What Allyson just got barely qualifies as a rejection letter, though. I mean, this particular agent - one opinion, but the opening salvo of submissions - thinks it's solid. She thinks the book has an audience. She likes the basic way Allyson writes.

There are first-time submission responses out there - man. I've got friends with horror stories.

This was closer to a rave than a rejection. It's fucking brilliant. The book is there; it needs a unifier to sell it, and something that qualifies the snark as snark, rather than criticism, and it's there.

Dayum.

edited for bad typing. I wrote nearly three thousand words on my WIP this morning, and my hands hurt like hell. It's a bad MS day.

Allyson, I would be more than willing to read whatever I haven't already. BtVS and the associated 'verses are the only fandom I've ever been part of, and even that's only this board and the Beta. No cons, no events, nothing but some spirited discussion, and a few Firefly postcard mailings.

Plus, I'd just love to read some more of your essays.

That was not a straight-up rejection, Deb's right. She liked it enough to take time with it...

Amy! You have some serious sex and romance in your inbox, lady.

I got it, Deb, but I'm behind -- freelance stuff and the book and the Big Life Stuff I mentioned before. I'm going to read it tomorrow definitely -- tonight I'm too wiped out to even enjoy it.

Yep - it's a Whenever You Think It Will Be A Calgon Moment read.

Allyson, have you thought about giving stuff to Joyce to read? She's not nearly as fannish as Graham is.

Hey, Allyson. That's fantastic. Of course we'd rather not have a rejection letter, but as everyone else said, a good letter with some important information.

Anyway, I checked with my decidedly-not-in-fandom SO and he says he would be willing to read for you. Let him know what sort of feedback you want, specifically, but he would probably be able to give you some outsider input.

Sure. Profile addie?

This was for picture 9 If I had known my father and I wouldn’t be going to the beach again, I tell myself now, I would have had a better time, not complained as the sand itched me or kept the t-shirt on over the bikini I’d begged for but didn’t have the guts to wear proudly. But of course, if I’d known then what I know now, I’d have known his weird silence was his planning for another life, without my mother and me. But that’s how life is. You always think you have plenty of time.