Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Achieving YOUR Black Belt

“Tae Kwon Do strives to develop the positive aspects of an individual's personality: Respect, Courtesy, Goodness, Trustworthiness, Loyalty, Humility, Courage, Patience, Integrity, Perseverance, Self-control, an Indomitable Spirit and a sense of responsibility to help and respect all forms of life.”*


This past weekend, my children had their promotion test. I’d never attended one of the formal tests before, and was impressed with their organization. Two instructors told the children what to do while four judges, armed with clipboards, watched and periodically gave out advice. (My daughter needed reminding to kick higher.)

The staff was encouraging while the students wore faces of concentration as they went through their forms, sparred, and broke boards. When it was over, they took a break. Then it was time for two students, who are middle-school-age, to test for their black belts. Side-by-side, they went through much more elaborate forms, kicks against paddles, sparring, and then had to kick through FIVE BOARDS at the same time.

One student was more confident and a little better than the other through the first three parts. But when it came to the boards, he tried over and over. The audience collectively held their breath, knowing his foot probably throbbed, and wondering if he’d be allowed to try again or would have to wait until a different day. Finally, he broke through the boards.

But it wasn’t over. The pizza and doughnuts had to wait until the two students told us why they took Taekwondo and what they’d gotten from practicing to take the black belt test.


The first student to speak was the one who had excelled at the boards. He said something like this:

“When I started taking Taekwondo, I didn’t know my left from my right. It took a long time, but after awhile I got more coordinated. And I became more confident. I worked all summer to take my black belt. I practiced an-hour-and-a-half everyday to prepare for today’s tests.

“But getting a black belt is only half the journey. I still have so much to learn.”


The second student said something like this:

“When I was younger, I was sick all the time. My parents decided I should take Taekwondo to make me stronger and healthier. I’ve been to three martial arts places. The first couple of years, I didn’t try very hard. But when I came here, the students and instructors took it seriously and cared. So I began to care.

“I spent the whole summer practicing. At first, I was annoyed I lost my summer because I was here all the time. But coming here today, I felt confident because of all the work I’d done.”


Not only were these impressive speeches to hear from young, teenage boys, but also I learned from them. Everything that matters to us is hard work, isn’t it?

Training for a black belt test I compare to my years in college and graduate school, and the state tests I’ve taken in order to become certified to teach. In many ways, I gave up my 20s to be a student. But it was only half the journey. I’ll have my own classroom, and the learning and studying will start again. It will take years to be a master teacher, and if I want to keep my title, I’ll keep learning.

Training for a black belt is also like becoming a writer. It takes years to hone our craft. And the more we write, the better we get. Obtaining the black belt can be like landing an agent or a publishing contract. But it’s only part of our writing journey. We have edits to do, a book to promote, unkind reviews to endure, and more books to write.

Those students at their young age have logged hundreds of hours practicing. Studying. They’ve been tired and sore. They’ve given up time with friends and time to goof off. I’m sure they’ve tested and failed. And they’ve retested. These students have seen some of their friends move on past them in belt ranks. They’ve been frustrated. Even jealous. But they've kept at it. Taking three or five classes a week and practicing at home. And they’ll do it all over again for each higher-ranking black belt.

For all of us students, teachers, writers, and everyone else, who is working hard to reach a goal that is important to them, keep at it. Work hard. There will be setbacks and successes, trials and triumphs.

Malcolm Gladwell says you need to log in 10,000 hours to become a master. Keep mastering!


“This takes a great deal of hard training and many do not reach far enough to achieve perfection in all of these aspects. However, it is the physical, mental, and spiritual effort which the individual puts forth that develops the positive attributes and image of both the individual and how he or she perceives others.”

* - Grand Master James S. Benko, Ph.D. http://www.itatkd.com/tkdphil.html


Monday, September 20, 2010

Collisions and Comments and Contests

“Lenny is a writer. Lenny makes me smile. I know when I see his name in my comment sectionI’m going to have one of those feel good moments. I know when I see his name on your blog you’re going to have one of those moments too.”

- Sharon Mayhew


I have posts burning a hole in my blog folder.

But they must wait.

Instead, I give you:


Five links:


1 chance to vote (for me, maybe)

1 chance to cheer up a child

3 chances to win



Remember my post Camped and Confused? I mentioned it was going to be a YA Death Flash contest? Please go and vote for your favorite entry. And if my entry isn't your favorite, I wouldn’t be upset. No pressure.

http://yaflashdeathmatch.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-go-time.html



See that oath above you and on my sidebar? That’s from Lenny, who is about to turn 11. He’s been sick. Please go to his blog and leave a comment. Become a follower too! He’d appreciate it.

http://lennys-world.blogspot.com/2010/09/yikes-im-sick.html


And TODAY is the last night to enter C.A. Marshall’s free edit on your ENTIRE manuscript contest. Enter to win by midnight:

http://www.camarshall.com/2010/09/freelance-editor-ca-marshalls-free-edit.html


If you’re looking for a critique or three-month mentorship, check out this contest by Angela Ackerman. It ends 09/29, so there’s still time:

http://thebookshelfmuse.blogspot.com/2010/09/1000-followers-contest-mentorship.html


Please check out Write On Con Write On Con . They have a contest giving out mega-cool swag. And it’s to raise money so they can keep doing what they do – providing free conference opportunities to writers. You don’t have to donate to enter, but you get many more chances if you do. Contest ends 09/26 EST.

http://writeoncon.com/2010/09/giveaway-recap-day-two/


Thinking of doing any of the above?

Any blog you’d like to recommend?


Thursday, September 16, 2010

The Critique Partner(s) of Your Dreams

How do we know he’s (the manuscript is) the one?


Writing is a lonely endeavor. We sit in front of our computer screen, churning out a rough draft over many weeks, months, or even years. When we type “The End”, we grin with the realization this manuscript is the most awesome piece of literature that’s ever been written. Move over Harper Lee.

Then we listen the sage advice to stick the manuscript in a drawer for at least three weeks. We know it’s easier to kill (delete) distant cousins (old words) than it is to kill (delete) our children (new words). So we bring up our Word Document and begin reading the carnage, and realize, This isn’t as awesome as I thought. It’s really rough. Of course it is – it’s a ROUGH DRAFT. Our first instinct may be to chuck the computer against the wall, run into our bedroom closet, and sob while in a fetal position. But berating ourselves won’t make our manuscript better.


What will make our relationship (with our manuscript) better?


Writers have different methods. Some start by fixing all the spelling and grammar errors before tackling the larger issues. Others go through it and jot notes about all the things that aren’t working, ponder the notes, and return to the manuscript for triage. Still others print the whole document in miniature, highlight the problems, and overhaul the manuscript. Writers like me just read and edit it over and over and over and over until it’s better. Now we’re certain THIS time the manuscript is the most awesome piece of literature that’s ever been written. Move over J.K. Rowling.


Now what?


There are the writers who query at this stage. A few are successful, landing that dream agent in two seconds. Most are not.


Why?


Because we need other eyes on our manuscript. We have our strengths and weaknesses, so we need other people to tell us what’s good and what’s not working. Anyone can read our manuscript: our mother, the letter carrier, the dog, a student, our ten-year-old son, the local librarian. While some use family and friends, I recommend using other writers.


Where do we find our soul mates (other writers)?


I write children’s books. I’ve used the SCBWI board to find a manuscript exchange partner. NESCWBI (the New England chapter) also has a critique group finder. Mary Kole, an agent at the Andrea Brown Literary Agency, Inc. has written posts to help writers find each other to set up manuscript exchanges. Conferences are also a good resource because most people live in the same area and we can see if we hit it off in person. If we have a blog, we can write a post we’re looking for a critique partner. If another blogger mentions s/he needs feedback on a manuscript, we can volunteer to provide that feedback.


How do we know we’ve found the right person?


We find the special writer online or at a conference. We hit it off. We agree to send the query and the first chapter. This is like preparing for a first date as we wait to hear back on pins and needles. When we receive that person’s query and first chapter, do we like what we read? If we don’t, how do we let the person down easy?


“It’s not you, it’s me. I’m swamped right now, so this may not be the best time for me to exchange.”

Or we can be one of those people and not respond back. (Don’t be one of those people.)

And if the other writer is unenthusiastic about our writing, we try not to take it personally.


If we do like the other writer’s work and they like ours, congratulations! But when it comes to critique, being exclusive may not be the best relationship for us. We need more than one reader because we need more than one person’s perspective on our writing. One option is to repeat the process and find one or two other writers to read our work.


Do we like online dating or prefer to meet face-to-face?


Local writers may come together as a critique group in either the virtual or real world. We may have to try these different scenarios to see which one makes us the most comfortable. If we find people who are too far to meet in person, we have to decide if we can live with a long-distance relationship.


Can we date only one person at a time or do we like to play the field?


Only we can figure out what will work best for us. There are many things to consider no matter which one we choose. Do we exchange frequently enough? Does the feedback provide constructive criticism or is it too positive or too negative? Remember, we’re doing this to become a better writer, not to be ripped to shreds. And we shouldn’t rip anyone else to shreds either. Everyone has the potential to improve. Everyone. It’s not our job to crush dreams. We’re not qualified.


What if our first date didn’t go as well as we’d hoped?


Maybe the feedback is too negative. Maybe we don’t respect everyone’s opinion. Maybe our gut is telling us we’re being steered in the wrong direction. My advice is to separate our ego from our instinct. If everyone is telling us something is wrong, it probably is. If we’re getting conflicting advice, then it’s up to us to decide. Conventional wisdom states to sit on the feedback for three days, so we’ll be less defensive and more receptive to the critique.


What if we date a few times and it’s not working?


Then it’s time to move on. If the chemistry isn’t there, we shouldn’t prolong the agony. There are plenty of writers out there. Somewhere out there are the perfect critique partners for us. Good luck finding the critique partner(s) of your dreams!


Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Camped and Confused


“Camping: nature’s way of promoting the motel industry.”

- Dave Barry


This post is actually an entry for a “Camping Trip Gone Wrong” Story Contest YA Flash Death Match , which ends 09/19. If can think of a camping horror story for YA readers, enter. The stories will post on the blog from 09/22-09/26, and you can vote for your favorite entry.


Here’s my entry (based on a true story, but adapted for YA. The name of the boyfriend has been changed to protect the camp-happy):


I like the outdoors. Really. I’ll hike if it’s not too long or treacherous. Or hot or rocky. I’ve even mountain biked on some twisty trails. But I’ve never understood why on earth anyone wanted to waste time camping.

My boyfriend, Sid had never camped either. Well, he went to sleep-away camp as a kid, but that’s not the same… apparently. He decided we should go camping, so he borrowed a tent and two sleeping bags. It shows how much I liked Sid that I actually agreed to go.

“Let’s really rough it,” he said.

“Not having a hot shower or flushing toilet is roughing it. You’ll be sorry when you see my hair without a flat iron to tame it.”

That’s not what I meant. No cell phones. No iPods.”

“Fine. I can live for a day without them,” I lied.

Sid chose Assateague Island in Maryland because it had wild ponies. I thought, sure, why not?

By the time we reached the island and chose a spot with other campers on the beach, it was dinnertime. After struggling with/setting up our tent, we began eating our picnic dinner. The other campers’ setups should’ve been our first clue of what was to come. Most of them were protected by large screen canopies. For a few minutes, Sid and I ate and talked. Then the sun sank a little lower in the sky, and the mosquitoes attacked. I had brought a natural bug repellent, but I might as well have smeared barbecue sauce all over my body.

He and I threw what was left of our food in a bag without bothering to close it securely, and then we dove into our tent, zipping it shut as quickly as we could. The next few minutes were spent whacking the mosquitoes that had invaded our tent.

It was early. We had nothing to do. I was itchy. And I was in a BAD MOOD. Not very romantic. We had our first huge fight. I don’t even remember over what – well probably over Sid dragging me camping, which was the dumbest idea. Ever. I blamed him for not bringing bug spray. He ridiculed me for making a big deal over (as he put it) a few mosquitoes. I ended the argument with, “I bet you wish you had a cell phone or iPod now.” With nothing else to do, I huffed as I smacked my pillow into a “comfortable” position to go to sleep.

Have you ever tried to sleep on sand? Not a nap while baking in the sun, but overnight? It’s hard and lumpy. It took hours to fall asleep because I was hungry, itchy, stuck on sand, with sand stuck on me, and my large number of mosquito bites had given me a fever. Awesome.

At some point, I drifted off to sleep. That’s when I heard them. First their clop, clopping on the ground. Then their teeth ripping our bags of unsecured food. And then their pupupupup sounds like when you blow air through closed lips. The ponies had surrounded our tent. I don’t know how big they were, but from my vulnerable position, I was pretty sure they could trample us if they wanted to. Did they want to? “How wild are these wild ponies, anyway?” I whispered.

I scooted closer to Sid. He put his arm around me and I nestled in his chest. I guess we were making up. I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, even when the ponies finally devoured our food and left the campsite.

The next morning, we assessed the carnage - our bags of food had been ripped to shreds. Sid packed up the tent. Before we left, we walked down to the beach. In the first light of morning running at the shoreline were several ponies, free and wild.

“They’re beautiful,” I gasped.

“Not scary now,” he added.

I noticed their large size, but didn’t say anything. These were not the cute little ponies I’d ridden on at the fair as a kid. No wonder I had feared for my life when they surrounded our tent.

After that horrendous experience, on the way home, Sid and I agreed not to camp with one another EVER AGAIN.


*** FYI ***

If you write YA and took advantage of the FREE Write On Con conference, now is your chance to say "Thank you," and win BOOKS! Enter Today!

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Dancing (Dis)Abilitites

“I’m just a horrible dancer. Terrible. In fact, I’m so gad I even have a rule against it. No dancing unless I’m alone in my room or it’s pitch-black dark.”

- Catherine in Rules by Cynthia Lord.


I don’t know how to dance.

Really.

When I was in kindergarten, my best friend took ballet, so I asked if I could take ballet lessons too. My mother said it was too far to walk. We lived in New York City then. She only went out when she had to. It was hard for her to make room for other activities around “Ryan’s Hope”, “All My Children”, “One Life to Live”, “General Hospital”, and “The Edge of Night”. Besides, a nap followed.

When I turned nine, we moved to the suburbs. I asked again for dance lessons a couple of times, but my mother didn’t drive and my father came home too late after commuting in from Manhattan. By the time my sister, who is six years younger, wanted to dance, my mother knew how to drive and my father’s schedule was more flexible. On the upside, I was allowed to play soccer, which is pretty much mandatory on Long Island.

When I was in high school, for one quarter I took Dance as a gym elective. I’d been to a couple of dances in school and didn’t know what I was doing, more shuffling than dancing. Would this class help? Apparently not. Our teacher was in charge of the Tigerettes, who performed at every ball game. They were good. Most in my motley crew of beginning dancers were not.

I recall the teacher’s frosted hair and painted claw fingernails, frustration flooding her face as she called out dance moves in her thick Long Island accent, “Now the Madonna!”


Fumbling through Whitney Houston’s “How Do I Know?” spoke volumes.


At dances and weddings, I observed other people, trying to imitate their movements. I got better. But I never felt competent. I felt miles away from those who had flair, like my sister. I still felt self-conscious.

(This is why I write for children and teens. Not only do I recall the awkwardness and the angst, I still live it.)

My husband, who never took formal lessons either once quipped I dance like Elaine in “Seinfeld”. Harsh. That comment set my confidence level back YEARS.



I swear; I’m not that bad. But that is how my hair used to look.


Over the years, I’ve tried not to care. I’ve tried to just enjoy myself. A drink (or two) helps me ignore everyone else. I still peek at the moves of better dancers.


My daughter takes ballet lessons. She’s doing so well that she’s in a class with mostly older girls. My son took ballroom dancing in fifth-grade, so he knows seven different dances. They’ve had opportunities I was denied. My children aren’t self-conscious when they’re on a dance floor, and I hope it stays that way.


My daughter at her recital.


My son and his partner at ballroom dancing.


This spring at my husband’s cousin’s wedding, all four of us danced and had a wonderful time. This summer at my cousin’s wedding, all four of us danced again. I watched my sister dance, and she really knew what she’s doing, though she made light of it when the spotlight was on her instead of basking in the moment. But each year I get older; I care less about comparing myself to others and less about my abilities. Who’s wasting their time watching me anyway? I’m not on “Dancing with the Stars” – I’m supposed to be having fun. (And burning off calories from all the food I just devoured.)


My husband, daughter, and I at the wedding, not dancing.


“Dancing like

nobody can see,

finally.”

- Sophia Bush in More Six-Word Memoirs



What has made you self-conscious?

Were you able to overcome it?

If so, how?



About my daughter and dance:

http://theresamilstein.blogspot.com/2010/03/dancing-queen.html


About my son and ballroom dancing:

http://theresamilstein.blogspot.com/2010/05/mad-hot-butterflies.html


Friday, September 10, 2010

Promises and Splashes

“A lot of good arguments are spoiled by some fool who knows what he is talking about.”

- Miguel de Unamuno


I was spoiled.

Spoiled.

I’d forgotten the exact feeling of being a daily sub. The new system is, by far, more civilized. Since the phone won’t ring until after 6:30 am, I can sleep in. Because the system is online, most times I’ll have my jobs the day before. I can be requested. The sub life is good.

As good as it gets.

Even though it won’t ring, I dream of phones ringing and sub calls. I take my shower, wondering if I’ll have to race out, naked and wet to answer the call. As I blow dry my hair, I glance at the phone, waiting for it to light up. After my shower, I take the phone into the kitchen to prepare my children’s breakfasts and lunch.

I miss summer.

The chances of me working this week were slim. School began Tuesday and Thursday we had off for Rosh Hashana. How many teachers can’t manage to work the first three days?

So I wait.


Last year, I’d promised myself I’d write about EVERY sub job. Near the end of the year, I skipped four jobs. To give you a glimpse back into my sub life, I've decided to share those four gigs:


In May, I worked at the Spanish school for first-grade. My experience in kindergarten had been less than stellar, so I took the job with trepidation. But I figured at least I’d be working with someone else. How bad could it be? Foreboding….

Before the students came in, the teacher asked about ME. And she asked what I wanted to be called. When the students came in, she introduced me to each one. When we sat at the rug, she gave me time to share. Sniff.

This teacher was GOOD. Those kids listened to her, wanted to please her, behaved for her. And I could see why. She didn’t yell or talk down to them. She had expectations that she repeated throughout the day. And she had hand signals to remind kids when they were doing the wrong thing, which limited interruptions. There was even a hand signal for children to use when they needed to use the bathroom to keep the teacher from having to stop what she was doing. Easy peasy.

A little later, the teacher mentioned she had afternoon interviews of prospective teachers, so I’d only have to handle snack and a read aloud with the students before clean up and dismissal. At lunchtime she received a call that she had to go to the first interview NOW, earlier than planned. I could see this job was going from easy to difficult.

In the end, the students were pretty good, but not the angels they were for her. Since my disposition isn’t all sunshine and lollipops, I’m really working my heart out when I work with little children.

One child was obsessed with astronauts. As a result, the teacher was doing an extensive space unit. My read aloud was a book about… you guessed it… space. The space-happy kid scooted extra close while I read and showed the pictures.


At one point he raised his hand. When I called on him, he said, “Astronauts are in space for 90 years.”

“It’s not 90 years, honey. If it were, you’d leave as a baby, you’d come back as an old man.”

“It’s 90 years,” he stated emphatically. “My parents told me.”

“Maybe you misheard them.”

“No.”

I decided to be diplomatic. “Let’s agree to disagree.”

“Nope. 90 years.”


The afternoon dragged on from there.


Several days before school ended, I had a job in a third-grade classroom at the Inclusion School. That’s always a treat because the room normally has three teachers. It’s funny because I’ve worked in this room before, and one teacher ignores me. I mean like I’m not there. No hello, nod, or even eye contact. Rude.

But the class wound up doing morning work, then Math, and then spent the rest of the day watching Mary Poppins. I was actually able to take out my laptop. Dream job.


Two days before school ended, I subbed at the school that loves assemblies for gym again. But instead of subbing for the woman and working with my former coworker, I subbed for my coworker and worked with the woman. She spent the day urging me to become a gym teacher so I wouldn’t have to take work home. I politely smiled and nodded, but inside I was thinking:


Look at me. I am about as unsporty as you get. Is unsporty even a word? It should be. I did horribly in gym, so much so I had to take extra gym to graduated high school. Would I have to do fitness-type things to become certified? Gym in a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.


I also taught a first-grade class and forgot it was a half day at my kids' school because of eighth-grade graduation and my children had to walk from the bus to the school to pick up the key and I was lucky I wound up working two blocks from home and I turned a hangman game into a lesson about respect while the class was late to be picked up. Exhale.


Now I’ve kept my promise, and written about EVERY SINGLE sub job from last year.


Whew.


AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:


TALLI ROLAND will have her book The Hating Game available as an ebook on December 1st on AMAZON .

This is before the launch of the hardcopy in 2011. Here’s a quote from her post:

“Here's where you come in. It's amazing how few copies it takes to rocket your sales rank on Amazon. Wouldn't it be incredible if people bought copies of The Hating Game ebook -- all on Dec 1 --- and brought it up the charts? If for one brief moment in time (or maybe more), The Hating Game was an Amazon Kindle bestseller?”

Please join Talli’s BlogSplash!


Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Query Quandary

“I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart.”

- Vincent van Gogh


Why are queries so difficult to write?

How do I capture the essence of my story? The plot? The voice? Succinctly?

How do design my query to encourage an agent to read my manuscript?

When do I know it’s the query or the manuscript that isn’t working?


As you can infer, my query has not yet garnered requests for partials or fulls. I have a handful of rejections, and don’t want to receive anymore before I fix the problem.


The problem is my query.

I prefer to write the whole darned manuscript than the query to go with it.

In the past when I’ve received requests for fulls, I’ve always wondered if it was because of or in spite of my query.

This time, I received advice from writing friends. It got better.

I suspected it was still missing something.


Did it rely too much on the teen part? Did it reveal too little about the disappearances plot? Did the voice fail to come through? Was I too vague? Too wordy?


WHAT?


I’ve read the advice blogs:


Chuck Sambuchino:

Guide to Literary Agents


Matthew Rush:

The Quintessential Query Experiment


and:

Query Shark


But they’re examples of other people’s queries. They aren’t telling me exactly how to make my story sing in around 250 words.

At least I have the end part about myself right. It’s all the stuff about the manuscript that’s eluding me.


I sent it out, hoping it was enough.

Apparently NOT.


Then I read this post at Jane Friedman's blog:

There are No Rules (Read the comments section too.)

Problem confirmed.


A couple of weeks ago, a well-respected person in the business asked me about my “writing journey”. He asked if I had any questions.

Did I have the courage to ask him for help? Was I overstepping boundaries? Or would I be wasting a perfect opportunity to fix the blasted thing?


I took a deep breath and hit Send:


“So far, my query has received a handful of rejections. I'm trying to decide if the query is flawed or it's something else. I have the query up on a 2nd blog, if you have to time look at it. If not, it's no problem.”


He did.

Rather quickly. (Hooray!)

I heard back with comments. What was working. What wasn’t. Suggestions.

Sigh of relief.


I hurriedly incorporated his comments. Better.


Afterwards, I sent it to my two writer friends who read the manuscript: Winded Words and Edith's Page. Both have been extraordinarily successful with their queries. I improved it based on their feedback.


If you haven’t seen it, now it looks like this:

http://theresamilstein2.blogspot.com/2010/09/mist-chasers-query-revised.html


Thanks for those of you who gave me feedback on my new and improved query, so I was able to tweak it. Your encouragement kept me from quitting writing and burning all manuscripts. (As if.)


I’ve send out another handful of queries.

Now I wait.

And hope.


On the bright side, I just won a Snarky Rejection Contest on Getting Past the Gatekeeper , earning me a one-page manuscript or query critique. Perfect timing!


Here’s my entry:


Dear Wannabe Author,




I see you spent many hours crafting your manuscript, as evidenced by your query, so kudos to you. There are people who are illiterate, so you’re ahead of the game. Pat yourself on the back, Sport.



Unfortunately, your query is suffering from ___ vagueness ___ too much detail. In addition, it’s obvious your manuscript is ___ plotless ___ full of plot holes ___ cliché ___ pointless ___ meandering ___ nonsensical. Regarding word count, your story is ___ too short ___ too long for the genre. Your manuscript has potential, but ___ I hate your protagonist ____ I loathe your writing style ____ the damn thing is voiceless ___ you don’t have a handle on grammar.



Thanks for considering my agency but unfortunately we ___ have standards ___ don’t represent that genre, which would’ve taken you about five seconds to know if you had bothered to read our website for more than our address. 



Of course, another agent may feel differently.

Good luck finding ___ a home ___ a fireplace ___ a recycling bin for your manuscript.




Sincerely,



Snarky (Note proper spelling.)


Snarky enough for ya?