New York, NY, 10011

New York, NY, 10011

In movies, writers always cruise trendy clubs on a Saturday night, dispensing witty conversation and sizzling truth, a girl on each arm.

Me? This Saturday night I’m working out submissions. It’s the routine, the group of three. Go through the guide, read the agency bios, perhaps poke them out online. Date the submission effort (directly in the book – why not?) and paperclip the page to mark it. Now it’s time to start the printing press.

Three agency letters (careful, don’t mix the names). Set them on the floor next to the desk. After each letter, kick out a SASE (or ‘rejection slip pocket’). Of course, the printer always, always balks at printing these, so force the print. Slap on a stamp.

Now, handwrite the address to the large envelopes that will carry my dreams of a sentient crow and his fate in a screaming battle in the middle of a hurricane to the agency.

The chapters and synopsis – not yet. I’ll print them off quickly and effortlessly at work Monday morning. Ink is dearer than blood.

Monday evening, a stop in the post office lobby to print stamps off and push them through the slit. Goodbye! Fare-thee-well!

And then, the wait…