Everyone in publishing knows about the infamous slush pile–the mountainous pile of queries, proposals, and interest letters that flood the inbox (both postal and emails) each day.
When I was an intern at a magazine more than a decade ago, I knew the editor who handled the slush pile.
I watched as day after day, sometimes week after week, the incoming packages and letters stacked up. Some showed uniqueness in their packaging–colorful paper, glitter, and shiny silver confetti. The editor had a “special” file for those entries which doubled as a recycle bin. Others showed uniqueness in their approach. Thirty-page handwritten submissions in barely readable script. Head shots of the wanna-be writer. (As if that was going to help!). And even the occasional keychain or trinket which also found its place in a “special” file which doubled as a trash can.
What I remember most about the slush pile is how the editor put off going near the mound. She’d wait until the end of the week, then the end of the next week, and the next. As time went by, the pile filled up the bottom drawer of a file cabinet, then built a secondary home nearby until its height reached a toppling point at which point a tertiary home would start to build up, until the editor could no longer pull a 360 in her swivel chair in the cubicle. That’s when she’d finally succumb to tackling melting the slush pile with one rejection letter after another. On rare occasions, when the publishing sun, moon, and stars properly aligned, she’d find a treasure and pursue an unknown writer. But those days were few and far, far between.
With a handsome dose of humor, the writer of the blog Slush Pile Hell offers some snarky responses to the entries he faces as he thaws meaningless slush. A recent post notes a wanna-be writer:
My writing coach told me that my novel is not yet ready to send to agents and needs more work. Could you read the attached sample chapters and tell me if you think she’s right?
Grumpy agent response: I’d love to, but I’m terribly busy right now hitting myself in the head with a hammer.
For anyone who wants to make sure they don’t lose their sense of humor in the publishing world or otherwise, visit Slush Pile Hell. I can’t help but wonder if the editor I knew all those years ago is still at it–just with a new title and a feistier sense of humor.
Image from here.
