Best time to submit

August for anyone is the arts is a busy month, but for those of us in Scotland it’s bedlam. Book Festival, International Festival, Film Festival, and, of course The Fringe and all the Fringe related activities, including (but not limited to) the Whiskey Fringe. Yeah, you heard me right. The Whiskey Fringe. And yes, I like Whiskey now. It’s taken a while, but I’m all over that brown alcohol. Wait. That makes me sound like an alchy. Which I certainly am not. Anyway, rambling…

Foreign Climes in the Slush Pile

I spent the rest of the day today trying to think of a way to make money for the Agency – fast. But other than winning the lottery, I haven’t been able to think of anything.

Loraine sent the nonfiction book about the Highland Gordons to a publisher she spoke with at the Fair who seemed quite keen. So let’s hope for an unprecedented advance on a nonfiction book about the War.

I have a bit of a theory about something I’ve noticed in the slush pile, but I can’t figure out how to transfer it into sales. I’ve noticed a lot of stuff coming through the slush pile about ‘exotic’ lands.

What happens when Paris is gone?

Today has been so draining, and it’s only just now lunch. I left Fife at the house with a spare set of keys. He was going to go for a run, then get a shower and head home. I was hoping he’d be here when I came home for lunch, but no such luck. Although, we’ve planned to see each other later in the week.

Bathtub Blogroll

Back in the old NFTI days, I used to put all kinds of awesome links on the blog in hopes of providing information and instigating discussion. I have had all the intention in the world of doing this for NTFI-The Agency, but I just don’t have the time. Actually, it’s my job at work to look up cool publishing and literature stuff on the internet and report back to others. Unfortunately, the ‘others’ are limited to my co-workers and bosses, and not my bloggy-woggy followers. Also, as I do not blog at work (unlike at MNM where I consistently blogged at work), I don’t have time to make a note of all these cool links on this site. Instead, I’ve been keeping a record of them separately, promising myself that I will ‘one day, when I get a chance, put them up on NFTI for all to see.’

The Day I Learned So Much My Head Hurt

Wow, today was hard and I’m absolutely knackered; I feel like I’ve done ten hours of physical labour.

And who do I have to thank for my shear exhaustion? Loraine. That’s who.

But I wasn’t pruning her hedges or painting fences or any of those things that make someone’s back ache. Today’s labour was all mental, and I couldn’t be more tired.

The Slush Pile Returns

First big news of the day, I asked if I could leave for lunch and Loraine looked at me like I was mad. The answer was, ‘Of course you can leave for lunch. This isn’t a prison.’ Ahhhh, a proper working environment, where have you been all my life?

Three ways in which I destroyed the publishing company I work for

Control my life. Vote on how to tell my flatmate I like him.

Just so you know. Everything is my fault.

The Down Side of the Slush Pile

First the shock. Then the police. Then the clean up. Let me start from the beginning.

HarryPotter and I got to work to find the door off its hinges and some police milling about. Once inside, it looked like a hurricane hit the office: papers everywhere, and filing cabinets and bookshelves over turned. Boobs was talking to a police officer, and she was visibly upset. I’ve never seen her like this, and I never expected that I would. I’d assumed she’s the type of person who could charge into battle (hair and nails perfect) ready to slay whoever steps in her path. But today, I saw her vulnerable side. She had on no make-up and a pink velvet tack suit. A policeman handed her a cuppa, and as she took it I could see her hands shaking. From behind us, her husband came rushing through the door. He went straight to her, enveloped her in a hug, and asked if she ‘wanted to go home’.

Publishing Karma

Publishing karma is a bitch. Yesterday, I sent out some cold call emails to publisher and agents I don’t know regarding jobs, and I’ve already started getting rejections. I should have never lied this morning. It’s most certainly going to come back and bite me in the arse.

Publishing Hell

Despite making a conscious decision to take responsibility for my actions, take my work seriously, and act in a professional manner, I royally cocked up last weekend’s trip to the Pitlochry literature Festival. Problematically, I didn’t realise what I fuck up I was until someone (Boobs) nearly pointed it out in today’s Wednesday morning meeting. However, as being a responsible adult isn’t working for me, I quickly switched to lying snivelling childish coward, which seems to be working quite well.