I’m setting aside my usual Monday grumble to do a happy dance involving pigeons.
A couple days ago, Betsy Lerner invited her blog readers to share the titles of their works-in-progress . The one she liked best would win its writer an autographed, revised copy of her book, Forest for the Trees.
Full disclosure: I’ve read my first edition copy of Forest to the point where it’s in desperate need of a spinectomy and if I were to contract a dread childhood disease and consign it to the rubbish heap for fear of contagion, it would probably become a Real Editor as per the Velveteen Rabbit Rule. It’s funny and encouraging and has helped me understand so much about the writing business and the business of writing. Awesome book—and great holiday gift for that writer you know, or the one you are.
So I submitted The Pigeon Drop and went on to read what ended up being looong list of great titles, feedback, and suggestions; Ms. Lerner has a talented and supportive community over there. When I checked back on my entry, there was some confusion over what a pigeon drop was*—plus a couple of interesting guesses—and someone asked me to give a brief idea of my premise, which I did.
Guys . . . my title came in first. Not only that, but Ms. Lerner had some encouraging things to say about the premise.
That should keep me going for a while, once I can stop making this breathless, squeeing noise every time I think about it.
But before I do, please join me in another brief happy dance!
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*It’s a common street scam with many variations, usually based on “found” money and the offer to share it, if you’ll only put up some of your own cash to prove you’re an honest person . . . who wants a share of money that doesn’t actually belong to you. If you agree, you’ll end up with your fair share all right, minus whatever you put up. And, yeah, you’re the pigeon in this scenario.
Earful of Cider 