Sunday, September 11, 2005

Canadian Literary Agencies

Miranda begins her search.
Considering the DOL lives in a pleasant and torpid little camp site in the boonies in the great North BoonieLand, and far, far from sophisticated trails and canyons of New York that was once New Amsterdam, she looks for a native guide.
There are not that many.
Miranda does not need pebbles. She has only to take her shoes off.
Gerard Jones, for one, lists only 17 at last count.

Most of them she sees, examining the birch bark, desire to guide only literary works and non-fiction.
Since the DOL's little tale does not concern growing up/growing old/growing alienated/poor/rich/ native/ethnic/abused in Come-By-Chance, Cabbagetown, Estevan, Sask., or Osoyoos, B.C., she puts her shoes back on. She finds she can put one of her mittens back on.
She wonders how they define "commercial fiction." Hmmmm. She takes the mitten off again.
A couple have connections with medicine men. She doesn't trust that. Another appears to be lost in the woods as no one has heard from him for some time. Another is busy with Kit Carson, Simon Frazer, Alexander Mackenzie and assorted voyageurs. Trickster Raven grabs her birchback message before it was finished and flew off with it. She burns with shame. She knows how that will be received by a guide.
She sighs and pulls the mitten back on.
Five.

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