At last a really, really rich person who is happy about having money. God bless you, Oprah. God bless you. If I ever have a billion dollars I will rest just as easily.
I’m working on an approach for the literary agent the Wife stumbled across. This business about having a contact in common is an unusual situation, as by circumstance I reach out to agents cold and whatever happens, does. Last project, somewhere around fifteen percent of those solicited expressed an interest in the manuscript — a project which was neither developed properly nor ready for representation. I can say that now; I had no business trying to sell that book. As far as I’m concerned, if it stays in the file cabinet in perpetuity the world shall be no poorer.
But this round I have something good enough. Perfect? Hell no. Good enough? Yes. Of the two I spoke with from Team Eagle Eye, neither expressed qualms about showing the first 50 pages in the present condition. And from one of them, this is a real coup, as he loathes formula fiction and mysteries, and puts the anal in analytical. If there’s a glitch, he finds it. Bug tally thus far: 1, and it’s a point so minor I honestly consider it an observation.
In any case, contact by Thursday is the goal…
Ahh, Oprah. I am happy that she is happy. And all is right in the universe, turn, turn, turn.
It should be noted that although I have no money, I am not necessarily bitter.
Maybe a little envious, but that’s all!
To me, money is a number and people who stress over how many zeroes precede the decimal point are people best avoided. Distress and anguish haunt every zip code.
You speaketh the truth. I think my fiancee and I knew we were made for each other when we found out we both work for non-profit organizations. That and our love of trees.
Hey, there can be a good living in non-profits. After all, they have to spend that money on something at the end of the year.