This was definitely not meant to resemble the work of Tasha Tudor. More like Ansel Adams.
Dominating the room was a sleek glass desk with a chrome lamp in one corner, a black phone in the other, and a laptop computer in the center. Behind it sat a tall, thin woman wearing a tailored peach-colored suit—the only color in the room. Her dark hair, cut short with a line of razor-straight bangs, accentuated well-defined cheekbones. Perched on the end of her nose was a pair of diamond-studded half-moon glasses connected to a gold jeweled chain.
Ms. Bentley Burlington-Duke.
She had a decade on me and sat in her chair with the regality of a queen. Attired in a suit that likely cost as much as one of my mortgage payments, she radiated refinement and wealth. I reminded myself that I was a seasoned reporter and this agency was lucky to have me.
“Hello, I’m Lila Wilkins.” To my relief, I sounded cool and collected. “We spoke on the phone. I’m the new intern.”
“Sit.” She waved her hand at the chrome and leather chair opposite the desk.
Perching myself on the edge of the seat, I smoothed my skirt over my knees and wondered what task I’d be given for my first assignment.
Bentley typed a few more words, then closed the laptop and took off her glasses. They hung around her neck like an art deco necklace. She folded her arms and studied me. “In order to become a literary agent, you need to be able to read a query letter and instantly determine three things. One, can the author actually write? Consider voice, diction, pacing, and the use of correct grammar. Two, is there a market for the author’s idea? Three, is the author sensible and professional or a narcissistic, daydreaming drip? Here.” She slid a piece of paper across the desk. “One of these paragraphs was written by a current client. The other is by an unpublished writer who, if I had my druthers, would remain unpublished until the end of time. You tell me which is which.”
I reached over and picked up the paper. Slightly perplexed to be given an examination within minutes of my arrival, I started reading.
Query A: Annabelle is a nurse. She lives with her cat, Furball, who Annabelle believes is the reincarnation of her best friend, Shirley, who was also a nurse at the same hospital when she was alive. When a patient named Ray comes to the ER with mysterious wounds, Annabelle tries to figure out the truth behind his injuries. Annabelle eventually solves the mystery by talking about it to Furball, who shows her who the real culprit is. Annabelle and Ray also fall in love, but they have trouble staying together because Furball gets jealous.
Query B: A killer walks among the small population of Solitary, an isolated farming community in Wisconsin. On Halloween, a Methodist preacher is found dead in an abandoned barn, and suspicion is thrown first on Will Bradley, the local tavern owner. When Bradley is absolved and a herd of valuable livestock succumbs to an unidentified virus, the townsfolk point their fingers at Fred Hammer, the large animal veterinarian. Yet even after his incarceration, the loss of life continues. The idyllic community begins to crumble. Neighbors turn against neighbors. Secrets come to light that threaten to tear apart families and friends. When state police investigator Sara Carter is called to Solitary to track down a murderer hiding in plain sight, she must negotiate her way through a web of lies and deception to discover the truth hidden deep in the town’s dark and troubled history.
Was my new boss joking? The difference between the two paragraphs was so obvious I almost grinned. Looking up at her I said, “Query B was written by your client.”
“Well done,” Bentley said, though the agency head didn’t seem too dazzled by my powers of deduction. She pushed three fat tomes across the desk and stood. “These reference books will provide guidelines as to what makes a good query. Read them on your own time. Starting now, you will fulfill a quota of one hundred queries per day along with doing a critical read-through of two or three proposals as well as an assortment of other tasks. Because our last intern was rather inefficient, we have a shocking backlog of queries in our email inbox as well as in hardcopy form.”
She paused, using her slim hands to mime a mountainous stack of papers. “I am only interested in stellar queries,” she continued. “Once your laptop arrives, you can email those to me. As far as the rejections, you’re responsible for emailing out a form letter to each author. Be sure to keep electronic files for the rejects and the possibilities. For now, you’ll have to organize hard copies in folders and deliver the possibilities directly to the appropriate agent.” She walked around her desk and shook my hand. “Welcome to the Novel Idea Literary Agency, Lily.”
“It’s Lila,” I corrected, but my new boss appeared not to have heard. She breezed out of the office, shutting the door firmly behind her.