Hello, my name is Emily Gould. If you're anything like the Daily Intelligencer, you know "virtually nothing" about me, and, much as I'd like to keep it that way, my new slavedrivers have encouraged me to tell you a little bit about myself. Sooo. Monday was my last day as an associate editor at Hyperion Books, which might lead you to think that all those Unsolicited columns I wrote were based somewhat on my experiences there. Au contraire! I am actually a remarkable fabulist — hey, don't forget I'm also 50% responsible for a book about teenage witches — and I based all that stuff on crazy dreams I had.

Oh, why am I bothering? Obviously I sold out everyone I know and I'll never work in book publishing again. But just in case there's still a chance for me, I take this, my final opportunity to be sincere (and to write in the first person) for god knows how long, to apologize. I like you, agents and editors and authors. I hope you'll KIT, especially with news about, like, shitty proposals that sat in inboxes around town for quite a while before selling for too much dough, that kind of thing. Anyway, sorry! Hear that? I am starting my tenure here with a public apology. Strap on your helmets, my friends.