This weekend I received the tackiest rejection letter to date, by far. I sent in only an email query–no synopsis, no material. This is the emailed reply, in its entirety:

Dear Alyssa,

You picked the wrong agent. No chick lit, no magic and no one who does not know that fiction novel is redundant.

[It was, of course, signed by the agent, nary a closing in sight]

I find this response wrong on so many levels. I would have been fine with a canned response–in fact, I expect that. I realize agents are overrun with submissions and have hardly any time for individual replies. But clearly, this one made time for me.

She mentions ‘no chick lit’, but I pulled the following list of acceptable categories for fiction submissions to this agent off of this agent’s profile page on Agent Query today:

FICTION GENRES
Chick Lit | Mystery | Commercial Fiction | Women’s Fiction | Romance | Historical Fiction | Thrillers/Suspense | Adventure

Perhaps you can see how I might have been confused.

Her profile on Publisher’s Marketplace indicates these fiction categories:

GENRES & SPECIALTIES

General fiction, Mystery, Romance, Biography, Business/investing/finance, History, Health, Lifestyle, Cookbooks, Science

And her agency’s website says only this:
Agent X represents writers in many areas, including commercial women’s fiction, historical fiction, and mystery to biography, history, health, and lifestyle.

Nowhere that I can find is there a mention of ‘no chick lit’ or ‘no magic’.

Then there is her comment about my novel being redundant. Interesting. I’d be curious to know, not only which book I’m copying but how I’m expected even to be aware of it, what with the millions of books in print. I’ve queried quite a few agents over the last year or so, and a good number replied that they loved the idea and considered the premise unique and fun. Go figure.

You may be curious as to whether I wrote back. I did, but I kept myself in check, seeing as there were a great many things I would have liked to have said. I said only, “You might want to update your profile on Agent Query” (the one that specifies chick-lit). I also pasted in the info above. She wrote back almost immediately with the comment, “I did a while ago.” A second email from her showed me what she believed to be the updated info:

Fiction Genres:

Action/Adventure, Commercial Fiction, Historical Fiction, Mystery, Thrillers/Suspense, Women’s Fiction

Don’t know how the two of us are getting conflicting information, but either way, I consider this list inconclusive.

I really wanted to ask which novel(s) she had in mind when insisting that mine was redundant, but I didn’t. I think my husband said it best. He thought I should reply with, “You’re right. I did pick the wrong agent.”

And so the saga continues.

Addendum to Wednesday’s post: Okay, maybe I was overly optimistic when I specified three ingredients. Upon further consideration, nothing I might make with three ingredients is ever very impressive. We’re talking spaghetti noodles, sauce, and bread. Or a ham and swiss croissant. See? Nothing great. But five ingredients, definitely, especially if I don’t count seasonings. Then again, some recipes have a bevy of herbs and spices and that just gets crazy. So, I apologize if anyone was hoping for some delicious three-ingredient recipes. I can’t really deliver.

I drove down to Galveston with a friend yesterday and toured around a little bit to check the status of things five months after Ike hit. Slowly but surely, things are coming back, shops are openings, and the island is readying itself for summer. We drove down for lunch at the Sunflower Cafe & Bakery (I’d never been), and it was simply scrumptious. We decided to eat outside, and if it hadn’t been for the uber-determined flies that kept buzzing back and forth from my friend’s plate to my own, it would have been lovely.

Afterward we had no choice but to hit the bakery, and I came home with two perfectly round, perfectly powdered creme puffs. Now if this were indeed a foodie blog, there’d be a photo of said creme puff sitting on a plate from Anthropologie, the light slanting in from my lush, colorful garden, and a cozy cup of tea just waiting to be enjoyed.

Clearly, this is not a foodie blog–I devoured that creme puff straight out of the styrofoam container I brought it home in, and my husband did the same. I am not ashamed. I admit it–I eat standing up as often as not and try to minimize my dirty dishes as much as possible. (I can regularly be found carving out a piece of pie with a fork or eating my ice cream with the serving spoon I scooped it out with). Sure, I love the idea of a charming little tableau of tastiness, but things just never seem to pan out. The practical side of me squelches the dreamy, creative side on a daily basis.

I consider it a plus that I splurged on the creme puff at all.

I have become obsessed with food blogs. I turned over a new leaf this year, finally fed up with rotating the same twenty or so dishes through our monthly repetoire, and decided to search out some new favorites. So I’ve been studying cookbooks, scavenging magazines, and drooling over blog recipes and their accompanying photos. Makes we wonder what sort of photography equipment they have–obviously way better than my efficient little digital one-click.

I have tried a good many new recipes this year, and most of them I’ve really enjoyed, but I have to say, I think I have a pretty low ingredient threshold before I’m willng to give a recipe a try. And if there are sub-recipes within a recipe, it’s a pretty hard sell. I wouldn’t mind so much if I had a clean up crew waiting in the wings, but without even meaning to, my body is inwardly cringing at the ever-increasing mess as I go along. Clearly I have a pretty low dirty dish threshold as well. Which may be why this will never be a cooking blog, and why I’m destined to never try the really excellent gourmet recipes. Give me a three-to-five ingredient delicious little morsel, and I will slap it into the rotation and remain devoted. Wow me with the taste possibilities involved in a five-to-twelve ingredient dish, and I’ll dutifully give it a whirl. But over twelve and I pretty much have to be seduced.

I’m making myself a mini printout cookbook of recipes to try as we speak, with the sources clearly marked in case I need to go back for pictures or recipe tips. Right now we’re leaning rather heavily towards the sweets, which isn’t nearly as useful to me–I have two chai baked goods in the cookbook already!–but evidently I’m a little more experimental with my baking. So I say, go with your strengths. And try to reconcile a few pieces of crumb cake with a Special K diet.