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Emma, editor extraordinaire

A scientifical fact that I have just made up with my mighty robot powered brain is that there is a direct correlation between how much work I have to do and how much enthusiasm I have to do it. The more work I have, the more I want to do anything else other than the work. When things are quiet, I have oodles of it – I become a mass of “c’mon c’mon I can do THIS and I can earn THAT and I can edit THAT and write THIS if only if were right here in front of me” energy, powering through the universe on my Enthusias-o-matic 3000 scooter.

Until it is right in front of me and I morph into “beh, what’s TMZ pimping out today … that rubbish should be taken out … I need to stare at the wall for an hour or so, maybe … I wonder what would happen if dogs had thumbs …” energy. Or un-energy, which is probably more accurate.

Guess which form I am today?

One of my clients seems to regard me as a 24/7 on call ‘write shit out of thin air’ kind of resource. She just sent through something that needs to be done by last Friday for her son – an answer for an award he’s going for.

“What was the driving force that inspired you to start your own business?”

With two lines of answer. Consisting mostly of instructions like ‘can you fill this out a bit and expand it and maybe put a quote in that sums up my point’.

Two lines.

What point? I think you’ll find there’s no point. And expand what? The request to expand what’s not there? And if it was due last Friday, what the hell is the point of doing it today? And if you can’t answer it yourself, maybe you shouldn’t be entering the comp buddy.

There’s a blank space where the payment goes on these types of jobs. Because, obviously, I just love doing this so much that I was going to be writing an answer to an asinine question like that anyway today, just in case someone needed it answered.

What about this:

“I was motivated to start my own business by the lack of real jobs for people with qualifications like mine and I like working from home in my jammies and being able to fart about until 3 am before a deadline when I start typing madly with a twitchy eye.”

Oh wait, it’s why HE does, not me.

Maybe:

“I was motivated to start my own business by my inability to get another job and my insatiable greed and the example of my mother who runs a business without knowing or caring about the industry and rips people off by charging 80% on top of what her beautiful yet modest editor charges for her work. It looks so easy I thought hey, why not do it too.”

Hmm, perhaps too honest.

I don’t even know what his business is called, and only know it’s something to do with computers and data. And that he rides a motorbike and sometimes gets blond tips in his hair. I don’t think that’s the kind of info they want though.

The most annoying thing is that I can pull answers to asinine questions like this out of my arse. I don’t like to, but I can, and quite well – well enough to make people sound so flash they actually win these things, all along knowing that they are lies – damned lies – I’m writing.

It’s a bit like the press releases I write from time to time for the bumcake books I edit that shouldn’t really see the light of day. And yes, I’m an elitist, and yes, I would kick postmodernism’s no absolute truth reader response theories in the face with my energy legs too. Go the canon kids – it’s a canon for a reason.

But what’s a girl to do? It pays the bills, and I assuage my literary guilt by telling myself that everyone has a right to be published if they want to be and pay to be. I am there to make their books less bumcake-esque and if you saw the original you would see how much ‘better’ I inserted into it.

And by the way, all you people who conveniently ‘forget’ I worked on your book? Even though I’m right there at the launch, standing around being peered at by your friends and family with my fantastic hair? Even though you find the time to thank the printers, the illustrators, the typsetters and the project manager, and can’t include me WHO REWROTE YOUR BOOK FOR YOU SO YOU DIDN’T EMBARRASS YOURSELF WITH THE SORRY DRIBBLE YOU HAD WRITTEN, I’m fine with it. Really.

When people ask who I am and why I’m there, I tell them exactly who I am and what I did for the book.

Not really. I just smile and stuff my face with the free food and smile some more.

And then write rants about you behind your back while I add extra hours to your invoices.

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R. Rhemus Reefer, offering to help S and CC

Is there someone making your life a living hell? No longer will you have to take it! Even if you grew up as the school yard pussy your day has come! That’s right folks, you’ll be singing “Oh Happy Day” when you can finally get back at those losers who have taunted and bullied you since the 2nd grade!

Ghost Writer Inc. is proud to announce our new line of Personal Threats.

Is your husband still screwing the slut from next door? Is your wife still banging that rich asshole from the office? Do your co-workers still smirk when you arrive in your big American ride with the V-8? Does your boss, mother-in-law, or pain in the ass co-worker need an adjustment of the personal kind?

Threaten them! They are guaranteed to shit right in their pants when you unleash the fury of a Ghost Writer Personal Threat.

They will piss in their shorts with panic! They’ll cry tears of dread and terror! They’ll be hobbled with horror! Their doom will do double duty! They’ll be frigid with fright! Never again will they know a moment of peace as they look over their miserable shoulders, never knowing how or when you will strike! Night after sleepless night the “Menace of You” will haunt their very dreams! They will crawl at your feet and beg for your kindness but your sympathy has gone the way of the dodo bird. It’s extinct! Their intestines will turn to jelly and they’ll make the projectile vomit scene from The Exorcist look like child’s play! Their doom will be real!

Let the Ghost you trust the most customize a threat to fit your personal needs. Blood will run cold all over the neighborhood when your friends and family realize you are now in charge. And just in case one of your intended scumbags is “vision impaired” or they can’t read, Ghost Writer Inc. can now offer you a fearsome Audio Threat on 8-Track, cassette, or CD! Your worries are over when you make a selection from Ghosty’s “Graveyard Gallery” “Cemetery of Fun,” “Tomb of Doom,” and “Cold Cocked Co-workers” collections.

You’ll be able to terrorize even the heartiest soul. But wait because there’s more! Along with your paid order at the regular price, you’ll receive a complimentary “Letter to Satan” to announce their arrival in Hell! That’s a $30.00 value! Even if you decide not to carry out your “Day of Dread” keep the Letter to Satan as your free gift!

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R. Rhemus Reefer, ghost writer extraordinaire

Is there something important you need to put in writing but you just don’t have the time or energy to get it done? Do you know what needs to be said but you can’t get it from your head to the paper? Is it a “Dog eat dog” world and you’re wearing Milk Bone underwear? If you answered “Yes” tothese questions, then you need the Ghost Writer!

Your caffeine-laden days are long enough without the worry of how you’re going to sneak up on your keyboard. You know what you have to do and you avoid it, but once again that blank monitor screen mocks you like an unforgiving ex-wife! You have enough to worry about. I mean, when was the last time you enjoyed a meal that wasn’t served to you through your car window after shouting your disgusting order into the nightmarish face of some monstrous clown, a mutant chicken head, or a fearsome twelve foot taco? It’s time to slow down because your personal Ghost Writer is here to help!

You Ghost Writer specializes in:

Ransom Demands – Hate Letters – Love Letters
Prescription Fraud – Welfare Scams
Divorce Papers – Prenuptial Agreements – Check Forging
Identity Theft – Marriage Vows
Bank Robbery Notes – Letters to Santa Claus
Letters to God, Moses, and Satan…

AND SO MUCH MORE!

When the time comes, your personal Ghost Writer will be there for you in your darkest hour as you mourn the passing of a loved one. Put your order in early for a custom eulogy that is guaranteed to elicit tears from a stone! And for the same low fee (and a thirty day notice) the Ghost Writer will deliver your deluxe eulogy in person!

Do you need to tell that “Special Someone” to take a hike but you’re at a loss for just the right expletives? Your worries are over when you choose from Ghost Writer’s “Kick him/her to the curb” specials!

And like the Ghost Writer are you tired of the typical, boring, and time worn cardboard sentiments of the usual love-themed greeting card? You’ll be able to jump start the romance you so richly deserve when you make a selection from Ghost Writers “Ghost With the Most” birthday, Valentine, and anniversary collections!

Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened way back in April of 1865 if Abraham Lincoln had octopus tentacles instead of a beard? Think Honest Abe would’ve been able to disarm John Wilkes Booth and still be able to applaud the play? Now you can sit back and let me type that best seller!

You can rest easy knowing that the Ghost Writer will use all his powers and all his skills so your satisfaction is not just a ghost of a chance! For your convenicence, your troubles are over sooner when you try our new drive-up window for even faster service!

Rantasaurus Says: Um, can you also run a website? Daddy Rexie just needs a few days at the ol’ spa. I’m achin’ for a mani-pedi.

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Dear Amazon.com,

Please stop e-mailing me about Dean Koontz’s new book. I don’t care. You tell me that I’ll like this one because of how much I enjoyed his other books, and I wonder why you think that? Dean Koontz is a fucking tool box, and I’d rather sit through Daniel Steel’s whole library before I ever read one of his books. I have never read one of his books, and I sure as hell am not going to start with The Good Guy (Kill Me Instead).

Dean Koontz’s books are about as interesting as Wheel of Fortune, and Koontzy himself is a total fucking douche bag. I met the asshole at a book signing once when I worked at Borders. Oh, and by meet I mean told him which way the john was while he stared at my sixteen-year-old tits.

If you think I’ll like this book just because my wish list has an overabundance of graphic novels, well I have to inform you otherwise. Reading graphic novels does not a 30-something sales rep with a 6th grade reading level make. Graphic novels are about pretty pictures and Alan-Moore-esq theological debate. They are not your big brother’s thrillers and murder mysteries. Get over it.

Oh, and if this is all about me being in Law School, I WILL FUCKING STAB YOU IN YOUR SLEEP.

very truly yous,
-Ic0re

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First, our Rantsplosion winner, with a titilating cliffhanger, is RantyRex, one of our favorite contributors, and this is no exception. Stay tuned for “My Government Job Part 1.”

Our Emergency Contest winner, writing on the topic of “I Hate Comcast,” is, without a doubt, Rantoceros, with his opus, “How Do I Loathe Thee, Comcast?”

Thank you both very much for your submissions, and everybody else for participating. In the future we will actually have… you know… prizes, but we are working on super-exclusive t-shirts.

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Kimberly, no-time novelist

Dear Everyone Who’s A Literary Agent,

You know what? My novel is great and I hate you all. I work for literally weeks on this thing and you say it needs work? What’s wrong with you? It’s got great characters, the dialogue absolutely sizzles (told you I’m a writer) and it’s the best story ever. I keep sending it out and you people keep saying no, no, no.

Well you know what, Mr. Literary Agent? I hate you and you’re probably ugly and you have bad eyes and fat little fingers and you sit there, writing rejection e-mails to me and I would just rather pee on your keyboard than ever be represented by you!

Revisions you want? Fine! I’ll fart out some revisions today and then I won’t send them to you. Because I’ll take your suggestions, make my book the next Great American Novel and send it to someone else. Then we’ll see who’s boss. Every time I get a royalty check, I’ll send you an e-mail saying:

“You could be sitting on whatever number of $$$ if you hadn’t rejected me, donkey.”

I’ll see you at Barnes and Noble, bitches, where my books will be front and center and your ass will be broke.

Sincerely,
The Next JK Rowling

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