This week I've been searching for editors . . . not in the hide-n-seek sort of way, but via the internet. In particular, I've been trying to locate an editor, any editor, who might take a peek at a book proposal written by two pastors.
Funny thing, how these editors can hide. I've sent emails, made a few phone calls, even threatened bodily harm ("answer your phone or I'm coming down there with two guys named Vinnie and Earl and they'll offer you some persuasion!") . . . still, the editors remain elusive.
But I'm not giving up. Next week, if I don't hear from these people, I'm pulling out the heavy artillery. Some ideas:
I'll find the cell phone numbers and begin to call incessantly until I get an answer.
I will inundate these editors with piles of my college poetry, written in Elizabethan English, and with no attached return postage.
I will threaten to cut off my index fingers (I mean it this time!!!!) if they don't read my manuscript.
Hurry up, Mr. Editor. Lord, I don't want to lose my digits!