Strange but true. The old bottle of wine we opened last weekend that proved such a vinegary disappointment has become quite potable. We decided to try it again last night. Guess it had to breathe for 6 days. I don't proclaim it a great wine, but certainly a very good wine, too good to beome coq au vin or boeuf bourgignon. So a leopard can change its spots.
Today I heard from the publisher that I had kept as an ace up my sleeve, and for whom I concocted a special letter and a special synopsis. All to no avail! Form letter came back. I am crushed, but there is yet another publisher that I will approach. Don't think it's their kind of thing, but what the hell? Doesn't seem to be anybody's kind of thing. It's the Last of the Cold War Capers: cool characters, bad guys and gals, romantic suspense, sailing across the Baltic in the fog, fun, games, a crazy party, nude beaches, midsummer madness. What more could a publisher want? Damned if I know. So guess what? Time once again to Suck It Up. I'll drown my sorrows in the risen from the dead wine.
We are going to West Point to the Rice-Army game tomorrow. Anything to get my mind off this damn novel that wants to badly to find a publisher.
In deep despair,