While I have the utmost regard for writers, I just know that somewhere, someone’s Inbox is being filled with emails like the following.
This is my take on what they might say.
Be afraid … be very afraid.
11/19/13 11:05 AM
This is to inform you that it’s been approximately 4 ½ hours since I’ve entered Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards, but as yet, I’ve received no formal notification that I’ve won.
I’m confused as to what is taking so long.
11/19/13 11:30 AM
I am still waiting.
11/19/13 11:23 AM
Oh, good God! In checking my submission, I realized that there were some teensy-weensy, itsy-bitsy errors. File this under, “Faux pas,” and “Boy, is my face red!”
In revising my pitch, which you did insist on, I inadvertently added a redundant “against.” In paragraph two, line three, it reads “She fights against the tide rising against her.” Of course, it should read, “She fights the tide rising against her.” Also in paragraph three, line four, there is a superfluous space before and after the Em dash. I understand that in the Chicago Manual of Style that this is considered gauche and déclassé (their words; not mine). I feel I must add that I am still waiting for the CMOS to catch up with my unique genius.
Since Amazon employs so many tekkie types, it should be easy to tap one of these anal retentives to fix the “Oopsies!” While some eschew these nitpickers that harvest on the butt of life, I find that when they’re working for me instead of against me, their obsessive, one-track minds really benefit me in performing functions that the rest of us would feel are beneath us. And while they’re it, could they please expunge all identifying material that I erroneously included.
Thanking you in advance,
All Thumbs Today
11/19/13 11:45 AM
I’m about to pop out for lunch, but thought I would check in to see how my excerpt is being received.
I was confused about how seriously I was supposed to take your (snicker, snicker) “submission requirements.” Therefore, I took the 3,000 to 5,000 word limitation to be only a suggestion. If it had been literally adhered to, I would have to include half a sentence from the next chapter. You can see how ludicrous that would have been, can’t you?
I would really appreciate if the reader assigned my entry calls to discuss. My number is as listed in Author Bio. I find that keeping in close personal contact with my fans adds an element of relevancy to the doer/doee relationship.
I’ll be here for another five minutes.
Very truly yours,
11/19/13 11:55 AM
Personally, I feel it is the height of rudeness to not adhere to a scheduled conference call, but “Little Miss I’m Too Busy for You” did just that. I wouldn’t be so upset, except for the fact, that she’s missing many of the more subtle strokes that I achieved with the use of my lyrical brush in not discussing the selection with me. After all, I am the author, and as such, who better to explain the inner workings of a troubled mind? And there is that backstory that puts the binge eating scene in the horse trailer in context. I mean, these profound feelings of inadequacies can only be the result of being the 11th in a twelve child household, don’t you think? I don’t believe this fact was mentioned, although it should be apparent to anyone but an ignoramus.
While I’m angry at the wanton hussy ignoring me, I’m sensing you’re sad that I was summarily dismissed. Am I right? I also am picking up a male presence—tall, sensitive … a metro-sexual. There’s no need for you to confirm. My session with Southeastern Psychics confirmed that I would be corresponding with my soul mate this week. How’s that for accuracy? I know that they were referring to you, and that your first name begins with an “A” or an “M”. Anthony? Michael? Anthony Michael? Or Marcus Michael?
I don’t usually bond this quickly with someone that I barely know, but I feel an almost irresistible pull—as if a force the magnitude of gravity is demanding we collide. The entire providence of predestined actions gives me a chill, but then I’ve always been intuitive. It’s how I know I’m going to win Amazon’s little crap shoot, but then you must feel that, too. It’s why you’re spending so much time handling my requests. We will make a formidable team, Mr. Arthur Antibes. Or is it Artemus Abner?
It’s strange how fate works. I had thought I was destined to be married to my former boyfriend—the one that BITTERLY disappointed me. I know you could never be so crass. You see, writing is my life and something in which I am destined to excel. My psychic, Claire, confirmed that much, but writing can’t keep the old feet warm at night, hey? When I think of Jeffrey and how he’d tuck me under the chin. Staring deeply into my eyes, he’d udder, “How now brown cow?” I could cry. Such the poet. It was all so tragic. I mean, everything was going so perfectly, until one day when he promised to call, and didn’t. I waited and waited as any true life partner would, but to no avail. Doesn’t a pinky swear count for anything these days? And, yeah, The Jets in an overtime playoff was his pathetic excuse. When the hell have The Jets been in that position lately? I wasn’t even important enough for him to come up with a good lie. And, yes, the tasering I unleashed on him in the parking lot after work when trying to get to his car might have been a tad overreacting, but what choice did I have? None! You see, you do understand!
Now, quick, quick, my sweet, my love, my chocky-wocky one and only, please make haste and light a fire under the ass of the ass reading my excerpt? Pretty please with sprinkles on top? And no need to mention that using “udder” instead of “utter” was a Freudian slip. Hint: I give my milk away for free.
Looking forward to meeting you,
11/19/13 1:45 PM
Did I miss anything? I went out for a bite to eat, but stayed too long at the sushi bar. There’s something about sliced fish that fascinates me!
Maybe we can exchange wisdom teeth? Just a thought.
Perhaps it would be best if you used my personal email for communiques. It’s a combination of my first name “Luna” and the first three letters of my last name “Tic.” Some people have tried to read into my nom de plume, but methinks jealousy doth rear its ugly head. There was never one so stable as this three-legged table.
Can’t wait to see you. Consider yourself invited over for dinner on Friday night. I could cook my very special version of shrimp linguine. Everyone just raves and raves about the flavor. My secret ingredient? Menstrual blood. Can you believe that no one ever guesses? It’s such a logical choice. Let’s see Bobby Flay do that!
For now I must part. My laptop beckons as words spill from the Vesuvius of Imagination.
Yearning for your touch, I remain,
11/19/13 3:10 PM
I have the most tragic news. It’s tantamount to having a death in the family, but I feel it would be more cruel to lead you on. While I feel much like a picadore, please brace yourself, my darling. Our engagement is off.
Yes, I know you are as devastated as I in hearing the wretched news. I suggest you don’t do anything crazy, like run with scissors for a few days. I know you must have been visualizing a June wedding, but those fantasies must be directed towards something that you will have a chance in hell of consummating. For you see, Claire called. I was immersed in a new WIP, and had forgotten about our standing 3:00 o’clock appointment. When she did, she informed me that you were not the person foretold in her cards. Talk about a stabbing pain to my head! Can you imagine? It was all I could do to continue to breathe!
It seems you are nothing more than a false flag; a weed in my garden of my delights. As riveting as our conversation has been, it can be no more. Yes, I know you fight the inevitable, but you must move on. Be happy and live life to the fullest you are capable of doing without me. No, I insist.
You know, whatever the hell your name is, it is really, really, really starting to become uncomfortable to communicate with you. I just hate it when people are not able to let go. In fact, I’m starting to feel hemmed in and harassed with your refusal to face reality. If you continue to violate my space with your obsessive behavior, I will have no choice but to inform the authorities.
I Am Starting to Become Afraid
11/19/13 3:30 PM
Now that I know you are not my intended, could you please give me insight into how things are going? I assume the dolt perusing my impeccable passage has finished it by now so where is the prize? Will a check be cut or will the amount be furnished in one big direct deposit? My creditors are eager to find out as I’ve promised to make good on all my expenses incurred by the end of this month. Since my entry was only a formality to being named Goddess of Writing once and for all, I am hoping this will put a period at the end of my sentence. My detractors really need to be put in their place. They continue to nip at my heels. Some have suggested that my works are without true merit—as if I could ever believe such tripe.
Greatness means living alone. I’ve come to realize that now, but since you will never be in that position, could you please do your job and respond to my missive? It would be wondrous if you could. Unless you’re taking the road marked, “Vindictive,” all in an attempt to get back at me for breaking your heart?
So unfair. So, so, so, so, so not nice. *sigh* But your vengeance only means I get to live in your head rent free.
Thanking you in advance for the room and board, I am …
The One That Got Away