A few months ago I attended a writer’s conference in Manhattan. At said conference there was a panel, and upon this panel sat an agent who spoke of how he likes to work with authors, how new authors are his particular favorites, how he likes the unique voice.   How he enjoys the personal connection with a writer.  I spoke with him briefly after the panel, he asked me to send him a query letter, I agreed.

This week I received the rejection email from the agent. It began “Dear Mr. Fitzgerald…”

I re-read my query numerous times, thinking I’d made the mistake.  But, no, my name was clearly stated in all of the materials, in the email return address, everywhere.

In addition to getting my name COMPLETELY incorrect, he also misspelled the title of my novel. I guess being an agent means you don’t have to pay attention to the details.

Next!

I uploaded these photos the other day but forgot to link them here.  Old age.

We had excellent conditions for the show this year; after rain on the two previous years that was a welcome change.  Also, instead of having to strain our eyes across Manhattan, this year the fireworks barges were stationed in the Hudson, to mark the 400th anniversary of the discovery of said river.  A great show overall.