It's been of those days when, truly, the world would benefit from my retirement to a convent.
Convents and vows of silence being hard to find on short notice, Miss Snark instead prevailed upon her bosom buddies to retire to the nearest watering hole to commiserate.
Miss Snark was recounting her tale of woe and like all woe tales, it soon developed into a contest of woe woe woebegone, gently down a gin.
Here's one of my faves:
Agent Nice is briskly conducting biz on phone. Call waiting beeps. Agent asks her author to wait, picks up call. Muffled odd breathing. Hang up. Agent returns to author, conversation ensues.
Agent conferences in editor with author. Several important things on the agenda are covered. Call waiting beeps. Agent ignores.
Call waiting beeps again, agent ignores.
Call ends, agent picks up voice mail. Self important message starts with "I've carefully researched you and I need an agent, call me" followed by two minute pitch, followed by "I don't think a letter is really the way to go."
Agent deletes message.
(Well, of course, you know what happens.)
It's Mr. Self Important.
First words out of his mouth "I've been trying to reach you all morning; you're very hard to get a hold of."
(Miss Snark gives up trophy for woe of the day, but she's STILL wondering why "a letter isn't the way to go" on a query from "an established author". Maybe he'll research Miss Snark next and she'll find out!!)