On Saturday the latest (second) rejection slip for my novel arrived. This was not unexpected, but what surprised me was that the slush reader was moved to write a few words on the slip to let me know why he didn't want my novel. And by "few" I mean "five," but as one was the word "Excellent" and it was underlined, I'm actually rather encouraged. However, since I don't presently have time to rewrite the novel to suit him better, I'll try to find another publisher who buys books more like mine.
This means I need to find a publisher of girlie books (not naughties, I mean books that appeal to girls). Today Oz and I drop by the bookstore to do a little research on books with curly pink lettering, unicorns, or psychic dragons. Not that my novel has unicorns or psychic dragons, but the girls who read those books—I was one of them myself, back in the day—are my prospective market.
"I need to see who publishes Anne McCaffrey. I think it's Del Rey," I say.
"Yeah, and what about that Marion Zimmer Bradley and that one with all the psi storms," Oz says.
"Andre Norton?"
"Yeah. They've got to be, like, a hundred years old now. The publishers must be looking to replace them. Or maybe they already have! Yeah, with computers. 'Input a few plot parameters. Bunny rabbits, yeah, psychic vorpal bunny rabbits from Mars. With teeth!'"
Hey, I could work with that…
247 words | June 27, 2004 07:55 PM | Real true story