I received three emails this morning from forlorn authors wondering why I hadn't replied to their queries since, as devoted blog readers, they read the post below and saw "done."
My foot sure looks lovely with that nice hole I shot in it my ownself, doesn't it.
Here's the scoop: the post below was for ONE day of queries. I've still got 46 in the pending file. That means if you received an email saying "this is not a form rejection, I just need more time" I do have your query, and I have not yet read it.
If you've sent me a query (via email) and have NOT heard back at all (and you have avoided the category of emails I don't feel compelled to answer--see blogroll) then write again.
Sorry for the confusion, and the consternation.
5 comments:
I really do not envy being you. Do not.
Do you ever weep tears of blood? Seriously, how do your eyes not bleed?
The single biggest reason I would never ever ever want your job is that reading for me is strictly a pleasure. I would quit, be fired, or starve if I had to read as much as you because I HAD to.
I just want to say, as a writer swirling around the slush pile of the publishing world: YOU ROCK!
Thank you for the manner in which you do business.
Thanks for the communication. We can't help it if we're loyal sheep. BAAA!!!
We had a politician here many years ago who always preferred to use a nine millimeter automatic when he shot himself in the foot. That way if he ran out of ammo, he could pop in a speedloader and start blasting away again.
For awhile there I thought Mark Sanford had bought this earlier politician's nine from him. Then as the news continued to come out, I realized Sanford prefers to use a machine gun.
The point being, the very best of us do it. There is just something about those manicured and painted toes that is too inviting a target.
If you accept two fulls a night you are the most generous agent in the world. Your forlorn writers should keep that in mind.
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