Janet

She wasn't obsessed with his stardom. She was obsessed with the man, Bobby himself.

Remember that mysterious shooting? She snuck into Marin General to taunt his wife: he doesn't want you he wants me hahahahaha otherwise he wouldn't have shot you.

She knew where Bobby lived. She'd camp out, waiting, watching for him.

One morning, he came out and found her sorting through his trash: empty milk cartons, wrappers, used tissues, in tidy piles.

When the cops showed up, she had a broken guitar string coiled up in her pocket, and she was grinning. Today, we've named her type: stalker.

Remember that mysterious shooting? She snuck into Marin General to taunt his wife: he doesn't want you he wants me hahahahaha otherwise he wouldn't have shot you.

This paragraph does not fit the rhythm of the rest in my opinion. Otherwise sad and scary.

Deb, I can't it -- your drabble makes me think of the song "Bobby's Girl."

Because I am a dork.

I know every word to that song. You are not alone.

Deb's drabble would could make a creeptastic scene. In my head, Minear would direct it, and would have Bobby's Girl playing in the background, on a tinny sounding transistor radio.

True story. The chick's name was Janet Sears. She was obsessed with Bob Weir of the dead; after the shooting, Janet actually did sneak into Marin General and stood there announcing that Frankie was being Punished for "stealing" Bobby from Janet.

Janet was an incredible freak. She came into Mandrake's, our bookstore in San Rafael, and wandered around boasting about it, and about going through Bobby's trash. She showed us the guitar string as if it was some sort of trophy.

Creeeeeeeeeepy. Marlene remembers her.

deb, can you tell me a little bit about what the editing process is like? What happens? What can I expect? Is it collaborative? Does it take a long time?

deb, can you tell me a little bit about what the editing process is like? What happens? What can I expect? Is it collaborative? Does it take a long time?

I think - Amy can confirm or not on this, I suspect - that it may be vary wildly from editor to editor and from house to house. One thing will hold true: the time it takes is going to depend entirely on what the editor perceives as necessary rewriting.

My process for Haunted Ballds has gone like this, so far: I submit the final manuscript; it's generally in the ballpark of what they want/expect/specify for a word count. Ruth, my editor, signs off on it (they've received it, they've accepted it, that part of my contractual obligation is fulfilled, and any advance due on acceptance goes into the processing mill, and cheque will be sent to my agents).

She then reads it cover to cover, decides what needs rewriting, makes her own small corrections and lets me know about larger problems she sees with it. I've been extremely lucky on that one; of all of them so far, only Matty Groves needed anything major, and that was just trimming down to size, because they'd budgeted for a smaller cover price based on the first two. She then sends it to the layout and copy editor (aka Mr. Post-It, damn his eyes).

When they get it back, with a deadline attached - I'm told most publishing houses actually expect reasonable deadlines, but I don't believe in the Tooth Fairy, either - her assistant pings me to let me know to expect it, and tells me when they need it back. It gets here and I sit down with it open on my desk, the original MS open on my screen, and a blank browser window for the typewritten acceptance or rejection of changes explanation I'm going to type.

I go over it with a fine-tooth comb, literally, compare, decide what gets accepted and what gets rejected. I bundle up the entire pile and send it back, with something I can use to cnfirm that they did in fact receive it when they claim they didn't.

Allyson, Deb's got the basic gist of it, although like she said, it will vary from house to house and editor to editor, in terms of deadlines and what form changes/revisions take (i.e. on paper or electronically, etc.).

The editing process *should* be collaborative, in the sense that no one should be makng wholesale changes to what you've written without input or permission. As Deb said, changes should be suggested, and you should make them, not someone else. That's the first step -- having your editor read the thing as a whole, and then sending what's usually called a revision letter, specifying questions, concerns, or suggestions, which you then address.

Wow. Just, wow.

I just lost my agent.

Barbara decided they don't want to rep me because of the outside stuff. She's adamant. I am officially without representation.

Am I having fun yet?