Dear Author by Rosemary Edghill #amwriting #humor

Dear Author

Rosemary Edghill has been a writer since 1976 and an editor for much of that time. The first time she saw a slush pile, she was stunned by the contents. Over the years, that feeling has faded into pained disbelief at Dumb Things Writers Do. Now she shares her pain (and helpful tips for writers) in her infamous “Dear Author” posts.

 

Dear Author:

I know this will come as a shock, but a short story and a novel are two different things. A perfectly salable novel opening will get a short story bounced. Author, honey, you don’t have TIME for all that lovely dilatory scene setting and lapidary description: get the story started!

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Dear Author:

It’s really quaint and adorable of you to consider a woman of forty old, feeble, greying, and withered. It really is. Honest.

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Dear Author:

When I finally see a story with a proper opening sentence, I want to weep with the relief of a child rescued from the dark.

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Dear Author:

Your protagonist is awfully chatty for somebody you actually killed six pages back.

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Submitted for your approval: one desert culture. In a world like, and yet unlike, our own, the desert is populated by a harsh, proud, mysterious people. Their customs and rituals stretch back to the beginning of Time…but not the beginning of civilization. They live in an arid land as harsh, mysterious, and merciless as they, cut off by climate, geography, and their own desire from others. Let me reiterate that the desert is hot, dry, hot and dry, dry, dry and hot, and arid. Also: isolated from outside contact. Got that? A woman from Away comes to this desert. Her past is as mysterious as those of the people she meets. Their ways are strange to her, as is their food. Yet a few things are familiar. Like the homely dish of beans and rice she shares at one meal. BEANS AND RICE???? RICE????? RICE???????????????????????? It was at this point that I emitted a low moan of inchoate despair at the state of modern brain-cells and wrote this. Jiminy Francis Christ on a Robot Dinosaur.

 

 

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author photoRosemary Edghill is the keeper of the Eddystone Light, corny as Kansas in August, normal as blueberry pie, and only a paper moon. She was found floating down the Amazon in a hatbox, and, because criminals are a cowardly and superstitious lot, she became a creature of the night (black, terrible). She began her professional career working as a time-traveling vampire killer and has never looked back. She’s also a New York Times Bestselling Writer and hangs out on Facebook a lot.

 

Learn more about Rosemary at website or discover her books on Amazon.

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