Heard from my Agentress this morning. All the news goes through her. She's my filter. She softens the blows. She's my airbag protection. In a nutshell: two of the five big-city editors have "passed," which is a kind word for, "kicked me to the curb." Both big-city editors wrote something along the lines of "Dan is awesome." Actually, they didn't. They don't think All in a Cup is awesome. That's kind of my problem. They need to think it's awesome.
One wrote, "While I liked the characters and thought the writing was good, I'm sorry to say that I just couldn't figure out a way to help the novel stand out on such a crowded shelf." My writing is "good." WTF?
Good?
Damn. Cookies are good. Broccoli is good for you. A four-cylinder manual transmission gets good gas mileage.
Then there was this last little jab: "I wish I could be more enthusiastic -- though I'm sure you have savvier editors on the trail here." Yeah, whatever.
So, how did I reply to The Agentress? I was a man of self-control, pith and class. I wrote, "Dangit. Merry Christmas."
