The part that drove nuts was the marketing Analysis and promotion plan. Also the biography cause my biography does not show expertise in the subject I'm writing about. I finally got around that by -A) Explaining what does qualify me even though it does not fit in a sound Byte. B) Getting some blurbs from some people I can prove know what they are doing.
The thing I have that you don't is the comparative analysis - cause it definitely belongs a category and I had to explain how it differs from similar stuff, and what it has to offer that they don't.
I have one last self-edit to do, and then I'll be ready for feedback. Any chance someone would have time for me to shoot a proposal their way on Tuesday Evening or Wed? Just to spot anything that might alienate an editor or publisher.
I'm no expert, Typo Boy, but I'd be happy to take a look. Profile addie when you're ready.
Allyson thanks so much. That will be great.
Sail, new chapters insent.
Backflung, Erin.
BTW, in case I wasn't strong enough in my e-mail. You are evil.
Me? Never, darling.....
Ugh. I wrote all morning in an absolute allergy FUG, so any bizarre erros please chalk up to the fact that I was a giant snot and sneezing machine.
Sexy, huh?
I am SO sorry I missed last week's drabble topic. I was in SF on Monday, and was all possessed by The Ick when I got back, and the drabble topic totally slipped my mind. Bad Teppy. No cookie.
Challenge #110 (in the garden) is now closed.
Challenge #111 is comfort food. (Which I am now going to go make, and then take my still-sick self to bed.)
Oh, definitely sexaaaay. I'm looking forward to more like the Tess/Trevor scene. ::fans face:: Hawt.
Consolation Tasty-Kake
It’s that time of year where fannish hearts grow light and the leather pants come out of the closet. But not for us...the brokeass white girls. Dag. I’m dragging my own personal ghetto around and cursing the Man in terms that would make a street-corner philosopher proud when it comes.
“ You’ve got a package.”
Despite it being from Baltimore, it is not that kind of package.(That would take care of the boredom thing and the poor thing in one big shot were it not for the risk-of-prison thing and neither of us is especially sure we can jail. We are citizens down to our bones. Damn it.)
“What real people do you know in Baltimore?” Mom says, as always surprised by my online posse’s breadth.
“Oh, there are Balmeristas.”
We ponder again why I’m the only Buffista from my desert clime. “I just don’t understand that.”
Local Buffy fans embarrass me or I would invite someone. But they’re just too...Trekkish or something. Too eager to whip out the fangs and paint their bare chests...gak. I can feel superior for about twenty seconds before I say “This process works because our brains are deductive instruments and theirs are day-old banana pudding.” Ok, they’re not my kind of geek, is the truth of it.
My mother gives me The Baltimore Face...the one that says “I’ll believe this is cool if you say so, but it makes no sense at all.”(She’s getting some practice as the obsession grows with my “Wire” watching, but she knows cookies are good things. Cookies and a box of Tasty-Kake.)
“They’re on Homicide. A few times.”
“Oh.” I quote Homicide like her creepy cousin quotes the Book of Mormon. She knows that’s all there is to say.
But it was the next best thing to Bodymore, and being left on a dark street corner with people I love. My crew sent me a shout-out.
