(With apologies to any agents who may be reading this!)
Erica: I hear you’ve snagged a new author?
Dominic: Yup. Huge talent.
Erica: Exciting. What’s the elevator pitch?
Dominic: Vampire lover of the Machu Picchu Mummies chats up girl on train.
Dominic: I know. Vampires. Sex. Desiccated bodies. A girl and a train.
Erica: You lucky sod.
Dominic: She’s promotable, too. Young. Photogenic. Married to a neuro-surgeon.
Erica: And all I’ve got at the moment is a talking caterpillar…
Erica: Though maybe the vampire thing is losing its edge…
Dominic: My publishers reckon it still has bite. The mummy thread unravels a bit, but that should be fixable.
Erica: Providing she’s co-operative, of course.
Dominic: True. When they first get an agent, writers think them the best thing since chocolate fudge cake. Sadly, that doesn’t last.
Erica: Tell me about it. The minute you want to edit their manuscript, you become Godzilla.
Dominic: Yeah. Ask them to cut fifty thousand words, or tone down the sado-masochism and stick in a werewolf, and they go all Jane Austen on you.
Erica: Writers, eh? But I guess we need them.
Dominic: I know. The dream. Finding another JKR. Earning enough to buy that yacht – and never needing to plough through another mountain of bloody awful submissions again…