I promised when I started this blog that I wouldn't whine and complain about the life of an author, as done so well on many other blogs. No angst, teeth-gnashing and writer's block would appear in this space. I did not, however, promise not to mourn the demise of the cold-submit to a publisher. Nowadays, they don't want to see anything that hasn't been submitted through an agent.
Obviously, I need an agent. The trouble is, I don't fit the parameters for the modern novelist.
1. I don't own a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes.
2. I am not employer by a of media firm in the northeast.
3. I'm not twenty or even thirty-something.
4. I have never used drugs, gotten drunk or engaged in recreational sex.
Modesty not having any place in this cut-throat occupation, I present my strengths.
1. I know what a library is. I have been inside numerous libraries and I can even pronounce the word correctly... li-brary, not li-berry.
2. I have published two non-fiction books with a third on the way in October.
3. My vocabulary extends beyond four-letter words.
4. I am a super researcher and I have a great imagination.
If the generation Xers can have their chick-lit, then why not a little gray-lit? I am the perfect author demographic for an aging population. So, call me...we'll talk.