Monday, July 11, 2005

A Cry for Help (or: Notes from the Dark Side)

Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you'll welcome, without judgment, a new lost soul, who comes before us here at LitBloggers Anonymous to ask for forgiveness for sins past & future.

Ladies and Gentleman, this individual claims to have been, in a more glorious past, a member of "The Editors' Club"--described (so aptly) as
that group of talent-finders and dream-makers who instinctively know what the fine readers of the world will embrace.
But at a certain point our poor Anonymite lost the way, and began to exhibit all the tell-tale signs... Took to watching television (network television!) till all hours of the night; to selling, without remorse, books received via "bigmouth" mailings to the Strand; to admiring, then acquiring, jewelry and wristwatches and eye-wear of a far more gaudy nature then had ever been the case before; and discovering, over time, that the idea of picking up the lunch tab at Michael's was becoming more and more repugnant. The final straw came when, after screaming mercilessly at a poor overworked editorial assistant (and ENJOYING it), this individual realized that there was no horror in the world so horrible as writing YET ANOTHER PIECE OF CATALOG COPY.
And it was at that moment that another member of that rapscallion breed was born. No, but we must refrain from judgment! Please, all:
Welcome Agent 007!
I have not yet seen the (expired) union card, so I cannot vouch for or verify said (former) membership in the esteemed Editors' Club. There is, however, something about the cadences of Agent 007's inaugural posting that suggests at least a passing familiarity with the secret handshakes and the ol' wink-wink-nudge-nudge-say-no-more! insiderisms known only to We the Gatekeepers of [etc]...

Friends, whether this individual is honorable or not (and if Agent 007 is truly an agent, we can be sure that Honor is more a flag flown than a way of walking), there is no doubt that we must respond to this cry for help. Please, I beg of you: pay a sympathetic visit, and offer a few kind words, and remember:

There, but by the grace of God...


Anonymous said...

Sacrilege, I say! But what of Bond Girl?

BookBabe said...

Hmmmm... call me a cynical bitch but I'm 'fraid I already have to question the credibility of this Agent oo7 (and it is oh oh 7 and not naught naught 7... but why?)cuz no real (former) member of the Editors' Club would attest to knowing "what the fine readers of the world will embrace." Every editor, agent and writer knows, with certainty, that why the world embraces the books it does is, more often than not, more about something akin to pixie dust than any judgement, taste or perspective.

He ain't gonna be no Mighty-Mouse-singing Max... but we are a welcoming bunch...

Little Woman with a Big, Old House said...

Oh, Book Babe is a close reader! But I fear she missed my facetiously haughty tone. (I shall be mindful of that next time.) Believe me, I hear from editors every day about what they are quite confident the public wants to read or not.

Btw, "naught naught 7" was already taken.

BookBabe said...

Hmmm... yes... tonality can be *so* hard to judge in this milieu. Tell you what... I'll be sure to drop copious clues beyond mere context... underscores and italics and parenthetical (winks) and (grins)...if you'll do same? That way, you'll be sure to know when I am yanking it (your leg, that is).

A VOCATION OF UNHAPPINESS [Courtesy Georges Simenon (1903-1985)]

"Writing is considered a profession, and I don't think it is a profession. I think that everyone who does not need to be a writer, who thinks he can do something else, ought to do something else. Writing is not a profession but a vocation of unhappiness. I don't think an artist can ever be happy."

PRACTICAL MARKETING [Courtesy Zornhau, 2005]

"They should put the 1st couple of pages up in subway adverts. Having read them several times, you'd feel compelled to try the book - if it was any good."

PLATE OF SHRIMP [Courtesy Alex Cox’s REPO MAN, circa 1984]

"A lot of people don't realize what's really going on. They view life as a bunch of unconnected incidences and things. They don't realize that there's this like lattice of coincidence that lays on top of everything. I'll give you an example, show you what I mean. Suppose you're thinking about a plate of shrimp. Suddenly somebody will say like "plate" or "shrimp" or "plate of shrimp" out of the blue, no explanation. No point in looking for one either. It's all part of a cosmic unconsciousness."