Editors are fuckwits too

Miss Snark trotted briskly to her office this morning, carefully caffeinated
and ready to follow up with several dear editors on the Next Great Novel.

Sadly Miss Snark never even got to first base. She might as well play for the Cubs at this rate.

Editor #1 has moved to a new company. Friday was her last day.
Some editors will do an email notice of such changes, but most times
you're left holding the manuscript cover lettter with a forlorn look. If the
editor who asked to see the ms leaves/gets fired/changes jobs or divisions,
mostly it's a sunk deal.

Editor #2 is leaving her job and moving to some odd place called...Maine.
I got out the map to see where it was. This editor was a sweetie and sent
my project to a young editor eager to build a list. Of course, young editors
eager to build lists have little budget and almost no autonomy soI end up pitching to her, her boss, and her boss's boss sometimes. Yes it's a part of the deal but ohhh
man. The trick is to get past the people who can only say no and find the people who can say yes, and yes with enough money to make it worthwhile.

Editor #3 is pretty sure she's never spoken to me before, heard of me, had lunch with me and if she met me on the street would think I was someone else. The cover letter on the manuscript that referenced our telephone call and lunch last spring were clearly products of my fevered imagination. If, and she was pretty snippy about the IF, IF the manuscript is here, she would have passed it along to Editor X who handles that line.

Well of course, I didn't make it up. It is a total waste of my time and money to make up conversations. Between running a 400 page manuscript through the copy machine and sending it flying through the streets of Gotham on a bike messenger's ass, every submission costs about $20. If I don't sell this tome, that's a sunk cost. I don't get paid for it. Ever. Not if the author's next book sells, not if the author wins the lottery and wants to be good friends.

So, ya, I don't send manuscripts unless I've pitched it and you've said yes. Frigging disorganzied bitch.

oops, I mean. "overworked, underpaid, underappreciated hardworking woman".
Ya right.
I gotcher under appreciated riiiiiiight here.


River Man said...

sounds like a typical Monday....

I linked your blog - hope that's okay. If not, let me know.



kitty said...

Totally off subject here ...
Since I picture agents and editors working amidst clouds of tobacco smoke, overflowing ashtrays at their elbows, and since you mentioned Mayor Mike in your location, have his NO SMOKING! rules & regs affected how agents and editors conduct their business?

Miss Snark said...

Dear Ric, Links are a great compliment, thank you.

Miss Snark said...

Dear Kitty,
Clouds of smoke?? How very film noir!
There hasn't been any smoking allowed INSIDE buildings in NYC for years. Mayor Mike (Miss Snark's hero) only increased the scope of the law to include bars. That was the big hullabaloo.

Now, ginsoaked as Miss Snark has been on more than one ocassion, she tries very hard to not actually conduct business in bars. It's too hard to read anything in the dim light, and while Miss Snark does look fetching in a miner's helmet, it's hard to actually read with one.

Mostly this is a phone biz.
Which is good, cause Miss Snark gives great phone.

chryscat said...

Nice euphemism. LMAO

It's so nice the literary world is liberally sprinkled with people that don't have consideration for others. Or know their ass from the elbow. But I digress. Really.