID and prepared to collect the food coupon.

Now I don’t have a fixed income, and I spent another money on submissions. I’d better save as much as I can.

After receiving the food coupons for the month at the place where the food coupons were issued, Wang Jian went to the store to buy a lot of food.

He returned to the apartment with food and repeatedly warned himself that he could not spend any more money and that he really couldn't afford the rent.

Then, Wang Jian began to look for a job while waiting. He couldn't find it and participated in community labor.

I looked for a job again, but I couldn't find it, and I participated in community labor.

Three days later.

Wang Jian looked at the postman who was leaving, his eyes were blank, and he murmured: "Not yet..."

Over the past three days, his emotions have gone from full of expectations to self-comfort.

Even at this moment, Wang Jian felt that news of rejection was better than no news.

But at this moment, in the Manhattan district of New York, a young editor named Tom was holding Wang Jian's contribution and was excited to come to the editor-in-chief Jack's office.

"Editor-in-chief, this manuscript is very interesting." He handed the manuscript to the editor-in-chief and continued: "Although the writing is very immature and the story is absurd, it has great potential."

“If it works well, it would be a novel on the bestseller list.”

"Let me talk to the author?" he said with anticipation.

A middle-aged white man with a serious face picked up the manuscript, signaled the young man with a little excitement to sit down, and then looked at it.

More than ten minutes later, he threw the manuscript over and said, "Reject the manuscript!"

He said angrily: "This is a book? Magic is unreliable enough, and eating corn is the most powerful?"

"Does people really think that no literary literacy have any of them? They also write books at this level? Literature is noble and connotative. What is this?"

"But..." Tom was about to say something, but looking at Old Jack's serious expression, he swallowed up what he wanted to say.

"Yes, I'll resign it now."

After saying that, he shook his head and walked out of the editor-in-chief's room.

Old Jack looked at the young man's back and said, "Young man still lacks experience. He still needs to sharpen his skills."

Such things also happened in several other famous publishing houses in New York at the same time.

The only difference is whether there are young editors like Tom who highly recommend it.

Wang Jian, after waiting for five days, finally received the first reply from the publisher.

He suppressed his excitement and returned to the bedroom with the reply letter.

After taking a deep breath, slowly unpack the envelope.

I saw the letter paper: I'm very sorry, your manuscript does not meet the requirements of this publisher for publication. Please submit the article again after correction. Thank you for your trust.

Signature: Haber Publishing House.
Chapter completed!