From The Slush Pile II
A few more gems from the stack of unsolicited manuscripts that reach publishers, giving an insight into how the minds of some would-be writers work…
‘You didn’t have to be an in-law to hate her guts,’ said Chester, ‘no pun intended.’
His pen poised, John hesitated over the white breast of the page.
Immediately after the helicopter was clear the clouds continued their romp across the early evening sky in eager anticipation of the coming of the storm that lingered unmoving just above them.
She screamed in the soprano range.
Her chocolate eyes were the envy of many friends.
His wiry body oozed with goose-bumpy joy.
The diamond necklace buried in the folds of her neck screamed ‘MONEY!’
The sergeant smiled wearily or warily, depending on how you spell it.
Jenny looked like a china doll. Grey-haired Louise was six months younger and looked twenty years older. Of course tragedy did these things to people. Jenny’s own husband had died two years ago of a heart attack but she hadn’t gone all to pieces. Of course, Louise’s husband and son had been victims in a murder case, which was rather different.
Special Dan Brown section
Where to begin with Mr Brown’s own special blotches of gibberish? How about these?
As he advanced, his dark eyes seemed to scorch the earth before him, radiating a fiery clarity that forecast his reputation for unblinking severity in all matters.
Overhanging her precarious body was a jaundiced face whose skin resembled a sheet of parchment paper punctured by two emotionless eyes.
Here’s someone apparently being thumped with a kaleidoscope.
Five months ago, the kaleidoscope of power had been shaken, and Aringarosa was still reeling from the blow.
Brown is beyond parody. His characters stop to describe cars and buildings while fleeing from the police, and the author throws in utterly irrelevant information in the mistaken assumption that it adds verisimilitude;
Only those with a keen eye would notice his 14-karat gold bishop’s ring with purple amethyst, large diamonds, and hand-tooled mitre-crozier appliqué.
Special ‘Twilight’ Section
Stephanie Meyer leaves Dan Brown far behind in the stinking prose stakes. She actually cannot write, which makes her books impossible to read unless you skim them for plot bones. Over to you, Steph;
None of them bought an apple, especially Edward.
His beauty stunned my mind.
His answering smile was dazzling.
It was probably beautiful, or something.
Aro laughed. ‘Ha ha ha,’ he giggled.
It’s no good, I can’t go on. I’m off to write a grammatically correct book that won’t sell one millionth as well as the above.