One of my first jobs in publishing had the imposing title of "assistant to the institutional marketing director." As such, I was in charge of several large filing cabinets. I was very impressed by the number of files I had to manage, including a set of state files with everything from AL (Alabama) to WY (Wyoming). Each time I typed a letter, I would put a copy on my supervisor's desk for her review, and would receive it back with a scribbled notation that read, "file TX." Hmmmm. I thought, I don't know what this letter to Publishers Weekly (or the University of Michigan or to some literary agent) has to do with Texas, but what do I know? There is so much I have to learn about publishing. So I would carefully file it in my burgeoning Texas file. Several months into my job, my supervisor asked me for a copy of a letter she had sent to the New York Times Book Review.
"Oh, yes," I replied efficiently. "That's in the Texas file." And I quickly pulled what amounted to a chronological file of copies of everything I'd sent out to date.
"The Texas file?" my supervisor asked.
"Oh, yes," I replied smugly. "I filed everything marked 'file TX' right here."
"The Texas file!" my supervisor repeated incredulously. "That's supposed to be 'file—thanks.'"
I did have so much to learn—and also to file.
Maria Modugno,
Vice President/Editorial Director, HarperCollins Publishers
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