I am writing this to you while sitting in a not-very-comfortable chair at JFK. My dad and Meghan are in line for Starbucks. It’s been a long day; we could all use a little jolt from a tall latte.
We meet today with the publisher that I feel is the best option for me for Mercy’s diary. They are a relatively small house, by New York standards, but I felt strangely at home in their offices. Everyone there loves history; that’s what they love. They want success, but they don’t love it. What they love is seeing something as priceless and remarkable as Mercy’s diary immortalized and accessible to every generation that will come after me. I just like that.
Meghan thinks we should go to auction for the publishing rights but I just don’t feel right about that. She explained all the different offers she has received and what each publishing house has promised – and what they haven’t – but she told me in the end, it’s my decision and I should feel good about what I decide.
And my dad? He has surprised me by letting me choose. He told me in the taxi over here that some business deals are about money, some are about people, some are about posterity.
He has read the diary.
The publisher I like is preparing a contract and they will send it to Meghan later this week. If I sign off on it, the wheels will start turning. The diary will be in print by Christmas.
I hope I am doing the right thing. It’s the right thing, isn’t it? If Mercy knew what I was doing would she approve? Would she want the world to know what she wrote in secret? Would she?