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Friday, February 19, 2010

Always a Bridesmaid: Singing the Finalist Blues

Just call me your maid, your matron, your maybe yes, but then again maybe no. Just call me your my what a good read, definitely worth its weight in taffeta, in tulle, though not quite bridal. Not quite as good as this other one . . . this one over here with more brocade, more bric-a-brac, more moxy. My, my that's what's missing: moxy! mitzy! glitzy! More with the rondeau, less with the run-around Sue. Your manuscript needs a tiara. Your manuscript needs more tamari. Your manuscript should be wearing a sari. No, no! Now you've made it too salty (bring me, please, a cool glass of water, a cruel gaff of saunter). The middle poem needs a saltapus. The first poem needs more rumpus. Get your sections in line, sexy. Get out your suctions, lazy. Get to the back of the line, you crazy almost-bride.

5 comments:

Joannie said...

Ah, having been neither a bridesmaid nor a finalist, I think the latter sounds--okay, not great, but certainly a step in the right direction.

Sandy Longhorn said...

Awesome post; one I can definitely relate to!

Salmon Bear said...

Ha! You said it better than I did. Keep that one, and put it in your next ms.

Time to submit, again. I'm afraid to admit how many times I've sent this one out! I'm so ready to kick it out the door.

Martha Silano said...

Joanie: in this business you can go from 0 to 120 in 30 seconds; keep sending. Ditto to you Salmon Bear! Yes, i will tidy up my post and definitely put it in my next book . . . due out in 2050. xo m

Jan Priddy, Oregon said...

Ah, yes, for a while post-MFA... a better class of rejections.