By Barbara Poelle
(still typing on phone so love me despite my flaws)
So I was all set to blog all about my resolutions, you know, drink less, accessorize more, blah blah blah, and I was playing with the wording on how I want to stucture my work/ life goals, like maybe work only 80 hours a week and yell at Husband for 10, when I received a query for a non-fiction project. Now, you know I am pretty picky about my non-fic and, in fact, right now I am basically changing into a were-whale everyday as I throw myself, foam and barnacles flinging hither and thither, into the ocean of submissions to find a literary thriller for 2010, (but omg sharon d- Knockdown? we are soooooo having a happy phone call when I get back) so I was honest with the non-fic and said that since the subject matter wasn't close to my heart and I didn't feel like I would beach myself in Cabo to have it, I will be stepping aside. I sent a kind and personal pass. On vacation. On New Years.
In response I received an email that was as insulting as it was bizarre and concluded with a foamy spew of vitriol that could only be aptly performed by Daffy Duck on a bad acid trip. The best part was that it ended with "you will be kicking yourself that you passed on this....please refer me to a colleague that would actually know how to handle this."
Awwwwwwwwesome.
Now, okay, I am not made from spun glass- momma can take a punch. But there was something so delightful to me about hammering home what an idiot I am and then asking me for a referral. Furthermore, clearly this woman has not done her research, as I highly doubt passing on her proposal will even rank on my List Of Things I Will Be Kicking Myself Over. In fact, just to solidify the fact that my fabulous olive skin will remain free of Kate Spade gouging over her, let me just give Non-Ficky the top five and she can see what a non-factor she is:
Top 5 List Of Things I Am Kicking Myself Over To Date:
5. 2008 RWA. Conga line. Screaming "Perrrrrry!"
4. Not going double for nothing on the Sully bet with Reid to make it a chicken suit, you tube, and tub of noodles.
3. Jenny Gardiner. There. I said it. And we will NEVER speak of this again. Good day.
I SAID GOOD DAY.
2. When Agent Double E and I had between two and nineteen manhattans and I fell out of the cab at Husband's feet promising I would be fine for big family dinner. I wasn't. And barfing quietly in the powder room is so very difficult.
1. During an auction bid I hollered, "I crap 20K for breakfast!". Obviously, that was not exactly what I meant and somewhere in the Midwest my mother burst into tears for no discernable reason.
So there you have it. Five days into 2010 and bruise free. But really, all fun and games aside, the real truth of it is, you absolutely create the right team for yourself in the end, so every time you hear a pass from an agent, you are one step closer to creating that perfect union with the right representative who will get you that great deal. No one misses out on anyone because it was never your ideal match if you didn't match. Get it?
But if it's a brilliant literary thriller, a la The Bright Forever, send it to me and ONLY me.
Happy New Year!
