Jim, [ he offers, because he is about to be asking for something, and also simply because there's no reason not to. ] John Silver mentioned it to me. I have a project I was hoping you'd be willing to help me with.
No trouble. [ hesitates, and then he admits, ] I want to publish about the refugees in Kirkwall. About them, not what I or anyone else thinks. The locals are seeing outsiders, Vints, strangers. But they're just people, here because of a common enemy, and I think they deserve a chance to speak for themselves. Remind everyone else of that.
[ then, ]
But I don't know the first thing about publishing, if I'm being honest. I have no idea what it'd take to make that happen.
[ Most proposals, Bastien would meet with bartering and details half designed to make the whole enterprise sound daunting, the kind of thing one really does need a professional for—paper size, ink type, length, the extent of the manual labor involved, is Riftwatch paying for this, and how does Jim feel about helping him pull a lever a few hundred times, it's great for your arms—
But this proposal, for reasons he will not be disclosing to any near strangers or to the vast majority of his friends, hits his compassion dead center.
So none of that. ]
It is not so difficult. Especially if it does not need to pay for itself. You could do a pamphlet—or more than one—and we could find some friendly booksellers to stock them. Maybe pull out a few good excerpts for broadsheets.
That sounds perfect. I don't know how many people will be willing to talk, but if it's more than a couple, I think it'd be a good idea not to publish them all at once.
[ there are things he's still learning to be familiar with: after a lifetime of newsfeeds and recordings and hand terminals, the concept of reaching out to broadsheets (for instance) hadn't crossed his mind. the mere thought of the likes of paper size, and ink type, and labor — a printing press, for god's sake — has left him feeling profoundly out of his depth. bastien can suggest anything, and he'll agree, because he isn't the professional here. ]
hi!
hellooo
no subject
no subject
[ then, ]
But I don't know the first thing about publishing, if I'm being honest. I have no idea what it'd take to make that happen.
no subject
But this proposal, for reasons he will not be disclosing to any near strangers or to the vast majority of his friends, hits his compassion dead center.
So none of that. ]
It is not so difficult. Especially if it does not need to pay for itself. You could do a pamphlet—or more than one—and we could find some friendly booksellers to stock them. Maybe pull out a few good excerpts for broadsheets.
no subject
[ there are things he's still learning to be familiar with: after a lifetime of newsfeeds and recordings and hand terminals, the concept of reaching out to broadsheets (for instance) hadn't crossed his mind. the mere thought of the likes of paper size, and ink type, and labor — a printing press, for god's sake — has left him feeling profoundly out of his depth. bastien can suggest anything, and he'll agree, because he isn't the professional here. ]
I'll pay for whatever you need.
no subject
[ It's not a one-man job. He used to be a boss with employees—it was terrible. ]
I will show you how.
no subject
[ things he had definitely never realized: that there was literal pressing involved with printing presses. but he follows that up with — ]
Anything you need.