My stint at two literary agencies when I was an oh so young writer had an interesting effect on me. Being that close to book deals as they transpired, watching important authors bring in their new work, making an editorial suggestion that was then - wow! - taken to heart by both agent and author, was terribly exciting. However - there was the slush pile to contend with. At first, this seemed a glorious endeavor...I could read new work and discover a talented writer! I spent my first few months writing lengthy notes on how manuscripts could be improved, what worked & what didn't. Strangely, I felt sure my agent-mentor was reading them all and taking note. Filing my insights away for the moment when the manuscript would be sold and needed little tweaks of improvement. Hah! That the young are called naive is so apt when I think of moments like these.
As has been well-documented by many agents, the slush pile so rarely yields anything good. In fact, it yields a particular brand of bad writing and just plain weirdo writers that I started to keep a journal of the particularly nutty stuff. Why? Because if they couldn't write well, I could at least document their nutty, way too personal query letters, huge head shots, weird crafts inserted into the envelope as some sort of peace offering and so on, and possibly write about them some day.
It was a pleasure then, to see Jean Hannah Edelstein at The Guardian book blog talking about her gems from the slush pile. Here are two of the truly funny:
""I won an award in my reception class for writing, and ever since then I have known that it is my destiny to be a writer. I enclose the first 600 pages of my fantasy space opera."
"We are a normal Leicestershire couple, until the lights go down. This is the true story of our erotic journey, illustrated with woodcuts."
You laugh, but this kind of stuff was submitted on an alarmingly regular basis. It borders on the fantastic, the camp. The woodcuts! Oh, I remember them well. Jean - you have made my day.
