The Stew

thestewofstory

I don’t often know what’s going to be cooking in the pot.  While I’m pitching my queries to literary agents, I’m not working on what ‘s finished, written, shaped, reviewed endlessly, edited, honed, polished and  parked in toto on my desktop next to the ditto-ed proposal.

A new and unpublished writer knows almost nothing about the scams, scum, the doggers in the shadows who love little Red Riding Hood, she with the tender parts, and no defenses because she is essentially stupid about the dark forest she’s into. There be wolves in here! But yesterday I was protected by that idiocy. The phone call came before I was hardly awake and/or alert, and immediately I was into the quagmire with an agent from a self publishing organization saying she had the query I sent her. Um, I don’t query such an organization because I only know of one, and that…

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