Let’s get this out-of-the-way. I’m not delusional. I never thought this would be easy, but seriously.
Recently, I stumbled across an agent’s blog. As I read, I found myself linking to various posts, printing a few out to guide rewrites and just generally fan girling all over the place. Fan-girl is a strange state for me. Even if I meet someone whose books I adore, I do not fan girl. It just isn’t me. But maybe that explains it all. I just wasn’t in my right mind.
Clearly, I had found the agent for me. It couldn’t have been more obvious.
Fortunately, the voice of reason managed to get a word in edge-wise. “Request some of her books. Be sure.”
Pfft. Sure, schmure. We’re soul mates I tell you.
But the voice of reason one and I requested four of her books. I read book one and thought . . . I don’t get it. I read book two and thought . . . cute. Cute is a huge warning sign for me. I’m not a cute kind of person. Unless you count calavera as cute. And not Hello Kitty. Real south of the border calavera. If you think they’re cute, then I’m adorable. But I soldiered on. Last night I read book four. The book Kirkus called hilarious. I nearly cried. No, I wasn’t laughing that hard. It just wasn’t my somewhat off beat, gross, 12-year-old boy type of humor.
I’ve met this agent. We laugh at many of the same things and get along well. I suspect we’d make descent friends. But we don’t like the same books. She likes cute. I like calavera, but at least I figured it out for myself.