The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Once when she first had to take me on, and another time when we discussing a revision to my contract.
So I sent an e last week asking if she had read my manuscript since I have to add another 30k words and my old agent was working with me on it. She hadn't finished it and said she'd drop me an email. But you know, it's just 30k words. 95 pages.
I think maybe it's just that my old agent was especially attentive/encouraging. I get the feeling that for my new agent, well, she wouldn't have chosen this project.
OK, a question. Can you ring up your old agent, explain, tell her what you're worried about, and ask for advice about handling it, since she knows her replacement, and you don't?
Do you have the kind of rapport with your ex? Because it sounds as if you do.
Cindy, you read the first two. You haven't read London Calling.
That's it. I still have the emails saved as "new" so I can find them, easily. Now that Spring has sprung, it might just be that time. Would it screw you up to get feedback at this point?
I'm working on Cleveland Rocks, even as we speak. Five (which I can't frickin' wait to write is the big world tour, Book of Days. Six will be a suicide that isn't, Uncle John's Band.
Was one of these the one for which you were considering
Midnight at the Oasis?
Seven, I get to bump off a certain world-class guitar player who is famous for not paying his band members/session people, and who is one of the bigger jerks on the planet (you know who I mean); that one's not titled yet.
Yes, indeedy I do.
Boston - probably with an Aerosmith title, Dream On or Walk This Way or Janie's Got A Gun, will be in Boston.
Okay. These have come out of you so fast, I think I thought you were even further than you are.
Cindy, all three of the first have been tweaked and expanded. I'll send you a new London Calling; check your email.
Oh yeah, I did. She said to drop her an e, explain I need some feedback, and see what she says. She said she'd read it and get back to me, (that she had read some already) and that was a week ago.
It's just, you know, new agent. I'm green, scared of fucking this all up, and now am unsure if I'm moving in the right direction. If not, I sort of need to know so there's time to make fixes before it's due.
I think I'm just used to my old agent checking in with me and waving a pom pom to get me through it. And man, do I need those pom poms.
Here I am, on time with the new drabble topic! Try not to expire from shock....
Challenge #104 (school lunches) is now closed.
Challenge #105 is: you would hardly recognize me.
Allyson, give her another week. If she's buried under stuff, a week isn't really that long.
If there's a deadline, though? You're justified in pinging her hard and fast.
Dust
When last you saw me, I was 22.
I was still beautiful, then. Despite a year of grief, a fugue state, staying alive because I didn't have enough energy to die, I was still beautiful, when last you saw me.
Illness has aged me. The features are the same, still recognisable; did I stay fixed in your mind, that beautiful younger me? Would you know me, now? Did you bother to remember me?
I saw a photo of you, taken just before you died: my beautiful man, white-haired, underweight, exhausted.
I recognised you. I would recognise you, now, then, forever.
Then and Now
Back then, you made me cry in restaurants. I don't even remember what we were talking about. Maybe it was me realizing that for as much as I honestly believed I loved you--as well as a naive 19-year-old from the country could--this wasn't going to last past graduation.
Would you run from me now or just sneer? Regardless, I'd tell you to your face that your politics are shameful, your attitudes toward women are appalling, and you should really get that urge to dominate looked at.
I would look you in the eye, now, and my sardonic smile has made grown men flinch. You'd reduce me to frustrated obscenity before you ever saw tears again. Hell, I barely recognize the me I was then.
Still, the time had its uses. You were damned fun in bed. Would the people you know now recognize the man I could describe from back then? It makes me wish you'd run for high public office so I could be a shocking secret from your past.
Heh. Connie, I remember you writing about this bloke before.
