Gary Corby, where are you?

Your email bounced back.
Your website is gone.

I want to read pages.
You're making it hard to do so!

Last chance!

Gay Talese

A couple years back I read Gay Talese's A Writer's Life. It is a vastly underrated book. All the news about the book seemed to focus on the small part of it concerned with the Bobbit case.


In fact, it's a brilliant book, as only Gay Talese could write. It violates everything I harp on about how to structure a book, but guys like Gay Talese learned and practiced all those rules for so long they can now break them masterfully.


Here's an article from the New York Press about Gay Talese that reminded me yet again of why I love New York. Best line: "By the clicking of our thumbs, something wicked this way comes." Read the entire article for the context.


And if you need a good summer beach read, A Writer's Life is out in paperback.

Reason #101 I'm glad there is a MRS Somers

Jeff Somers' makes me laugh, and I'm in awe of his ability to write but sometimes I wonder if sanity is optional over there in Deshabille Central. Then I remember the extremely sane (other than that one moment of saying "I Do") Mrs. Somers keeps Jeff attached to terra firma...most days.

Here's what reminded me of that most recently:

Q to Jeff: Do you ever envision a time when you would be able to just write full time? Is that something you even want to do, or do you prefer being able to write what and how you want?

Jeff Somers: Do I envision it? I envision it constantly. In my vision I am wearing a purple robe made of something very soft and comfortable and carrying a scepter of some sort. When I wave the scepter, beer appears on the table before me. In the afternoons I lounge on a hammock in the back and dictate some brilliancies to my unpaid secretary, who volunteers to work for me because of my recognized genius.



The rest of the interview is here

I'm adding to my arsenal, my pretty!

Stephany Evans called me into her office one day this spring. She said "I think this one is just right for you."

I thought she had a juicy crime novel. Or a biography of a contemporary artist, or even perhaps a novel about cowgirls. But no. No indeed. It was a book of curses. And hexes. And maledictions. Stephany just grinned.

What the heck I said. This looks kind of fun. I stowed it in my satchel o'stuff and headed out to meet an editor. I decided to use my time efficiently so I started reading. Well, I was supposed to get off at West 4th since I was having lunch with a Perigee editor. When I stopped laughing long enough I realized I was somewhere south of my destination; I'd overshot by two or three stops.

I clambered out of the subway, hailed a cab and got to lunch.

When I got back to the office I rang up the author. Wrong phone number on the proposal.
I emailed her. Bounced back as incorrect.

I seriously wondered if the proposal wasn't just about curses, it WAS cursed. Fortunately the author included her address and I realized the area code had transposed numbers. I phoned again.

We hit it off instantly. She's hilarious. I snookered her into signing.

Last week I sold the book after a small riot of interest from every desperate revenge seeking editor in town. Here's the announcement on Publishers Marketplace:


NON-FICTION: POP CULTURE
Dawn Rae Downton's THE LITTLE BOOK OF CURSES AND MALEDICTIONS FOR EVERYDAY USE, the modern day guide to exacting stylish revenge using spells, incantations, hexes, imprecations, and execrations for the worst messes (and people) in your life, to Ann Treistman at Skyhorse, in a nice deal, for publication in October 2009, by Janet Reid at FinePrint Literary Management (world English).


It will surprise none of you to know that I lobbied HARD for this book to be called The Agent's Tool Kit For Dealing With Recalcitrant Authors, Queriers and Editors...but cooler heads prevailed.

Well Laid Plans Laid Up

I started out on Friday with very noble intentions.

I wanted to answer all my pent up email. I had about 193 waiting. Several of them are from clients waiting to hear feedback on books in revision. They're being more patient than they should and this makes me itchy with shame.

I wanted to get my Monday submissions ready to go. I've got a couple books going out on Monday, and several that are moving toward closing dates, and I wanted to get all my ducks in a row to hit the ground quacking bright and early on Monday--like noon. That's morning, right?

I wanted to finish reading a historical thriller from one of my authors. I've read about 40 pages, I'm dying to finish it and I just can't seem to get that four hour block of time.

So, Friday afternoon at 5pm it was raining like crazy so instead of going to Aleksander Hemon's reading at Borders I went home to work.

Here's what happened instead:

1. Got an email from a prospective client from Muse in the Marketplace that needed immediate attention. Dropped everything to start reading his full. Read the full, made editing suggestions, sent to author, and then read through again to make sure all the changes worked. Total time: 12 hours

2. Got several emails from editors (who are cleaning up their email for the week just like I'd planned to!) asking for a project that has taken on additional heat because of some stuff in the news-sent those. Called the author to alert him to watch for spikes on his blog traffic. Total time: 2 hours

3. Talked with two authors about plans for BEA. Total time: 2 hours

4. Went to an author's surprise party in New Jersey (bonus-train time is reading time!) Total time: 10 hours

5. Got another email from another prospective client saying two agents were interested in his work. Ended up stepping aside on that one, but only after reading the first 50 pages. Total time: 1 hour

Finally I'm getting to the those email and the submissions list plans and it's 5:30pm on Sunday evening.

Time between Friday 5pm and Sunday 5:30pm: 48.5 hours
Total time on unexpected things: 27 hours


I'm not complaining. I chose this job, in this industry. I love it. I don't want to be doing anything else. I am not ever saying my time is more valuable than my authors or the people who query me. It's not. I am saying though that even with the best of intentions, sometimes, stuff just pops up and "I'll get back to you by Friday" rolls right into Monday morning with no reply. In fact, it happens a lot.

But this is the reason that it gripes me when people compare my job to any job with a salary (like a teacher who has to grade papers after hours.) NONE of what I did today earned any money. NONE of it. It may lead to money in the future, but there's no paycheck at the end of the week. You'll pardon me please if I try to minimize the stuff that I know won't earn me any money (rejection letters) and at least try to focus on the things that might turn into money-editing and reading.

I guess that venting over at Bookends struck a nerve considering I've now spent 30 minutes of that oh-so-valuable time ranting about it.

Ok, back to work.

Bad Bad Agents

So, I've been reading the comments on BadBadAgents over at BookEnds (ok, it's not really called that, it's called A Time To Vent, but hey, titles are subject to change, we all know that).

It seems a few people have been reading my snarly comments about "I look forward to hearing from you soon" and they think it demonstrates lack of concern, or lack of professionalism, or lack of something.

Well, probably. I'm just a steaming heap o'lack most days of the week. Lack o'sympathy for starters.

But if we could all just ease our undies for a second and remember it's also just a post on a blog about how to polish your query letter. I don't think I've ever rejected anyone for saying "I look forward to hearing from you soon" much like I don't think I've ever shot myself in the head to see if a gun was loaded. Please.

I sympathize with some of the other comments posted, and I'm with you on the no-reply to query thing, but where we part company is when people start talking about how personalized rejections are part of my job. They are not. My job is to sell. I read queries and find the work I think I can sell. The rest of it is no. Why I say no is absolutely irrelevant to you. Maybe it's cause you know, you signed off with "I'm looking forward to hearing from you tomorrow".

Hell is dipping precariously toward 32 F.

I know this because I'm holding an e-ticket confirmation for Jet Blue, destination LA. I swore I was never leaving NYC again after freezing to death in Boston last month AND having to forage for vittles cause a major water main break closed most of the eateries in the hotel's hood. (The fact that I found THREE wonderful potential clients assuaged my pain of course).

But here we are now heading toward BEA season, and BEA is in LA. If I could find an mp3 of a primal scream, I'd insert it here.

Fortunately Eric Stone has been kind enough to offer to fetch me from the Aerodrome. I hope he's bringing a portable bar. I'm bringing a stun gun; I've seen LA Story, I know what it's like out there in Lotusville.

However since Hell is now close to freezing over, I figured I'd better sharpen my skates. And maybe ...practice.

I love my job, I do!

One day a letter arrived in the mailbox. It was short and sweet and had an SASE. I read it. I replied. Over the course of the next month more chapters were requested and mailed. I read them with increasing urgency.

When I finished the book I knew I had to have it. I just HAD to have it. I called the author. She sounded a bit shell shocked. I convinced her I wasn't her sister having a joke, or her office colleagues teasing her.

When she signed the author representation contract she included a cover letter mentioning she was waltzing the cat around the kitchen with euphoria.

If I'd had a cat, I'd have waltzed it too.

To make a long story short, I sold the novel today, and god help that poor cat, cause we're, all three of us, pretty damn excited.

Here's the deal announcement on Publishers Lunch:

Kennedy Foster's STANDFAST, in which a rancher and a ranch hand come to love each other in the austere terrain of Eastern Washington; overcoming cultural misunderstandings, the threat of deportation, the looming menace of a lien holder, and the problems of a loving family, to Abby Zidle at Pocket, in a nice deal, for publication in July 2009, by Janet Reid at FinePrint Literary Management (World English).


That short announcement doesn't begin to tell you how fabulous this book is. I love it passionately. I can hardly wait for you all to get a chance to read it. Most of you are going to be shocked to learn that no one dies, no one catches fire, there's hardly any bad language, and godhelpus there's a romance and a happy ending. You KNOW it has to be good to charm a curmudgeon like me.

I love this book. I'm so happy...wait, who's got a cat I can waltz?

There I was at Borders...

The reason this is a bit blurry is cause I was quivering with happiness to see Jeff Somers' The Digital Plague so prominently displayed at Borders next to Penn Station. Yea baby indeed.

Dying to Win!

It used to be if you were dead you were only eligible to vote in Chicago, and only then if you were a Democrat.

Now Slate tells us that it's possible to be dead and still eligible to vote in several other places. There goes one of my favorite punch lines of all time. Damn.

Concetta Bertoldi's book Do Dead People Watch You Shower should have a follow up: The Dead Will Help You Win an Election! (Concetta's book was utterly charming even to a hoary crabby grumpy skeptic like me!)

It's been one of those days

One of my favorite people in the world sent me a picture from the Edgars. After I insisted he burn it, I took the copy he'd sent me, cropped myself out and told my dear slithery competitor Barbara Poelle I was going to post it on my blog.

Not too many minutes went by before this arrived:

Can you wait to post a picture of me where I don’t look like I am on a black tar heroin binge? How about instead, you post this photo of me having one of the easy days in publishing…


So, here it is.
Caption to be determined but I'm leaning toward:

"Next time we order take out sushi, I get to drive the helicopter"

Hey who's that blue sleeve in the corner?

There's a nice story in Galleycat about Orbit's expansion (yay) and a nice picture of Devi Pillai, Orbit's fabulous editor who spotted Jeff Somer's work in an online zine and made him the rich and famous pantsless author he is this very day.







<----If you look closely though, you'll see a wisp of a blue sleeve. That's Our Man Somers, now excised to the only thing that truly matters: his writing arm!



Here's the picture before Jeff was cropped down to size:

But will he be wearing pants?

Jeff Somers is on the air tonight! The Joey Reynold show is on at 1am so technically it's tomorrow but you'll still want to stay up late and listen. Call in too!

I want to know why he feels compelled to annihilate my favorite city in The Electric Church and The Digital Plague. I mean really now, what the heck did little ol New York ever do to him!!

Why I will soon be living at Trump Tower

There are lots of ways to get a fancy address in New York City.
It never dawned on me that stealing the building was one of them.
I'm all over this. Change of address forms coming soon!.