1. No, you can't come to my office to pitch me your books while you're visiting NYC for the holidays. You have to send a query. If I want to look at you, I'll tell you. And why do you think I'd be available the four days before Christmas anyway? (and just fyi, I DO meet with prospects but it's AFTER I've read their entire novel, had several email exchanges and expressed interest in talking further)
2. When you send me a manuscript that is in some weird ass font, with weird ass margins, and you've quadruple spaced between paragraphs, and I have to fix it just to read the first four pages...how much do I want to read on? Choose from:
a. not
b. Not
c. NOT
3. No, I'm not paying to go to your conference. I don't need "the visibility" thanks. Right now, I'd prefer to be INVISIBLE in fact. I'm not paying for any part of a conference. Not the banquet, not the taxi ride, and certainly not the plane fare. If I wanted a "vacation" in the middle of January, trust me, it would NOT involve people pitching me their novels!!!
(removed rant about menorahs and Christmas trees side by side....it was a good one, but off off off topic)
Yes I'm cranky as hell. Rain, sleet, snow and ice all on the same day will do that to a person.
Clearly time to go read a good book. Fortunately I have several right here.
7 comments:
Heh heh. I'm guessing the good books are not from the slush pile.
I could definitely use a Lump of Coal like that.... it's cold, icy, and windy here too... and I just spent ten days with my in-laws.
Better make that two or three lumps!
Oh, I wish you'd left the rant in - now my mind's stuck in an endless loop trying to imagine it!
What did you end up reading?
Yeah, thanks, Carla (and Janet, for passing it on). I can get some of that coal about fifteen minutes from my house.
Will you represent poetry?
About beer?
If someone is killed in it?
Must it rhyme?
Hunting With Coal
by
William E. Goat III, esq.
(Dear Janet! Rep me!)
Once upon a mid-night dreary,
When my eyes were bloodshot and bleary,
I chanced upon a reindeer trotting.
I was sloshed from drinking beer,
And thought, "I'll have to shoot that deer!
My brain it was a rotting.
I pulled my trusty rife from the rack,
And loaded it with bullets from the pack.
This is dangerous when you're with beer besotting.
I took aim and fired wild.
I think the first shot struck near Idlewild.
The next hit true as shown by the hole's spotting.
The deer, it seems, was painted on a jeep.
The man within it gave a leap!
Now away I am trotting.
Never shoot at a fish and game car.
If you do you'll have to run far,
Or in a cell you'll be rotting
They don't sever beer in jail I fear,
Only gruel eaten with a tear.
And in the clink you'll become someone's dear.
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