Last night, I was in Writing Land, writing away, when the man of the house walked through and told me the movie he had just started was way creepier than he expected.
“These people are hiking through the woods, far from civilization, and there’s this old music from the 40s or something playing–they all hear it. And they found this hat, the type of hat from that era, and one of the guys put it on and refuses to take it off.”
I said, “Give me five minutes to finish this thought and I’ll come watch it with you.”
I should have prefaced this by saying: Writing Land is a single mass of land with one real inhabitant and several imaginary inhabitants on a planet 175 light years away from Earth. And when I’m there, the happenings of Earth are a slight tickle on my pinky toe that I’d be too busy to take my fingers off the keys to scratch if my pinky toe existed in Writing Land, which it doesn’t.
So in other words, this abandonment of Writing Land never happens. I didn’t even think it could happen. And I doubt it will ever happen again.
But that little blurb up there that roused me from Writing Land is exactly what we need in a query letter.
If you’re wondering, the movie was YellowBrickRoad, and it was worth the sacrifice. (Even if the people in my head disagree.)