Just got an e-mail from the acquisitions editor of that US publishing company confirming receipt of my CV and cover letter. She’ll be reviewing them within the next couple of days, and might contact me with more questions. She also thanked me for a prompt response.
Think good thoughts… think good thoughts…
I’m currently reading The Club Dumas and enjoying every moment. I do wish I had a copy of The Three Musketeers on hand, though, for easy access. The illustrations referred to in the other pertinent title in the story (the mythical “Book of the Nine Doors”) are actually included in the text, and believe me, there’s lots of reference and flipping of pages going on. I highly recommend it if you have any interest in the occult, the antiquarian book trade, or French history. And serial stories, of course.
I’ve been having trouble catching my breath all day. I wonder if it’s the humidity.
And about the Vatican issuing an official document opposing the legalisation of same-sex marriages: anyone else remember the phrase “seperation of church and state?”
Pardon me while I hyperventilate – I just sent my CV off to a big US publisher for the position of consultant on a new line of New Age titles. I was recommended.
You can’t hear it, but I’m screaming inside.
It took me an hour to concoct a smooth, sleek, confident, I-Am-The-Uber-Consultant cover letter.
I hate cover letters.
This cover letter rocks.
Yes, I’m still screaming. I’m partly freaked, partly excited.
So if you could all cross your toes or light your candles or call on your personal concept of Deity, or cash in favours with whomever to help me keep sane, I’d appreciate it.
(And this literally on the same day that I wrote my first-ever resignation letter for the badly managed pseudo-magazine I was involved in. There is no such thing as synchronicity. None at all.)
Warning: sputtering rant ahead.
Caitlin says:
According to [Bonnie Hammer, Executive Vice President and General Manager of the Sci-Fi Channel], Farscape failed because it expected too much from the viewer.
Excuse me? Oh, heaven forbid that a creative team actually challenge the audience. Good gods, folks, this is how we push the envelope, evolve, mature – we challenge people!
Oh, wait. Sorry. I forgot. TV isn’t art, according to most channel execs. It’s money and ratings. Silly me. You’re not supposed to think when you switch on the tube; you’re supposed to leave the brain at the door and allow your eyes to glaze.
Whatever came over me?
(As an aside: Space gave me a birthday present by beginning the entire Farscape saga from episode one. I’ve seen three episodes, and I am of the opinion it’s one of, if not the, smartest thing(s) on TV. No wonder it was cancelled. But then, I’m one of those queer people in the minority that wants to use her brain while being entertained.)
I just experienced the most delicious shiver down my spine.
While I’ve been looking forward to The Return of the King this winter, I somehow completely overlooked the fact that the third installment in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings film epic means a Return of the King soundtrack from Howard Shore.
I’d better start making room on my CD shelves now.
Somewhere in the murky depths of my muzzy psyche (made thicker by adjusting to new medication) I realised that I accidentally ended the Great Canadian Novel a month or so ago, four chapters before I ought to have ended it. By having my protagonist conquer a life-long obstacle, I really can’t go any further; everything would be anti-climactic.
This explains my complete and utter disinterest in the storyline for the past while. Now that I’ve figured it out, I can move the Significant Triumph out of the narrative and into a file marked “Grand Finale”, and get on with creating four new chapters exploring other things leading up to it. I had the right idea, just at the wrong time.
Speaking of timing… maybe I ought not to be reading biographies of crippled and/or unstable artists and writers as I come out of a stretch of working with an osteopath to make friends with my spine again and trying to pull things together after a burn-out. Dash it all, though, Frida Kahlo and Virginia Woolf are just so fascinating.
Yes, yes, I know the Divine is all around us, but…
I can’t be the only person who doesn’t truly believe her altar is “on” unless there’s a candle burning somewhere, can I?