Thursday, February 15, 2007

How to Tell You're Never Going to Get Published (part 2)

Another quiz!

What the children's book market needs more of is books about:

a. morals

b. how much mommy loves you

c. kids who find out they have a special power and must go away to school to learn about it

d. squirrels

4 comments:

Happy Days said...

Is this a trick question?

Everybody knows the CB world needs more moralistic stories about pet squirrels and their mommy who loves them.

Clive said...

You know, I'm with you on the squirrel thing. A couple of months back I'm in the kitchen and I hear a loud knocking sound. I search the house up and down looking for the source. I find nothing. Eventually I track it down - my trash can in the back yard - a plastic wheely bin. A squirrel is eating it. Yep, it's God's honest truth. So there it is hammering away like a woodpecker. I see the two inch round hole it has eaten away. I call the recycling company in the hope they have some kind of anti-squirrel policy.
'Hello? Yeah, I got a eh, squirrel eating my wheely bin.'
'Excuse me?'
'I got a squirrel eating my wheely bin not ten feet away from where I'm standing.'
'I see. Do you mean the squirrel is eating the bin, or its eating the contents of your bin?'
'It's eating my bin, ma'am. I'll need a new one within a matter of hours ... Christ, nuts must be in short supply.'
'Okay. Hold please.'
I can hear the lady whispering to a colleague: 'I've got a fruit case on the line!' she says. So I hang up, realising she thinks I'm crazy. In the end I'm left to deal with the squirrel problem myself. I feel like Bill Murray in Caddyshack chasing Gophers around a golf course ...

Just the other day I'm driving down a country road, beautiful evening, listening to Bach on the radio. Perfect. Then I notice a dark blob falling from the sky. I frown and take a second glance. As it approaches I can see it's a grey squirrel, legs spread, fluffy tail quivering in the wind. Of course my sunroof is open and it falls right in. 'Arrhh!' I scream. My car twists, turns, screeches. I almost descend into a ditch. The squirrel is squealing, flipping over, defying gravity, its sharp feet digging into my leather seats. So I jump out, heart thumping, and leave the door open so it can escape. I have to wait 20 minutes while it sits on the back seat nibbling a crunchy nut before scampering off. Of course I'm late for my appointment but the squirrel doesn't give a damn.

Now I'm left thinking, hey, someone's trying to tell me something. After all my experiences maybe I should write a squirrel story. Kind of Mission Impossible, but squirrel-like, you know? I think to myself ... don't be so god damn stupid!

Editorial Anonymous said...

Oh, my. I'm not sure whether I love you or the squirrel more in that story!

Qual said...

Great! Does that mean squirrels are back in vogue and you'll offer me a fantastic book deal with a seven figure advance? I'm joking of course. But seriously ... they're true squirrel stories. Truth is stranger than fiction as the cliche goes. It was either lie on a couch at great expense or post them onto your blog. I went for the latter because your blog is wonderfully resourceful and entertaining. Incidentally, I didn't mean to use my real name, Clive. Do'h! It's Qual from now on.