erika, woot! And connie, major fun.

Two drabbles:

Where the Bat Lives

There's no light in here, but I know him, every inch. I know his height, the sharp triangular planes of his face. I know his long cape, becoming wings to make him part of the shadow for those not permitted to see. I know his teeth.

My big sister's out there, with some schoolfriends.

"Hey, Alice, where's Deb?"

My sister's voice, bored. "Probably in the closet with her imaginary playmate. She's got an invisible vampire bat who looks like Humphrey Bogart. Fruitcake."

In the closet, the bat and I agree. She'll be the first to go when Mr. Bat emerges.

Where the Birds Live

One big closet, in the bedroom at Erica Road. Showtime at Winterland in a couple of hours; he's already dressed, and I'm rummaging frantically.

"FUCK!"

He lifts and eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing to wear." I wore the cocoa lace last time; the blue velvet's at the drycleaner. Too warm for leather. "ShitshitSHIT."

"No worries. Just wear anything. Jeans, whatever." He reaches in beside me, and pulls out his jacket of choice: blue velvet, embroidered birds up the sleeves, flash for miles. "You always look fantastic, baby."

Truth is, no matter what I wear? There's no competing with Mr. Rock Star's wardrobe.

I just got a rejection, but one I'm actually happy about--almost exactly a year ago, I sent off a conference-requested partial on Lucy's story. The publisher in question is the only one still publishing traditional Regencies, now that AmyLiz's former employer isn't. I pitched both Lucy's and Anna's stories, and she was more interested in the former because it could be a traditional Regency, while the latter totally couldn't. Only the reason she rejected it...wait for it...is that they're not acquiring Regencies at present!

Anyway, I'm glad it was rejected, because I've rejiggered the events of Lucy's story so much in making Anna's backstory as strong as possible, and the rewrite I'm about to start is different enough to feel like a whole 'nother story. I'll be able to reuse a few scenes and the general setting and atmosphere, but the actual plot events have radically altered.

As rejection letters go, it was fairly personal. She was very apologetic for taking so long to get back to me, and said absolutely nothing critical about my writing--just that they don't have a place for that kind of story on their list right now.

Which leads me to a question. I happen to think the publisher in question would be a wonderful match for Anna's story (and by extension the whole trilogy it's to be a part of). I've been paying attention to what the different houses are bringing out, and they're among the top two or three for romances with more grit and historical realism than average. But they happen to be a very hard place to break into without an agent. I'm wondering if I should send her a nice letter thanking her for reviewing my work, mentioning Anna's story, and asking if I could submit a partial, just to take advantage of this wisp of a contact. My only reasons for hesitating to do so is that she doesn't seem to be the editor most involved in their historical program, and I'm afraid a rejection from her would forfeit me the right to get to that publisher through an agent or through querying one of the other editors.

Thoughts?

Susan, I don't think it would hurt to send a letter like that. For one, she might say no, and for another, if she's not buying a lot of historicals, she might recommend you send it to the person who is.

As for your last thought, I've kind of never followed that. I know some publishers do that (if Editor A rejected it, it's Rejected, and that's that), but I think that's...well, stupid. Everyone has different tastes. And if, down the line, you wanted to resubmit through an agent, a quick note letting a new editor know that Editor A rejected it but it's a) a slightly different submission, or b) you think this might be more to Editor B's taste, should suffice.

Thanks, Amy! I'll give it a try and see if I can come up with a wording I'm happy with.

My offering for "out of the closet":
It hardly seems like a time for a revelation. It’s hot and sticky and she’s got Entertainment TV on way too loud again. It’s a special about the Italian model who’s been Lance Steelcock on all those romances. He’s not really your type at all. You like your men tormented. Or English. And you’ve come to realize you like your women with dark flashing eyes and full red lips, but it turns out she’s not prepared to know you even like boys even, even though she knows far more gruesome things about you. The dumb show gets your attention when the model’s school friend says that as a schoolboy, he used to stop traffic in the street.

“Wow, “ you say. “He must be really hot in person.” Just making conversation, not at all meaning that you would like to cover him in butter and be his artichoke. “His photos must not do him justice.” And you think about that, because you hope that yours don’t because otherwise it would be proof of your overarching ugliness. It takes a few minutes for you to notice she isn’t saying anything.

She’s been treating you as an overgrown kid because she helps you find a wet cloth when your fingers get sticky and stuff, although you’d think your morning armpits would be at least a bit of a clue. She mistakes your abstraction for animal fascination and suddenly your womanhood is hard to ignore, your capacity for shallow lusting. Finally, you think, we’ll be able to talk for real.

Instead, she changes the channel.

Lance Steelcock

OK, when I get the dregs of the Buzzworthy Dark Roast out of the right side of my sinus cavity and stop laughing, I'll read the rest of that.

erika, that was wonderful and unexpectedly ouchy at the end.

I should give props to Allyson(the poster) for that. Thanks, Allyson. It gets a big laugh. Actually stuff like that is why I named my detective after you.

Me? Really?

Yeah! I thought you knew that.