Disturbing Ode to a Literary Agent
A laborious and lengthy session of work on REAPERS WITH FANGS has led me to the sad conclusion that my writing needs work, so I’ve decided to give a bit of prose a try in an effort to beef up my chops.
Poetry and prose is not an area I am comfortable with as you will see, but the spirit of Halloween got the better of me and I rose to the occasion.
For better or worse I bring you:
DISTURBING ODE TO A LITERARY AGENT
How I wish I had the courage to kill you, my darling.
Oh, to have the strength to give you what you ask! Alas, my beloved, I am weak. You cannot imagine how it pained me to remove your feet.
Surely you understand the sacrifices we must make for our love!
It all started so beautifully, did it not?
That glorious day when at long last you chose me! I hardly believed it myself. Oh how you teased me, renaming my novel and asking your silly questions.
How did you know the pleasure I would receive, seeing your words in red intertwined with mine?
So why, oh why did it have to end?
Did my novelty wear off after only one revision?! Did you think I wouldn’t notice you had moved on to another? Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your words in red?
I recognized you. I recognized you because you belong to me.
I do not blame you for straying, my darling.
You are just an agent, after all, easily swayed by proper grammar and strict adherence to word counts. I forgive you your frailties.
But I see now that I have to protect you and our love from the seductive, literary succubi who covet your red ink for themselves.
Please do not cry, my sweet. You shall not miss your hands for long!
Just as you gave yourself to me, I shall become you.
I will sacrifice my own identity and assume yours as a testament to our devotion to each other. I will destroy these usurpers of our love with your own beautiful, red pen.
Oh how it will pain me to mingle my words with theirs.