On my first day, they put me on novellas. A lot of the greats got their start here, the manager said. After a few months’ experience, you’ll work your way down.

I pulled a stool up to the table where the other novella workers were settled. A chute in the ceiling had dumped the manuscripts into a pile, and each woman—they were all women for some reason—worked a story at a time, trimming words with exact-o knives and brushing them into buckets.