Either Denise Marcil is exceedingly fast when she reads queries, or she just opens the envelopes, extracts the SASE and shoots off a rejection in one swift motion. I sent her a query exactly ten days ago and she got back to me already.
Now, I put the letter in the box on Monday, so it was not picked up by the postman until that night. From there, the plea for attention would have gone to the big clearing house in some other suburb, so there it would sit until some time Tuesday. Another day to get to NYC, and it's probably Thursday at least before it arrives in her office. Reverse the process for my rejection, and there's no time to spare in the middle.
The editors over in West Lafayette, Indiana, took a couple of months to reject my short fiction, but they did not ask for something else. So what? I'm going to send them something else anyway. Going under the assumption that the piece I submitted was not humorous enough, I've got another couple of stories that might suit.
The literary journals have a certain appeal, now that I have about fifteen queries outstanding. I don't want to send the same letter to more agents until I get a feel for how effective the query is, but I've got this terrible itch to send out something. The short story submission provides a tremendous relief, what with a variety of stories available and multiple journals to submit to, and most take simultaneous submissions as well.
What better way to spend the weekend than firing up the printer and slapping stamps on big Tyvec envelopes? Come to think of it....ah, it's all an addiction to the rush, the thrill of the crap shoot. But it is cheaper than playing the slot machines.
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