I've been looking for judges for a contest (this one) and I swear to god, editors and agents are running for cover when I ask them. I visualized the standard image involving those scurrying cockroaches the second after I throw the kitchen light switch on, but that's hardly fair. If we're going for cliches let's say the editor is a camel with way too many umbrellas, waterbottles, Gladstone bags and bird cages hanging on her hump and apparently my request is a straw. She sees it coming and knows that her spine is in danger. She runs when she hears my voice.
Anyway. It's been a lot worse than usual. Many of those editors are not even bothering to return my calls and notes with a "no thank you." I've hunted the editors for this contest about four? years? and never had so much trouble.
Maybe it has nothing to do with the cash-strapped employee-dumping industry so that one person is now doing the job that used to belong to six. Maybe it's my breath.
Aaaand speaking of popularity contests and books, I have an ebook coming out tomorrow. Have a blog? Want to review it? You may even call it foul names. I can take the heat. Let me know and I'll send you a copy.
Rosalie’s well-ordered life is disturbed after she inherits a powerful aphrodisiac but she’s even more unsettled by her response to the rugged man who offers to help her dispose of the dangerous powder.
Here's a historic note about the story: the secondary character, Walter Clermont, is based on anonymous Victorian author of My Secret Life (whose adventures took place a few years earlier, I know).
I'd do an SBD but it would be all whiney, and not even fun whining either. Maybe tomorrow I can go on about how much I dislike someone else's book while trying to get you all to buy mine.