Uncreated Conscience

My long weekend was not exactly very restful as I was far more social than my introverted heart could handle. I am back in the office today (marginally more quiet because El Jefe is on vacation), reveling in the quiet time that comes from sitting in a beautiful brownstone in Chelsea reading manuscripts and considering queries.

These days I am seeing rather a lot of the same from those soliciting representation. Initially I had some trouble reading for El Jefe because while his tastes are broad and varied, he is well known for representing thrillers, a genre I don’t read. I don’t know what’s good! I thought.

The thing is, I do. Even without having read them. Why? Because for heaven’s sake, they all sound the same. Names may be interchangeable, plots somewhat variable, but at the end of the day, nothing sticks out in my brain. Inevitably there is an ex-cop/ex-Marine/ex-soldier/lawyer/policeman/what-have-you who must solve a murder or a crime before time runs out. The stakes are either not high enough or else they are ludicrous. The setting is overdone; I don’t care if you claim it is a “also a portrait of life in small town [insert locale of choice here].” I assure you that unless you’re Thornton Wilder, the vast majority of us won’t care.

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Dear Desperate To Have a Chance Slush Slogger:
I pity your circumstances, truly, but no.

Dear Aspiring Artiste/Actor/Author Slush Slogger:
I don’t care who your book is dedicated to and I especially don’t care if I don’t know who they are.

Dear “Old, Ugly, Mean, Impoverished, Disaffected, Cantankerous” Slush Slogger:
You are not helping your case.

Amazingly, today’s slush pile culled a lot more requests than rejections.

Well, not really. Last night Wicked Cool Riley and I had a Superbowl party at our apartment and in an effort to contribute somewhat to the festivities, I attempted to make guacamole. When you live with someone who cooks as well as my roommate, any kitchen endeavours you make can be intimidating, but doubly so when you’re someone as inept as me. I made a four-layer dip of refried beans, guacamole, sour cream, and cheese and I think it went over pretty well.

There are three things I miss about California: 1) sourdough bread (which exists on the East Coast but is not nearly as ubiquitous), 2) citrus, and 3) avocados. The nearest grocery store carries them, but they were each as hard a rock. Fortunately the grocer down the way (who only sells produce) had a few ripe ones. Some olive oil, lemon juice, salt, and garlic and onion salt and voila!, you have guacamole. (I hate onions, especially when raw which is why my recipe only includes onion salt.)

This year’s Superbowl lacked the emotional investment of last year’s (last year Bear’s–and mine by association, I suppose–team came in as the underdog against a team with a perfect season and won) and the commercials were equally lackluster with the exception of the Doritos Crystal Ball.

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I know I promised to review some books & I swear that shall be done. Mostly I haven’t had time during the day and at night I come home and immediately fall into bed.

Books To Be Reviewed After the Cut

1. The Queen of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner
2. The King of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner
3. The Adoration of Jenna Fox by Mary E. Pearson
4. 100 Girls (a graphic novel) by Adam Gallardo & Todd Demong

Yesterday was primarily spent on an organizing spree for my boss at work but I was allowed to wade through the queries at the end of the day, which I had been looking forward to since my day one. Most of my time at Writers House has been spent reading partial and full manuscripts and offering my editorial comments but I really wanted to jump into the slush pile and pick out the stuff that interested me. (Instead of reading the requests of my predecessor.)

Of course, I have to keep my boss (and her boss)’s reading tastes in mind–thrillers/mysteries (which I’m afraid I have no eye for), women’s fiction/romance, and health-related non-fiction–but after a while I got into the rhythm of looking at genres I wouldn’t ordinarily pick up.

You know, I always thought that Miss Snark might have exaggerated some of the ridiculousness of the queries that land in her inbox but I was wrong. Very wrong.

Dear Prosaic Slush Slogger:
I refuse to read a 250,000 novel-in-progress. I don’t care how “unique” and “creative” the hook is (which it isn’t); no one in her right mind would willingly read an unfinished 1000 page novel about ghosthunters.

Dear I Have A Personal Relationship With Christ Slush Slogger:
If My Friend Jesus were any bit as entertaining as the idea of Buddy Christ I would have requested you…

Dear I Can’t Read The Directions Slush Slogger:
If you can’t obey simple instructions, then you deserve to rejected outright.

Dear My Book Is Fiction–I Swear!–But I Need To Give You My Life Story In My Query Slush Slogger:
You’re not kidding anyone.

Perhaps I am mean. Perhaps I am quick to dismiss a work of genius–if I would only just read a sample!–but no. I am content to be mean. I am shallow and judgmental and I’m totally okay with that.

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