Random Things, Back to Books

So first off, I wanted to say that I got a couple of video game related query letters this week and if I get one a month I’m surprised. Most of them are terrible. Largely because the writers know squat about games. The ones I received last week were terrible. Largely because the writers weren’t very good. Actually, one wasn’t bad but the dialogue and such was clearly meant as this bizarre absurdist thing. If you can successfully imagine the voices of a sketch comedy group voicing every line in the book (Monty Python > Whitest Kids U’ Know > Tim and Eric>>>>>>Upright Citizen’s Brigade) then it just might work. I know from experience that stuff that seems hilarious, and may actually provoke giggle fits if read out loud frequently fall flat when it’s just words on paper, but good luck to that guy. Anyway, hurrah! A higher class of bad game-inspired writing.

Second, it seems that every week now we get e-mails from a foreign literary agency looking for an American co-agent. Mostly they’re from India and China. You guys are probably well aware of my personal and academic interest in Asia, as well as my unfocused MUST CONSUME ALL MEDIA mindset. So when I get e-mails from South Korean agencies looking for an American co-agent for an illustrated hand guide to Greek and Roman mythology the “holy shit, that’s weird and roundabout” center of my brain is stimulated. I don’t think the boss has any interest in co-agenting anything at the moment, but I’m entertained. So keep it coming. Wheeee. On a side note, I love seeing cultural exchange and I’ve seen some pretty interesting pitches this way (good or bad, frequently depending on the author’s-local-agent’s knowledge of English) but at the same time, more foreign books means less space for emerging writers over here. Well, that’s where it’s heading. From my perspective as a consumer, it’s a good thing. From my perspective as a writer wannabe and an aspiring agent, maybe not so good.

Finally, I also wanted to mention a dream I had the other day. It was very, very strange. I’m not really sure what it was supposed to mean or if you’ll be as entertained by it as I was. Truth be told, I’m telling you as much so I won’t forget as anything. In the dream, I was applying for a full time agency assistant job. No surprise there. It fills my waking hours. Why not the sleeping ones? But there was actually a time leap. My first interview when there were two people who ran it out of a house in the suburbs, and then again six months later. Two “BFFs” broke it off because they couldn’t stand working together. So the one that continued the business needed fresh meat. Most of the dream was about the second interview. In the interim, one of the dream agents had moved out. The other had redesigned the place and subletted the basement to this weird group of like, Swiss models or something in order to be able to pay for an assistant. One guy, two women. The interview itself wasn’t solo. There were two other guys- one I know from my publishing program (but not very well) and one from college, who wouldn’t have the slightest interest in that kind of job and who was inexplicably called Harry when his name is actually Joe. I think there was maybe a sub-plot there I never got around to. Anyway, she basically made us compete for the job. In our underwear. Apparently she was a man hater and thought this’d be a good way to keep us in line. Harry-Joe had to ride a Unicycle and juggle. What that has to do with agenting is beyond me. I forget what the second guy had to do but these things made me nervous enough that when I was ordered to give a lecture I wound up squawking in this weird British accent. At which point, the dream agent hussled us downstairs and we all formed a line to eat lunch from this elaborate buffet the Swiss models set up.

Honestly, although I can sorta see how it reflects my impression and fortunes looking for an assistant job, (i.e. the shit one must go through and the inevitable discrimination for being a male in publishing) I also got this weird horror movie vibe off it. That the models weren’t really models but other applicants that she’d conducted experiments on to make them that way. Or something. Who knows. The dream ended at the buffet. It’s a shame because I was pretty amused. Confusing the hell out of me is pretty much the main route to entertainment, y’see. Pondering non-sense is how I know I’m alive.