5° Edizione di Venice&Video
Giovedì 2 dicembre 2010
h 18
Biblioteca di Servizio Didattico-Zattere-Venezia
Xyzxyz Dear Madam, my name is Amanda Curcio
. I'm seventeen years old and blind since I was ten. This fortunately does not prevent me to imagine other worlds, and so in the past two years I spent much of my free time writing a fantasy novel that can be found in the Annex. It is a story set in a world dark and decadent, sometimes in brilliant colors, because the images that form in the dark can be scary when you can not see. In all this work I was near my grandmother Julia, strong reader and a great lover of all shades of fantastic, giving me good advice and cleaning out my manuscript to a million typos. Hoping that the novel would be to his liking, I greet you cordially.
Amanda
thanks Amanda,
the light '.
xyzxy xyzxyz
Thanks to send, I read with pleasure. Where do you live?
Xyzxy
Sent from my iPad
many thanks to you for the availability
I live in london
good night amanda
"Hello?"
"Hello, I would like to speak with Amanda ..."
"Hello Amanda ... she is not here now, I'm the father. We are on holiday."
"When do I find it?"
"We are now in Ireland, but we go home tomorrow."
"My name Xyzxy Xyzxyz and literary agent. Amanda sent me a novel ..."
"Yes, yes, I know everything."
"Ah well! I and my colleagues are reading the novel and think that Amanda has very much talent. You can tell Amanda to call me as soon as possible?"
"Yes indeed."
"Where do you live?"
"Genoa."
"Thank you, goodbye."
"Goodbye, thank you."
Madam Xyzxyz,
since my intention was not to make fun of good people, after the phone call two days ago, I feel compelled to tell you that Amanda does not exist.
The novel that you have at hand was written by an engineer of some forty years' exasperated by publishers and literary agents who have never wanted to read a single line, and that in most cases have never even deign to answer the question "can I send?". A world that seems to only open to recommendations, and in the case of fantasy literature preferably minors.
With the name of Amanda so I sent my novel to a little 'of publishers and agents, as an experiment to see if a novel can be valuable in itself or if that counts for a publisher is only able to use the figure author for advertising purposes, and in this case let go of all the Italian publishing. But I do not want to run the risk of misleading people who do not deserve it at all with publishers who deserve it instead of some, so I apologize if I took advantage of his good faith. If the novel is more interesting if Amanda was not writing it, I hope you did not lose too much time on her and her co-workers, and that reading was not too unpleasant.
Sincerely, Alexander
Dear Alessandro,
after the initial shock I realized and appreciated his reasoning.
Unfortunately I have to say that the book that starts in an excellent manner, while maintaining the excellent writing, I was disappointed. There are too many characters and the narrative line is blurred.
but I'd like to read something written by you which is not fantasy. She
-like Amanda - she has talent but the market today is difficult.
I am open to new ideas from her.
Regards,
Xyzxy Xyzxyz
[...] When the publisher came to me asking to republish the book, I am careful not to lose his hands. The book is completely rewritten by myself, I have not edited in any way to listen to advice from readers and professionals more or less experts in the field, I have not worked for mica months full time, nor have I requested any help. This
bone dice were thrown. Arthritic fingers of blind probing them one by one.
"How did you say your name, son?"
" G ****.»Yeah, we fantasy readers: it is better to be safe.
"What?" Have patience, my ears are so tired. "
'G ****.»
"So G ****, what do you see that?"
"I do not know ... My future. "
" Ah, your future, "he grinned M ****. "Tonight you will sleep here at the hostel. A restless sleep, I would say ... "
" This I could guess too. Not what I meant. "
" How? "
" I did not mean the future tonight. "
" Tomorrow morning you wake up with a full bladder. "
" You're taking the piss? "
" Not at all young man. I'm seeing your future. I see a latrine. "
" You're taking the piss. "
" You're wrong. "
" Am I wrong? You say I'm wrong ... And then ... If you now ... And if you now ... "[Great dialogue. You see, the work of true professionals?]
"And now what if?"
"And now if I were to make the bully? So I do not anything could happen, now that a sleep here safely. "
[And you a little 'how the fuck you think ...]
"A restless sleep," said the old woman. "But you do not have a point."
"Are you serious?"
"Listen, dear son, I'm blind and decrepit. I still have three teeth in his mouth. And they are also pretty dull. "
The young man shook his chair. Then he turned abruptly to B *****.
"And what do you want? It is a piece that you sit here and listened. Go to work, nosy, "
Caught in the act, the landlord went off in a hurry. Who would have thought that this young man was so insolent. It will be the fault of old, he told B *****. Basically it was taking the piss.
Baron threw himself on a servant with a shrill cry. There was a brief struggle, then a shot and a body fell to the ground.
A black figure, perched on a branch, watching the scene. V ********* shouted and shook the body of the Baron, to no avail. Already his blood smeared over the bridge and the rain washed it away.
"Our Lady, I did! Mr. Baron, "From the castle were
lanterns, lights, dark figures like insects that were busy on deck. The creature had a strange to like punishment, there was another flash in the woods, but the
black silhouette was gone.
Baron threw himself on a servant with a snarl. He grabbed his left the barrel of the rifle with his right hand and tried to grab her throat, but that he jumped back. The Baron felt in my ears the sound of a gunshot, a cloud of acrid smoke blinded him and then came the pain in your gut, like a hammer blow. He felt his strength fail him and he fell on his knees, then lying on his back while his head hit the boards hard in the deck. Something warm and slimy flowed under the hands, pressed on the abdomen.
Baron tried to scream, but only came out a gasp. V *********,'s face twisted and wet with rain, was bending over him.
"Our Lady, I did! Mr. Baron, "whimpered.
Baron felt the taste of blood in his mouth. Then he saw her behind the head of V *********. A black figure, perched on a branch, seemed to observe the scene. Baron closed his eyes and opened them. Dal castello venivano le lanterne, insetti luminosi che sciamavano sul ponte. Il Barone sentì un verso venire dall'alto sopra gli alberi, come un lamento. Un lampo, e la creatura nera non c'era più.
Un brivido di freddo, uno spasmo in tutto il corpo, e il Barone esalò il respiro.
Il M********* arrivò nel Ducato A ******** an autumn night, the first to notice it was the Baron S **********.
Baron S ********** T ******* was a big man whose big chin whiskers topped by blacks gave him something of the walrus and something Orange. The noble dressed in black corduroy, a plumed hat, the belt a couple of rifles: more than a nobleman looked like a bandit, who meet at night in a farmer would have died of fright.
That night, as usual, went for wine cellars and taverns late and just now he came home on the back of Urri, his white horse.
It took a lot of courage to go around at that hour, in one night when it seemed that God had begun to cry for all the sins of the world. It was raining that heavy rain that turns the edges of things, the stems of old vines seemed to lean in the cold to count the bones of the feet.
L’effetto dell’alcol si era già dissolto nel gelo e il Barone malediceva il suo cattivo sangue, che lo aveva costretto a uscire per soddisfare il gusto del vino e della buona compagnia. Tutto ciò che desiderava adesso era entrare nel building, get rid of the coat wet and be served a roast mutton with a little 'of boiled beans. The lights of the castle had become close, and seized with a fit of impatience spurred his horse, Baron.
Baron threw himself on a servant with a shrill cry. There was a brief struggle, then a shot and a body fell to the ground.
A black figure, perched on a branch, watching the scene.
V ********* shouted and shook the body of the Baron, to no avail. Already his blood smeared over the bridge and the rain washed it away.
"Our Lady, I did! Mr. Baron, "
From the castle were the lanterns, lights, dark figures like insects that were busy on deck.
The creature had a strange verse, as a penalty, there was another flash in the woods, but the black shape was not more.
[...] I confess my inability fully understand this new form of entertainment vaguely similar to the narrative.
Remember that, as good and competitive can be your product, though it may increase profitability and reduce costs of the company, no one will ever buy if you have the slightest inkling that can go any way to undermine his power. Because, as they say in Naples, control is better than fuck .
A-ha, once you said that the previous winner, e-Doll, it sucked, so now you can not boast!
Ucci Ucci, I smelled shit sell!
Io c’ero, so come è andata.
INT. GIORNO Uffici della Newton & Compton
Entra il direttore editoriale.
D: “A Cristià, ma che, me stai ancora a le straggi e a li servizzi deviati? Svejate bello! Queli de la Enaudi stanno a fa’ er botto co ‘a Strazzu, e noi ce stamo a fa’ magnà er manfano da le mosche! Quelli ce fanno ‘n bucio così!”
A: “Vabbe’, ma che dovrei fare?”
D: “Te devi d’aripijà! Trovame n’artro moccicoso che scrive robbe de draghi, prima de subbito!”
Esce sbattendo la porta.
A***** sospira, chiude il faldone con gli atti della commissione parlamentare d’inchiesta. Scende nel seminterrato e apre il bidone della carta da riciclare, tira fuori i manoscritti fantasy arrivati negli ultimi sei mesi. Scarta tutti quelli dove l’autore è nato prima del 1990, e dei rimanenti legge la prima pagina, seduto su una pila di libri alla luce della lampadina da 15 Watt. Fa una sosta all’una e un quarto per un tramezzino, poi si rimette al lavoro. Scarta tutti quelli che non sono scritti in italiano. Alle 16,23 ne è rimasto solo uno: Bryan di Boscoquieto.Alle 16,24 è nell’ufficio del direttore editoriale e glielo molla sulla scrivania.
A: "Here it is a bomb."
D: (peering into the title), "Are you sure? Braian de Wirewood? "
A:" Absolutely. Never read anything like it. "
D:" Anyways, 'Daje: trust me. Tiramone 10,000 copies printed to see 'what happens. "A ***** it back to the office with a sense of relief and goes back to do more serious things.
Guys, for those who want to know how it really happened, and that there are mechanisms for publication of basic rileggetevi's comment, "Mr. Stockfish.Mazzantini And then there's the author of the excellent (for starting the fire) Garmir eclissiomante for the types and Baldini Castoldi Dalai:
sounds like a parody ... but it's exactly what happened.
Even I was there.
How did you meet as a publisher Baldini and Castoldi? It is certainly not bad for a rookie ...
I learned from a family friend that the publishers of Baldini Castoldi Dalai had a house in Elba, Marina di Campo. So I went there with my scooter and I brought them to read the manuscript. Fortunately, this was their son, who read for first novel and has advised parents to check it out. They did so and soon after I was contacted. In practice, I was lucky.
1) sniff the air, follow the smell.
2) Once identified as a new fashion, be quick to jot down from 300 to 700 pages. Do not re-read, not once, so he will not even your editor.
3) Go find editors at home, playing on the intercom if necessary at 3 am (this is essential).
4) Four.
5) Be lucky.