A new thread for faster sculling, sorry, scrolling.
What Janet does to children's books
Friday, September 12, 2008
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Welcome to the Book Roast
Our Contests Use Only the Finest Ingredients
Authors Already Sliced and Served
Chris Eldin
Enjoys eating ice-cream, wearing elastic-waistband thongs, and pushing bunnies into canyons. Writes humorous middle-grade novels. Her current WIP is about three hundred cookie bags in. If you're a writer, you understand.
Diesel
Rob Kroese aka Diesel is a severed head floating in a vat. But fortunately he's pretty good with Photoshop.
Jason Evans
Is the mountain wanderer who works in the bustle of Philadelphia. In his writing and photography, he mixes one part moonlight, one part mid-life crisis, one part green countryside, and one part getting run down in the street. When not practicing law or working on his current project, So This Fish Walks Into a Cemetery, he serves as the Twilightkeeper at The Clarity of Night.
Sarah Laurenson
Type A writer, reader, volunteerer, liver; trying to be a human being rather than a human doing while doing too much. A study in contradictions and living life as a paradox - writes light, humorous middle grade and deep, edgy YA.
Shona Snowden
Likes black tea, Apple Macs and koalas in kilts. Shona's short stories have been published in Australia and the UK. She is working on a novel and sharpening her Author Toasting Fork, all the better to enjoy a good Book Roast.
The Dishwasher
Someone has to clean up around here, jump in when patrons become unruly, and otherwise help the chefs by adding special ingredients.
Antonio, the Assistant
Miss Susanna
Mystery Publisher, Ms. Sally Spitfire
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148 comments:
so the roast is on hold whist you fetch your loinfruit?
We can still roast.
Looks like it.
oh good
Getting late here on the west coast anyway.
I'd hate to be toast at the roast.
Hubby has landed, so sadly it's time for me to go as well. I'll have to catch up tomorrow!
Anyway, in the last thread I offered to be the surrogate for the demon love child, but my husband vetoed.
Late? Late?? It's not yet 1am.
Wussies!!!
Night Susan!
Surrogate for a demon love child! There's a memoir!
Oh, gosh, why am I bothering with YA?
Get cracking, K. You've got the query thing down with just the title!
If Janet will be my agent, I'll have it done in two weeks.
I think a surrogacy memoir is not going to fit YA!
Heather had Two Mommies...the Demon Love Child story!
Excellent Kiersten! Send pages at once!
In fact, just type them into the comment box!
"When I first felt it moving inside of me, it wasn't the gentle flutterings I had experienced before. It was as though my very essence, my soul, was slowly being devoured. And then I realized--what had I expected, carrying the child of an editor and an agent?"
Damain Twice Removed:
The Demon Surrogate Love Child Story
The Birth
Sweat and blood dripping from my forehead, I screamed in agony. Finally, feeling my nether-regions ripping with flame, I popped the little monster out. They cleaned it off, and handed it to me. Cradling it in my arms, I searched its blood red eyes for any semblance of humanity. To my horror, it spoke.
"I'm sorry," it said, "you just aren't right for me. But motherhood is a very subjective business, and I wish you the best of luck in finding another child."
You'd think I could spell Damian. It's not that hard. Really.
Remember I said something about time to say your farewells?
Nothing was said about discussing mutant babies!
I'll be back in just under an hour or so and will put any new comments up then, so if you want to keep discussing things without seeing one another's answers, go for it!
LOL
Love this, K!
Wait! You're turning us off? I'm just getting started! I've never tried horror before! It's fun!
I promise we'll be appropriate, Shona...
Mostly.
Susan: You linked just fine.
Your friend wrote:
"Every time I've read a review of one of my books from a dissatisfied reader and they've speculated why I failed with that book, their assumptions have been completely wrong."
If I had a dollar for every author who wrote-off criticism as being wrong, instead of owning up to the fact that their book sucked or at least parts of it sucked, for every writer who dismissed a well- deserved negative review, I'd be rich.
Just because that reader made the wrong assumption about how long this author took to write their book, doesn't mean that reader was wrong in their assessment of it being a bad book.
When it comes to the war between writers and reviewing readers, I will always fight on the side of the readers, a position that has made me none too popular among my fellow scribes.
Ok, well, we need a little judicious pruning here:
I felt it move. It wasn't the gentle flutterings I'd known before. It was as though I was being devoured. But what could I have expected, carrying the child of an editor and an agent?"
Kiersten, I trust you. It's the others I'm worried about.
well, I'm going to take a short break and go troll for ice cream.
Night all.
Oh, fine, Janet. As long as you can sell it.
I was going for drama. If I had known you liked straightforward...
"Fine," I said, dropping the infant onto the table. "Your muttonchops are ridiculous anyway."
Nine months of work and pain wasted. Typical.
Testing
Well, that didn't work.
Okay, okay, Shona. Go have a life.
Kiersten, you rock!
testing.
So, comment moderation is on, or no?
And thanks, Sarah ; ) Always fun to try new genres. And get mercilessly edited.
Ah, comment moderation. Okay. I could sit here and type to myself--which I find surprisingly entertaining, but hey, writer--or I could do something productive.
Or I'll combine the two and be productive on my new memoir.
Okay, now that is funny, Kierst. I really actually laughed out loud. Not just the quietly to myself stuff.
Okay, final teaser for my memoir:
"I just want what you promised me!" I shouted, trying not to cry.
The child--if you could call it that--was on the table in front of me. Evil and Janet looked on in disapproval.
"Yes, well. I'll be taking 15%," Janet said, whipping out a pad of paper. "And of course we've got to charge you the standard fees. Usually that's just copying and shipping, but in this case I'm going to include hospital and psychiatric bills. Evil, what was the advance?"
Evil waved his hand dismissively in the air. "Oh, I'll send you the check, Janet."
She smiled at me. "There you have it."
I closed my eyes against the red glare of EE's gaze. "And what about...it?"
"We've already got a blog all set up for the little monstrocity."
"So its only purpose is to mock aspiring writers? That's the point of all of my pain and suffering? Aren't there enough of you already?"
"Oh, no. It's going to encourage writers, develop friendships, join writing groups, and convince losers that they're good enough to be published. Writers are getting too jaded; we need some fresh meat to feed the shark. I haven't made someone cry in ever so long."
Evil and Janet started laughing, and the baby joined in--the sound so discordant and overwhelming that I passed out. When I woke up, all of them were gone.
I still haven't seen that check.
I dunno--I could probably write a scarier book about my own kids, and they don't have any demon in them.
Just a lot of vomit.
Huh. Missed all the action as per usual.
wipes tear from eye
condensed alcohol in air stings
Are we still on whisky stories?
Here's one.
"What? No rum to light the Christmas pudding? Hey — why don't we try some of this Laphroaig?..."
Sure beats plucking, girls.
*peers in the door*
Anyone here?
It's almost 3am, my time. I have to go drag Moonrat out of the Karaoke bar.
What I really have to do is unspackle my face and brush my fangs and think about narrative arcs.
Or is that narrative orcs?
I'm never quite sure.
I'll be back in the morning: morning is defined as something after noon.
Well, comment moderation told me it was on. Apparently it lied.
Do wine counts?
I just popped in to say Hi, but I see that there's quite a company here, having quite a fun time.
:)
Cheers,
SzF.
Cast: approx. 8 young(ish) men, NJ. Mid-80s (the decade, not the young(ish)ness). The scene: a bachelor party, perhaps even one of mine, which began at a friend's house.
You know the saying that goes something like "Whiskey and beer, never fear; beer and whisky, always risky?" or wait, no, is it "Whiskey ON beer, never fear..."? Well, after a tumbler of each, I was confused about it then, too. (The "beer" was Molson Golden; the whiskey, Wild Turkey.) So I came up with what I imagined a clever solution: alternate them -- lay them down in layers.
Sometime in the middle of the 3rd or perhaps 4th WT (confused abounds, obviously, but I can tell you it followed a Molson), with the rest of the group still gathered in the back yard, I found myself before a bathroom mirror. I really need to just close my eyes for a few seconds, I thought, and transported to the side of the bed in my friend's guestroom.
Did I say "just close my eyes"? How about "close my eyes with a vengeance"? Noticing my absence, the guys wandered inside sometime later. They weren't sure if I were really out-out or just snoozing, so one of them fetched a couple ice cubes from the freezer. Which he proceeded to put (NO, this isn't THAT story) on my eyelids. They stood in a ring around the bed, glasses in hand, watching the ice cubes melt for about 15 minutes. Then they decided they'd seen enough, removed the remaining ice, and went out -- left the house -- to do the more traditional bachelor-party stuff.
My favorite part of the story: when they were seated at the various tables at each of the dives they stopped at, they insisted that the waiter bring them an extra chair. (Which unfailingly cracked the staff up: "This is a bachelor party? But you left the [significant wedding-participant-to-be] passed out back at the house?!?") The chair sat there throughout, testifying silently to the manliness of my friends.
To this day, Wild Turkey is still my favorite (commodity) whiskey. And it still brings moisture to my eyes.
Good morning all!
:-)
Kiersten!!
That's the most heartwarming story I've read in years!
Did the spawn have a name?
:-)
I just read on the Query Shark that Janet is accepting $20 bills with query letters.
*sneaks off to put $25 with my query.*
In my dim and literal way: My Story.
Long ago and far away in a galaxy noted for its sylvan solitude, I had my first drink.I was eight. Measles epidemic.
In desperation, as my fever climbed past 103F and no spots appeared, my mother fed me a hot whiskey toddy.
It worked.The fever dropped and I became appropriately roseate.
But to this day I cannot stand the smell of whiskey.
I like rum.
Good Lord. I missed some good crap last night.
Is it too late for a real life whiskey story - complete with boobs and bar stools and a guy with his glasses punched off his face?
'Gmorning. I'm all caught up from last night.
Janet, I have a Shakespeare phrase book here somewhere. Maybe it has an index.
One of Jes' bachelor parties? hmmm....
:-)
Szelsofa, So glad you stopped by. I'll bet you have a good whiskey story somewhere in your closet...
Bernita, That's a cute story!!
Robin, only tell it if you supply the details!
:-)
Chumplet, I hope you can find it! (though you should squeeze some mileage out of it... hehehe!)
"The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns"
Hamlet iii. 1
Kiersten's demon child story rocks.
A man's boat capsizes miles off the rugged Scottish north coast.
He washes up on a deserted island, with nothing but the clothes on his back.
He builds a small shelter, finds food and water, but misses civilization more with each passing day.
While walking on the beach one morning, he sees a beautiful, redheaded woman emerge from the ocean, wearing a scuba tank and a wetsuit.
She eyes him up and down, then says, "You look like you could use a smoke."
She unzips a pocket on one arm of her wetsuit, pulls out a Cuban cigar, hands it to the man, then lights it for him with her waterproof lighter.
The man smokes slowly, and tells her it is the finest cigar he has ever smoked.
"How about a drink?" the woman asks.
She unzips another pocket, reaches in, and pulls out a one-litre silver-plated flask.
"It's 17-year-old, single malt scotch, aged in oak," the woman tells him.
The man is almost beside himself with joy, as he sips and savors the drink.
The woman then begins to unzip the front of her wetsuit.
"Want to play around?" she coos.
"Damn!" the man drawls.
"You got a set of golf clubs in there, too?"
Ah, yes, Wolf - a classic!
The Shakespeare quote is from To Be or Not To Be.
wait, someone mentioned whiskey. where's the whiskey?
It's in my coffee.
Re: the poem -- it seems that's not the quote Janet was looking for. I looked up several key words in the phrase book and they keep pointing back to that line.
So, go figure...
Morning all:) I missed all the action last night..
Holy crap you guys get up early.
And Moonrat! Shoudn't you be off tormenting geezers at lunch or something?
Who brought the coffee?
you sure did miss the action!! you all did!! what was everyone doing here when you could have been at the karaoke bar?
just kidding. it becomes obvious *i* missed the action! but janet, what would you sing if we DID go to karaoke?
I would sing "Nearer My God To Thee" the song they sang when the Titanic sank, naturally, since my singing is much like a disaster of EPIC proportion.
thx chumplet, glad you still like it ;)
just a wee deoch n dorris is plenty fur a ol wuff! lol
I find it damn unhospitable that I have to fetch my own coffee at this party. Where are minions when you really need them.
Moonie, do you you have minions? EE has minions.
I want minions!!
even with whiskey? i know this place that does great rob roys.
i don't have minions!! where can we get them? is there some kind of minion shop?
i do have interns. i find, though, it doesn't amount to NEARLY the same thing.
i just ground some fresh colombian arabica beans, and am making a potful, anyone want some?
also have fresh cream... but no sugar, cuz i'm sweet enough! :P
byo single malt, though ;) lol
moonie doesn't have minions. instead she has a mischief...and quite a pretty set it is, growing almost monthly, it seems.
but no one has a snake like you do, janet. :)
Do you see any trends ahead for nonfiction? Or any trends that are in decline? (Are we done with vampires yet?)
When my hubby worked for a private boys' school, I sang karaoke at the Christmas party. "Natural Woman"
Then the Dean's wife and I sang New York New York together. We were a hit!
Minion store!
This is New York, I bet they deliver.
Interns aren't minions for sure. I think I terrify my interns. They stare at me blankly sometimes when I ask them if there is anything good in the slush.
@laughingwolf, I got scotch by the botteful, no problem.
We need to send someone out for sugar though, cause you can bet I'm not all that sweet neither.
@precie. Trends, schmends.
The thing about trends is we're working so far ahead of publication that trends are just the last thing I think about.
For example, we have a book in our office being handled by another agent. We're all atwitter about how cool it is.
It goes to auction with six houses. This is when we hear about OTHER books in the pipeline that are similar to this one.
These books won't be pubbed for a year, and who knows if they will be the start of a trend.
All we know is editors are hearing a lot about this topic right now.
I have to go to the orifice now. Last night I dreamed my computer at work was the only one that functioned. I was putting out the whole newspaper while everyone sat around and had coffee. I was so mad!
Seeya in a few...
and vampires will never die.
Isn't that one of their problems?
@chumplet, oh that job thing, what a bother that is. I myself like to avoid paid employment.
You guys are so full of p&V this morning. And I'm suppose to be writing. heck that can wait, it's much for fun here. Besides the world not ready for another alien story from me :)
I'll take some of that coffee if it's hot
I have Splenda.
I'm guarding my coffee!
stingey brat :)
well, I like a tad of booze in my coffee anyway :)
best hurry, janet... coffee goes quickslike here in the great white north ;)
you get the last mugful, peggy
that means i just gotta make another pot, i guess...
Whenever I see the word "loinfruit," I don't think of offspring, I think of a banana. Also a couple of grapes.
why thank you gobs, the last cup is the strongest cup. Just a a tadof this here and hmm mm mm..excellent. Its a beautiful morning here in Wisconsin.
I really like the word loinfruit.
EE has minions
Moonrat has the Mischief
Janet has Chums
I think EA is the only one lacking a cult name.
:-)
Right now I have the yawns, and no more coffee.
This is not good
You know, with all these editors and agents popping in, the temptation is strong to copy and paste a manuscript in the comments box.
Just saying is all.
;-)
Complaints from the Things within the past 24 hours (in no particular order):
Thing 2: I only have one childhood, and you're ruining it.
Thing 1: Why do you insist on keeping the family together? That's not normal.
Thing 1: You take too much charge of our lives.
Thing 1 and Thing 2: Your pancakes are too fluffy.
*****************
As I'm hauling them to school today, I'm thinking what time the liquor store opens.
@Chris, last person who did that also got a critique and a rewrite, but that was at 2am.
Go for it, Chris!!
Janet,
Who is your favorite client?
OMG! Okay, I have no shame. This is a prologue I'm obsessing over. It's 455 words.
Cut away:
Once upon a time on West Roxbury Main Street, a well-dressed businessman driving a fancy red car while giving his children gobs of candy came darn near close to squishing Chipping Camden to death.
Chipping Camden, being West Roxbury’s fattest and loudest mouse, screamed a thunderous scream and rolled all over the sidewalk on his beachball-shaped belly.
“I’m injured! I’m injured!” cried the pudgy mouse, holding up his flattened tail.
“He’s injured! He’s injured!” cried the sticky children, pointing at the mouse’s tail.
“Ssshhh! Ssshhh!” cried the fancy businessman, rubbing mouse fur off his right front tire.
Crowds gathered and fingers wagged. Somebody calling himself Mister Esquire dashed over with a mouse-sized wooden cane. The businessman had to escape from the embarrassment of it all.
“I’ll make you a deal,” the businessman whispered to the mouse. “If you stop crying and screaming, I’ll give you a map I bought yesterday.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn and yellow piece of paper that was folded into the size of a thumb. “I bought it from Mr. Chance, owner of Chance’s Magic. He said it was magical, but the magic was about to expire. He sold it to me for half price.”
“Magical?” Chipping Camden whimpered. He took the paper and sniffed it.
“Mr. Chance told me not to do anything bad with the magic. He warned me not to make any children cry.” The businessman handed his children more candy.
“Why not?” Chipping Camden asked. He saw nothing wrong with a good cry every now and again.
“I imagine something awful would happen.” The businessman smiled lovingly at his children. “Although I can’t imagine anyone making a child cry.”
Chipping Camden and the businessman exchanged a few more words, and by the time the crowds had departed, Chipping had himself a bit of magic to play with.
Chipping spent the rest of the month practicing his magic on Marvin, the neighbor boy. Marvin would make a wish, a funny picture would pop into Chipping’s mind, and Marvin’s wishes would end up Chippified. (A Chippified wish is one in which the child only gets part of what he wants and is then placed in some kind of embarrassing or even dangerous situation that Chipping the Mouse thinks is funny.)
Since nothing bad happened the first time Marvin cried, Chipping decided to grant him more wishes. After the tenth wish, Marvin had had enough. He prattled and tattled about how children should be treated with gentle hugs and kisses. Chipping was not a touchy, feely kind of mouse. It became time for Chipping to leave, so he went next door to Tony’s house, swinging his cane and dancing a jig. Thus begins our story.
That is a very fun prologue:)
@Chris, liquor stores deliver.
Just sayin'
Thanks Stephanie!
:-)
Janet, maybe in New York. But here in the country, I'd hear the tractor cranking up the road. Maybe even a tired old nag with a load of liquor and smokes.
You never know.
Chipping Camden, West Roxbury’s fattest and loudest mouse, screamed a thunderous scream and rolled all over the sidewalk on his beachball-shaped belly.
“I’m injured! I’m injured!” cried the pudgy mouse, holding up his flattened tail.
“He’s injured! He’s injured!” cried the sticky children, pointing at the mouse’s tail.
“Ssshhh! Ssshhh!” cried the fancy businessman,(who was the cause of the consternation)
rubbing mouse fur off the right front tire of his spiffy red roadster--the instrument of Chippy's consternation.
Crowds gathered and fingers wagged.
The businessman had to escape from the embarrassment of it all. “I’ll make you a deal,” the businessman whispered to the mouse. “If you stop crying and screaming, I’ll give you a map I bought yesterday.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn and yellow piece of paper that was folded into the size of a thumb. “I bought it from Mr. Chance, owner of Chance’s Magic. He said it was magical, but the magic was about to expire. He sold it to me for half price.”
“Magical?” Chipping Camden whimpered. He took the paper and sniffed it. “Mr. Chance told me not to do anything bad with the magic. He warned me not to make any children cry.”
“Why not?” Chipping Camden asked. He saw nothing wrong with a good cry every now and again.
“I imagine something awful would happen. Although I can’t imagine anyone making a child cry.”
Chipping spent the next week practicing his magic on Marvin his next door neighbor.
When Marvin made a wish, a funny picture popped into Chipping’s mind and
(and here is where you lose it. You're telling, not showing, and telling something that didn't make much sense here. Use one example such as Marvin wished for a draught of whiskey and seven naked wenches but ended up with a hot toddy and his a winch on the bumper of his 4x4...well, ok, you get the idea)
@Chris, my favorite client is OW!! OW!!! I just got zapped by the laser glare of 47 pairs of eyes, and text messaged by a couple more!
Morning, all! Think I'm caught up.
Kiersten: LOVE the demon-baby's first line.
Bill: The "loinfruit" thing? That's just dirty.
Chris: Janet's favorite client is ME, of course. Sheesh. Except when it's all the others.
Janet:
Sorry about that. I think I had the laser glare turned on HIGH.
*jumps up and down in thankful glee!!*
Thank you!!!! Thank you!!!!
:-)
*waves at Susan Adrian* You found me over here too!
LOL Susan!!
I can see she makes all her clients feel like favorites.
:-)
yes my favorite client is Susan Adrian except when it's Bill Cameron except when it's Satan. Or something like that.
My last upload to Kindle is lost in the ether. Hmmm
Stephanie:
You're THAT Stephanie?
That's it. You're stalking me. :)
one-click my ASS!
Getting into my Kindle account is seven hundred clicks AND a partridge in a pear tree.
Why they don't leave it as my default account I don't know.
And 28 minutes to upload a .doc.
Hmmmm
They might be getting busier than they thought they'd be.
any time, peggy... i'm up in new scotland, aka nova scotia ;)
stephanie, if you must use chemicals :O
janet, who absconded with the pot? :O
chris, thx again for keeping my name in your game ;)
in our mid teens, sis and i, she's 18 mo younger, got into some homemade dandelion wine at some "friend's" place... good, initially... but when we got back home, dad confronted us and asked if we'd been drinking?
both of us, white as sheets and just as flighty, denied it... but we got caught when she upchucked it all on dad's shoes... kinda hard to deny THAT! :O lol
Oooh, Kindle. I'm still on the fence about it. But I can totally see how convenient it would be for agents and editors.
I'm loving that Query Shark site. Is it only open to queries for completed manuscripts?
ChrisEldin @ 8:53: Yes, one of my bachelor parties. As in, one per bachelorhood. For my third and final (the one that has stuck, the "charm" as they say): didn't have one, didn't need one, didn't want one.
And for that time around, I upgraded to Maker's Mark. :)
precie, you can send a query letter to the Shark for anything you want.
Fair warning though; if it's good, I ask for pages. You don't have pages to send, I send the assssistant to come get them.
That's never a happy knock at the door.
Although how a snake actually knocks on the door, I do not know.
Ok, 11am. Short break to actually do something remotely resembling work. Not too much of course.
Surprised to hear vampires still have life left in them.
Is there anything 100% Dead Dead Duck at the moment?
I know I'm awfully late to this party, but Janet-- if you need a doctor's note for the medicinal whiskey, just let me know. ;)
Do agents have a list of publishers who will look at novels in the 50,000 word area?
*bangs hands on table in rhythm*
Query the Shark
Query the Shark
Query the Shark
I'm here at the orifice, just had to catch up...
EE, I don't track eds by what kind of word count they look at, but I have sold books at fewer than 50K. It wasn't the easiest thing I've done, but mostly it's all in the pitch.
@hldyer, whaddaya mean IF.
Of course I need it.
MANY copies so I can have one on file with ever liquor store in the borough.
oh my..sorry about the deleted comment. I was trying to edit..duh, no way to edit.
..more coffee!
Whew. Morning, all.
Janet--I hope you were okay with the ending of my memoir. Of course we all know you would never do that to a writer (withhold a check). But a surrogate for your demon baby is fair game, right?
And thanks for all of the nice comments, guys. Having absolutely no drinking stories whatsoever, I had to come up with something.
How DID EE get all of us as minions? I don't know, but I'm proud to be one.
@Kiersten, that's why we call it urban FANTASY!
Not only do we not withhold checks, we actually deposit them in your account if you're away and can't do so, or wire transfer the money if you need it right away.
Of course, your check was delivered to EE; he said he earned it the old fashioned way.
I'm not sure exactly what he meant.
With EE, I don't even want to know.
So, clearly this is highlighting my laziness (but give a girl a break--my kid just peed on the floor--like I said, terrifying without being demons), but what genres are your favorite to represent, Janet?
my practice is primarily commercial crime fiction. That said when someone comes along with a stunning YA urban fantasy, I snatch it right up.
I don't do anything that's close to romance at all.
I have some stuff that's called science fiction, but I call it near future noir.
Kiersten, Did you not watch "Dora the Murderer?"
hehehe!
Just kidding!
[That said when someone comes along with a stunning YA urban fantasy, I snatch it right up. ]
*snorgle*
(Am I still your only YA client?)
Comment moderation was on when I posted.
I missed Janet, I am so sad.
Hrm...I think I'd better submit my query to your shark then.
I love sharks.
Drinking stories? Should I tell the one about going into the hotel with the firemen again?
Kiersten, you've gotta win something for "birth." even if it isn't a contest, that's a winning post and a half.
@SusanAdrian...uh, yea, but stilll, you're the ONLY YA urban fantasy I've ever leaped upon, so there.
Miss K is always a winner. Her wit and writing are wonderful.
Janet, is there a chance you would ever rep fantasy?
I'll second that, Julie.
Oops, sorry, epic fantasy.
Ah, shucks, thanks. I entertain myself; it's nice to know other people like it, too!
Janet, I don't really know how to say this without sounding like I'm fawning, but I'm really looking forward to your workshops at Surrey.
so..what would a collection of stories be called involving 10 yr olds..think of the goonies only adventures in almost real life..if you call big foot etc reg life. hahaha. hey its the kids story I just wrote down their adventures. would it be YA? just wondering?
Hey, Chris — any chance of a new thread?
I can't turn the winch on my computer fast enough...
Talk is cheap. Bring whisky and a twenty dollar bill to Surrey--that's appreciation babeeeeeee!
Miss K. I wrote several children's books for Will. They were so much fun to write for him. Hard to believe he has gone from a dinosaur crazy, cat-toting munchkin to a cat-toting soldier so quickly.
I love children's books. They are magical.
Epic fantasy..nope. I don't read it enough to know what's good, what's marketable, what's fresh, what's been done to death.
My idea of epic fantasy is royalty statements.
Peggy:
A book with 10-year-old protags would likely be middle grade.
If you're writing for kids and haven't checked it out, go to the Blueboards! It's a wonderful community and resource.
Blueboards
Hey, I have several twenties stashed away. I do pay attention. I also plan to keep the bartender on notice to keep you well supplied.
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