The man, the myth, the legend.
A Blathering Fool
I’m going to babble for a bit today in hopes that it might break some of the deadlock I am having with The Bronze Lion, the rewrite of the first Christian Cole book. So if you don’t want to listen to me ramble, may I suggest visiting The Donald Maass Literary Agency and seeing their submissions guidelines, since I’ve seen a lot of people following the link from this site to theirs recently. It’s a good guide, and you could probably use that as a reference when submitting to other agencies. Only a few (a rare few, thankfully) ask for different submission requirements and as the world is going green, so are too are most of the literary agencies. I, for one, welcome our impending Redwood overlords.
On to the babble.
Is this one of those things that you enjoy tormenting me with, Oh Great & Mighty Muse? Is this one of those promises that a teen boy receives from his girlfriend on Prom Night, only to be denied when Daddy taps on the back window with the butt of his shotgun? Is it something I said? Was it something I said? I haven’t mocked you in a great while, not since I compared your mad skillz to that of an Australian striker’s prowess in this World Cup. Okay, so that was last week, but still… that was a great long time ago in my mind.
Why don’t you want me working on The Bronze Lion? I understand your fixation with Wraithkin, but damn it, we need to work together on other projects. We did well when we were writing both Corruptor and Vindicator four years ago. Heck, even that mad rush when we wrote The Green Jewel and The Midnight Crew in six weeks showed that we are great together.
Are you that enamored with the original story of Christian? Do you not like his parents being alive now? I’m sorry, Ganeesh, but the whole orphan boy with special powers is sorta… old. Christian is not a Potter or Fowl, not a Percy Jackson. Christian is a hero because he sees that others will not do the deed. He chooses to do it, albeit reluctantly, but he still makes that choice. He isn’t destined to be anything special, nor is he blessed with magical talents or great strength. He is a normal boy choosing to do something extraordinary. Is that your problem, you peanut-addicted miscreant?
Sorry, sorry… I promised to quit making fun of your peanut fixation.
I understand if you don’t like me moving the setting from the west coast to the east coast, but it makes more sense. In Cali, the amount of mountains a kid can play in are limited and heavily regulated. Too many park rangers, hippy campers and whatnot. In Virginia there is so much more space to use, places that are older than this country and yet haven’t been truly exploited. There is far more possibility with an area that has so much more historical value to the overall plot than Cali has… really.
So then what is it? Can you not see things the way I want them to be? Is it because I didn’t offer the White Chip Macadmia Nut cookie this morning to you? Sorry buster, but that stuff puts the rolls on your hips. And I’m looking at your statue right now, and buddy, you don’t need any more cookies. You need Jenny Craig.
What? I’m not making fun of your peanuts. Heh. Heh heh. Ahem.
So tell me what to do and I’ll try to listen. But understand: you may hold the whip of this relationship, but it’s my brain your flogging. Screw with that too much and you will not like the road we will wander down.