Monthly Archives: November 2012

Wading into the Slush Pile

I was rabidly devouring info on turn-around time for submissions to certain pubs on Absolute Write yesterday.  That’s a productive use of writing time, no? Okay, it’s not.  It’s about the same as haunting Web MD in search of an ailment that matches the numerous questionable symptoms you (I) have lately.  It’s enough to make you think you’re dying as far as the symptom-checker goes, and enough to make you second guess the submission you (I) just sent and get absolutely no work done.

46. symptoms of cancer Courtesy of techtechboo...

46. symptoms of cancer Courtesy of (Photo credit: TipsTimes)

In my case, it made me realize that I never wrote “Dear [Anybody]” at the top of my submission.  Nothing.  Just tacked my synopsis and full onto the attachments and launched into a brief description.  The automatic response email didn’t flat-out call me an a-hole, but I doubt it has those detection abilities.

So then I had to search for the etiquette behind the “Dear Editor” thing.  Is it really necessary?  I know I’ve read “the rules” before.  I planned to send my sub in as picture-perfectly as possible.  I read everything on the site numerous times, and triple checked to be sure I had included all of the requested info.  I self-edited until my eyes bled.

But they never told me to be polite on the web site and I just plum forgot.

Crud buckets.

I’m not rude, generally speaking.  When I burp, I say the word “burp” which I think is way classier than a loud belch.  I always remember my “pleases” and “thank yous”–case in point, I remembered to thank the mysterious entity on the other side of my email for their consideration after I dumped my electronic business in their inbox.  Perhaps I earned back one of my demerits in the closing.

Well, the fact is, I don’t believe I’ll be summarily rejected for lack of an opening greeting.  Me being me, I feel like if I received a tug boat full of perky, overly friendly, and downright presumptuous submission emails each day, I’d want to punch someone in the face.  Cut to the chase.  We all know why we’re here.  Sorta like long-winded and cocky bios–I don’t like to write them and it pisses me off/gives me a reason to make fun of people when I read them.

Halifax Harbour

Halifax Harbour (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Dear Editor,

You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I think you’ll be interested to read what I am sending you.  The fact is, I’ve been having sex for years now, and I fancy myself an A+ fucker.  It was only natural for me to translate my sexpertise into smutty fiction.  I’m sure you’ll find my submission to be the best you’ve ever read and will want to thank me in person.  I will graciously allow you to buy me a drink at my earliest convenience   I just know we are going to be best friends.

You may find a link to all of my illustrious writings below.  Once you sample my authorial prowess, no doubt you will be interested in purchasing my other work.  Use coupon code IMAJERK10 for 10% off for a limited time only.

Thanks for your consideration,

[insert revoltingly flowery pen name here]

I like a bio with a bit of mystery.  Or maybe that is just my excuse for keeping them as short as possible because I hate writing them.  Food for thought.

Back to my point (if I ever had one, other than trying to justify my stupidity).  Does placing a specific editor‘s name on the top of one’s submission help it out of the slush pile?  Without an agent or a well-known name, aren’t we all just doomed to doggy paddle around in the slushy pool?  A flashy swimsuit won’t get us out of there any faster, will it?  I like to think, if I don’t drown immediately, I’ve got the same chance as the kids with the Speedos on, right?

Here is an interesting link on the subject.  I like this guy’s style.  Of course, in the end he says “Dear Editor” is just fine.  Nothing about having a cheesy log line for a greeting…

At least it got me off of Web MD for a short while.  I can’t die from idiocy, can I?


Thou Shall Not…

Check social media before thou sends out thy latest manuscript.

Partake of alcoholic beverages before thou sends out thy latest manuscript.

Masturbate before thou sends out thy latest manuscript.

Pet ponies before thou sends out thy latest manuscript.

I am truly a cruel and ineffectual mistress.  I set the above rules for myself this morning and had a pretty productive day, but didn’t put out as I had hoped.  I have not sent out said manuscript.  I am nearly half-done with my final read (and I mean it this time).  I sent out a short for potential reprint, signed two contracts for short stories…and I also failed to follow my self-imposed restrictions on three occasions.  The ponies, at least, are still waiting for their pets.

English: Image appears to be from an agricultu...

English: Image appears to be from an agricultural show in Belgium, here showing some ponies in the stabling area (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tomorrow is, after all, a new day.  Watch out, ponies…I mean, manuscript!




Bombing My NaNo! BOOM!

It started out so well, but then all hell broke loose.  I wrote about 7000 words the first week, and was feeling good.  I mean, I had no plans to write 50K this month.  This was a pseudo-NaNo from the get-go, but I was excited, inspired, prepared to rock the shit out of this half-assed NaNo thing I was signing up for in my mind!  I set a goal of a solid thousand words a day to get a good chunk of a novel written for November.  For the first half of the week, I was even sprinting away at REAL NaNo pace.

I’m a wiener!

And then came school cancellations, followed by in-laws.  When they left, my mom came to visit for the weekend.  Add helping out with kid’s classes, various kid-related Thanksgiving feasts, and time off for Turkey Day, and my writing hours are seriously sucking wind.

Thanksgiving at the Trolls

Thanksgiving at the Trolls (Photo credit: martha_chapa95)  Now this looks like a kick-ass Thanksgiving.

Of course, I have to do things like surf submission calls during my writing breaks, and inevitably pick up new short stories that I simply must write.  I’ve come to accept the fact that I am a short story whore.  I just love ’em.  They are permission to try something new, without all the time commitment.  A little taste of the dark chocolate you love, minus the hours and hours on the treadmill making up for it. 

Well, I did finish one fun short today (involving prison sex–see I wouldn’t marry it, but it was fun for a one night stand) and I have another one started (gay virgin vampires with a twist).  I am going to hammer a stake in that one tonight while my hubby is out partying with friends.  Then nothing (besides polishing up a synopsis and final edits on my last novel and editing those two shorts) will keep me from writing some hot man romance.  I swear Gio, Lance, and Kyrie, I’ll get back to you guys soon!

I will not look at submission calls.  I will not look at submission calls.  I will not look at submission calls.

*Sigh.*  I’ll get there.  Baby steps.


What’s Your Dream?

A world with no Fox News?  At the moment, that is mine.  I’ve got NJ Hurricane Sandy Refugees at my house who happen to have the TV on all day, set to the same odious channel.  My in-laws are staying with us because their power went out and their house was cold.  Of course, I’ve already jacked up my heat for them and they are currently shivering under blankets on my couch (the sick one, who can only go from bed to couch to bathroom is wearing gloves, coat, and a scarf).  I’m packing my bags to go on a murdering spree.

I love how I can now spit out the “breaking news” before the Fox newscasters can, and I can recite each candidate’s speech verbatim .  I’ve never been more anti-election in my life.  I’m all electioned out.  I don’t have a care to spare.  I can’t spare a care.  Almost didn’t vote today, I was so insanely apathetic.  But, I did get out there and do my civic duty eventually.  Grrr.

I know so many people are struggling with the after effects of this horrible hurricane, and my piddly woes of having irritating house guests for a week are nothing in comparison, and yet, I’m inching closer and closer to psycho killer as each day goes by.

We had no school today because of the election, or maybe just because I needed a second foot up my ass.

My guests are staying until after the next Nor’easter passes, just to be on the safe side.  If they only knew how unsafe it is with me preparing wholesome meals for everyone three times a day with sharp cutlery.

If school is cancelled for foul weather this week I’m afraid I won’t be able to control my inner Hulk.

Prayers and thoughts to everyone with real struggles as a result of Sandy and the coming weather.  I’ll refrain from stabbing anyone in your honor.  I’m also making my sugar daddy cut a check to the Red Cross.  Keep the faith, All.

Right now, I’m going to go hide in my room to see if I can get at least a couple NaNoWriMo words in.

Qu’est-ce que c’est?


COWBOY LUST Nominated for Antho of the Year!

This just in from the 2012 Authors After Dark Bookie Awards! Yip Yeah! And here is the part where I beg you, my fine friends, to click on this link and cast your vote for Cowboy Lust.

Please, please, please?  It would mean the world to me and hot cowboys everywhere.  If you fail to do this, I will send my five-year-old to your house to ride you like a trick pony until you give in.  Trust me, this is a real threat.  The kid is a nudge to end all nudges.  He will wear you down eventually, and leave with all your fruit snacks.  Oh, the horror!  Don’t let it happen to you!

Here’s that link again.  Voting starts today, Nov. 1.  You do have to fill out the entire poll (son of a…) but, remember, it’s for a good cause.  Cowboy Lust is the first one, so you can stop concentrating after that.  Click random things if you want.  Read the entire questionnaire and vote with your heart. Let your cat walk over the keyboard and vote in your stead.  Whatever!

Remember: Cowboy Lust for President!


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