“Excuse me,” Vanessa started.
I looked to the floor, trying to turn myself invisible, hoping she wasn’t going to say anything that would cause anyone to look in my direction.
“Do we really think we have enough writers and enough content to maintain daily posts?” she asked. “Not all of us can crank out smut as quick as the golden child.”
“Watch it,” Riot growled.
“Don’t even get me started,” Vanessa shot back to his face.
“All right, you two,” Jaeson interjected, holding his hands up.
I looked up and surveyed the room, catching a few glances shot my way. Was now a good time to sink into the floor and disappear? Sure, of course it was.
“We have considered the myriad ramifications this decision will have on the immediate future of our publication,” Luka began, completely unbothered. “Quite frankly, the amount of content we have received is quite enough to consider multiple posts in one week. If we account for the sheer number of pitches we’ve received since our paper went viral, we easily have enough to post multiple times a day.”
“So, what, we’re talking about turning the paper into a full-on news organization?” Cynthia asked.
“Who knows?” Jaeson asked. “Our page views are still through the roof, and we’re growing beyond just our campus population.”
“Thanks to that smut, by the way, Van,” Cynthia sniped in Vanessa’s direction.
Vanessa turned around, glaring at Cynthia. “I’m just saying quality content is going to dictate the future of this paper,” she said. “I can do without the snark, thank you very much.”
“Fuck you very much yourself,” Cynthia shot back.
“Order, please!” Luka said, his voice rising. “You are adults, and you will act like adults.”
“Hey, my language is plenty adult,” Cynthia said back, grinning, accompanied by the laughter of the room.
Vanessa grumbled and sat back down in her chair, facing back towards the front of the room.
“You’re gonna get yourself kicked out,” I whispered to Cynthia, though I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
“She’ll get over it,” Cynthia said back, shrugging. “She’s a big girl.”
“Moving on,” Luka said, shaking his head. “We’re keeping the meeting short today, due to the fact that if this motion passes, we will all require the use of every spare minute.”
“Excuse me,” I chimed in, raising my hand and immediately regretting it. What was I, back in elementary school? I pressed on without waiting to be called upon. “The kind of features I write are so intensive I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep up with a daily posting schedule.”
“We don’t expect that,” Riot said.
“We were considering a schedule of, perhaps, three posts a week,” Luka responded. “I am not too terribly concerned with the content at the moment, but I feel as though we can capitalize even further on our current momentum if we stay visible consistently, regardless of what that content is.”
“We’ll figure it out along the way,” Riot added. “Just send me everything you’ve got, and we’ll review it. I don’t care what it is. Send it. Whatever we don’t use, we’ll give you notes on, and we’ll spread out the postings to make sure we’re never short.”
“But that requires work,” Jaeson chimed in. “Work from all of you. No more waiting until the end of the week to submit. If you’ve got something, put it in. Hand it over and let us run with it.”
“I might have a few things,” Dave said, speaking up from the far corner of the room. Dave was an interesting type. Frequently, I’d see him in the library at the bigger conference rooms, running tabletop games with a variety of colorful students, all shapes, sizes, genders and dispositions. The doors were normally closed, but all of the glass windows gave a view of groups that seemed to frequently be shouting with joy, laughing, crying, and everything in between. What little I knew about him told me he was a fantastic writer, always coming up with an interesting scenario for his games. I kept thinking maybe I’d talk to him here and there, see what his deal was, but every time I wanted to, I could never find him, or we’d be swept away with other things.
“I want all your ideas,” Riot responded.
“I run a weekly game with some players who have been with me for a year or two now,” Dave said. “They keep telling me they want to write some of their character stories. The content would be varied, and it would be a mix of science fiction and fantasy. It wouldn’t all be from me, but I could always take the things my players write and put them through a solid editing pass before I hand them off.”
“That might not be the best idea,” Jaeson said, frowning. “There’s an issue of attribution to think about, especially when it comes to non-members.”
“Hold that thought,” Riot said. “Dave, get their permission for you to publish their works.” He looked over to Luka and Jaeson, shrugging. “We can attribute them in the body of the text, and still put it all under Dave’s byline. Everybody wins.”
I was impressed. Riot never engaged quite this much with the group, instead preferring to do all of his business in his office, late at night or early in the morning. But here he was, displaying his leadership chops.
