Wowzas. I’ve been MIA this month. I’d like to say it’s because I’ve been super productive, but that would be a lie. I’ve been super distracted with small bursts of productivity, all of which surround the new book I’m writing with C.C. Edwards, my brother. The problem lies in the content. Every time I go to edit, I find myself reading, laughing, and wondering what the hell is wrong with us instead of finishing the damn book. Let’s blame C.C. for that, shall we?
It’s official. I have no idea what I’m doing. In life. In parenting. In cooking (shut it, Mom). Now we can add all the stuff that falls under the writing umbrella that isn’t the actual writing of the story–not that I’m great at that, either. I’m talking marketing, social media-ing (is that a word? can I be the one who coined it?), designing book covers, querying, etc. Who has time to do all this shit? Not this girl, and I don’t even have a real job!
My brother and I are wrapping up a nonfiction humor book. We decided to throw a query letter out there. We will likely self-publish, but we wanted to try our hand at being “legit” in the publishing world. Bro left it up to me to write the letter. Big mistake. Huge. Below is how it started:
I Googled and looked at dozens of query letters. They were all so freaking formal and boring. Do publishers like that? Where’s the emotion? The I-gotta-know-more-about-this-author feeling? I know I don’t have that down, but I’m trying.
I attempted writing what the Internet showed me was appropriate. I tried it again. I couldn’t stand it. I’m not good at that sort of thing. So, I decided to write the letter in the same tone as our book. A little rude and a little funny. Unfortunately, I may have pissed off Mr. Man or offended him. Oops. I also may have referenced taking a dump. And by “may have” I mean I totally did. It wasn’t until after I sent the letter I thought, Hmmm, perhaps he won’t appreciate the visual of sitting on the toilet?
Surely, I’m not the first? Oh, I am? I kind of like that. I’m also horrified. I guess I’ll figure out my feelings if Mr. Man contacts me. Either way, it’s kind of funny. Maybe. Dammit. I need validation, Universe.
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