Dear Miss Snark:
I would like to submit my novel, Wingman for Hire, to the Third Semi Regular Crapometer Contest. It is an adult fiction manuscript (this is like saying Miss Snark is bipedal. It's accurate but it doesn't tell me much I really need to know...like her affinity for poodles and gin...be more specific. Is it romance? science fiction? literary fiction? true crime?) , approximately 75,000 words in length.
I have enclosed the first page as per the Third Semi Regular Crapometer submission guidelines. Perhaps you will let me know if you would like to see the entire manuscript. I can be contacted by this email address.
Thank you, Miss Snark, for your time.
Kacey Black glanced up from the familiar movement of the front door swinging wide open. (She's swinging on a door, hot diggety dog). Grinning, she watched as Jillian Kelley bounded past and into the dimly lit bar. She was breathing heavily as if she’d sprinted across the city. (similies are so we can see things in a fresh way or gain insight into something. This just says the same thing twice) Her eyes swept the half-deserted bar, no doubt, scanning for the familiar sight of her shabby (shabbily)-dressed brunette friend. Being in love with fashion and all it entailed, frustrated Jillian that her friend, Kacey was the complete opposite. More over, it infuriated her that someone so cute wouldn’t want to play up her looks with some color other than black.
I'd stop reading here.
Kacey scribbled something unimportant onto the half-filled page of the composition book before she returned her attention back to the latest visitor, not attempting to signal her friend(ya just in case we forgot they were friends cause mentioned it 35 words back..) that she was there.
Jillian made her way along the bar but stumbled upon her three-inch heels, reaching down to dislodge something stuck to the bottom of the spike. This abrupt movement caused her hair to fall forward, entangling some of the blonde strands within the jewel-encrusted bobble earrings. She spent several more minutes untangling them and checking her appearance before she returned to her present task of finding Kacey. Poor Jillian, Kacey thought, for as well dressed as she looked, it seemed to be too much work just to keep looking like a fashion ad.
“Hey there sugar, looking for me?” a gruff voice startled Jillian from behind.
“Oh--uh...I’m looking for my friend,” she bumped into the next chair, which lucky for her was empty.
Fumbling with her purse, Jillian nervously backed away and glanced about once more, making a half turn to leave when she at last spotted her friend, hunched over the table of a corner booth. She darted past a poorly lit pool table, bumping into one of the long-bearded players. Stumbling through an awkward apology, she finally made it past to stand next to Kacey’s private booth.
“What are you doing?” she breathed.
Kacey glanced up with a grin. “Nice to see you too, Jillian.”
Kacey surveyed her friend with concern. Jillian had a look about her face as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or to yell. She looked mad-crazy, somewhat like when someone is on the verge of crossing the line of sanity.
Jillian had no idea Kacey thought such things of her character. Jillian didn’t care so long as the compliments toward her new outfits, car and makeup remained a steady flow. Nothing else mattered.
“Well, are you going to tell me what you are doing?” she asked a second time.
“Hibernating,” Kacey exhaled a steady stream of bluish-grey smoke.
“What?” she gasped.
“It’s not spring yet, too cold to go down to the ocean front,” she sipped on the cherry colored drink.
“Well duh, the bands won’t show up for another three months,” Jillian flipped her hair back over her shoulder.
“And with them--tourists,” Kacey frowned.
“Why...are...you...here?” Jillian disregarded her comment.
“I told you, I’m hibernating.”
“Did you forget about tonight...you forgot about tonight, didn’t you?”
“No, every Wednesday night I come here to hibernate. No, Jillian, how is that possible I could forget about tonight?”
“But you’re here, not there,” Jillian pointed in a hypothetical direction.
“Sunnys,” Jillian waved her hands.
Kacey took a moment to absorb their conversation. She knew that Jillian wanted her to leave Big Wednesday’s but why on the one night a week that Kacey had all to herself.
“Well...why here?” Jillian pressed.
Nothing new or fresh or enticing means it's a pass.