Sunday, April 19, 2015

Reverse slides and clitellums

I was looking through old blog posts the other day because no children + no lawn care responsibilities = nothing to live for, and realized that I've never revealed what my novel is about on this blog, at least not formally. Sure, I've told you about all the agent rejections I've endured, my new straws, my very rational fear of supervolcanoes, that time I spazzed out and turned my book into a TV pilot and got a psychic reading... but will I actually tell you what my book is about? On a blog devoted entirely to my book? Pfhh. Of course not!

Truth be told, I've been putting it off. Since I've never been truly happy with any of the short, snappy descriptions I've come up with, I've been too damn chicken to include any one of them here.

This is a hurdle I need to overcome pronto because not having a good log line/elevator pitch/whatever-you-want-to-call-it is proving to be a problem. Especially at brunch. And brunch is enough of a problem for me (for everyone, really) without adding book-description-related anxiety into the mix.

Take yesterday's brunch, for example. I met this very interesting woman who summarized her PhD thesis pretty much like this: Worms + lasers + morphine = pain response. And I was like Oh my god, if this was a book I would buy it!

And then she asked me what my book was about and I was all "Um, it's about this woman who..." and then I trailed off and started picturing strung-out worms with sores on their clitellums living in shallow puddles of sizzurp on Skid Row.

So I need to perfect my elevator pitch is what I'm saying. For two reasons: 1) My book is coming out relatively soonish, and 2) It doesn't look like elevators are going away any time soon. Which is too bad because I invested heavily in reverse-slide futures.

Reverse slide (noun): Like a regular slide but also goes up.