Bree Ogden is… Jesus… how do I introduce Bree to y’all. Hmmm. She’s great. She’s all knowing. She’s damned talented, and she’s super fun. She’s also a SUPERAGENT for the D4EO Agency – a full service, six-agent literary agency representing authors of a very broad range of commercial fiction and non-fiction for children, young adults, and adults.

Yeah… I copy and pasted that last bit from  their website. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Nothin’. That’s what.

Anyways, listen… the reason I asked Bree to have a shout over here at DT is because I think it’s about damned time our audience gets to take a look at her wares. She’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure, but shit… look at her resume:

She’s a literary agent who specializes in: Highly artistic picture books, Middle grade, Young Adult, Adult, Graphic Novels, Nonfiction, Humor, Pop Culture, and Art books (YAY Copy & Paste, again!) Can you say Nerdgasm galore, anyone? Not to mention the fact that she has a healthy fondness for the most bizarre and beautiful things that our genre has to offer, and then some.

What’s more is the fact that Bree doesn’t limit herself to just representing creative folks. She’s the yin to Rebekah Joy Plett’s ginger yang, and one of the powerhouses behind Underneath the Juniper Tree – one of my favorite publications for those scary little bastards we parent.

In my opinion, there’s nothing this saucy superagent can’t handle. She’s a laugh-riot and a blast, and one of my favorite people in the world. That’s why I demand you fulfill her Christmas wishes this year.

What are you waiting for? Go.

Now.

Unfortunately for you all, Colum asked me to guest post on the wicked Dreadful Tales to talk about my most sinister, sexual, wrong-in-the-head Christmas wishes. In fact, I believe his exact words were “let the crazy flow.” Yes, I’m a literary agent for children’s literature, I operate a children’s magazine and I look innocent enough, but if I had my way, Christmas would be a hell of a lot more gruesome. We’ve already boxed out the big man upstairs so why not make it as malevolent as possible? Halloween has nothing on my Christmas.

First on my list to Santa combines two of my favorite things. Comic books and Magic Mike. It’s a bit more complicated than that, Santa. Don’t put away your magic wand yet. I’ll take one Geoff Johns writing and drawing comic books while simultaneously dancing like Magic Mike. And because most of the dancing involves humping the ground, he’ll have a hard surface on which to work. I can tell by your blank stare that you haven’t seen Geoff Johns. Let me make your jaw drop. Normally I’d be fine with just Geoff Johns doing a little Magic Mike up on me, but if I can get an original comic book out of it, well who am I to turn down Santa’s generosity.

While Colum wishes for smut and knitting gear, my second item for Santa might tangle him up in some illegal activity. Nut up, Santa. I spent years being a good little girl for you. I think you can make the sacrifice…

Anthropodermic bibliopegy.

Books made of human skin. But wait, it gets better. What is better than a book bound. out. of. human. skin, you ask? The tradition of erotica being bound in human skin. It’s rumored that there’s a copy of that naughty libertine, the Marquis de Sade’s, Les Infortunes de la Vertubound in tanned skin from female breasts. I’m not going to beat around the bush here, friends, I’d pay quite the price, whether monetarily, physically, or emotionally to get my hands on that exact copy. That’s like the Brad Pitt of book packaging. 18^th century erotica bound from real female breasts? On a scale of one to Jeffrey Dahmer, how creepy does that make me?

But I’d settle for a journal made of human skin. Hell, I’d settle for a bookmark.

Alright Santa, I’ll throw you a bone. This one should be easy enough. I fully expect to see Craig Yoe’s The Strange World of Your Dreams: Comics Meet Sigmund Freud and Salvador Dali under my tree come Christmas morning.Comics, incest, and trippy images. Add a little eggnog and you’ve got Uncle Dewey’s idea of Christmas Eve.

Another item on my “All I Want For Christmas” list is for everyone to stop getting “so it goes” tattoos! How many of you can name what novel that line is from? How many of you think that the people with it tattooed on them forever have even read that novel? It’s Slaughterhouse Five, by the way. Regardless of whether or not they live for the book or Vonnegut himself, if I see another “so it goes” tattoo I can guarantee you’ll see me writing journal entries in a human skin journal with faded “so it goes” all over it instead of dried out nipples. (Yea, that was a pretty gross threat.)

But above all. I want nothing more than a book about a festering tongue monster that takes over an adult dating service, enslaves all the women in the world to demean their husbands and boyfriends, thus sending the whole planet’s male ego plummeting to an all time low, leading to an apocalyptic scenario that is jaw-droppingly lacklustre and boring as hell! I want that more than my two front teeth. (Ed. If one more person asks for this, I’m going to do it and you’ll ALL be sorry…)

One last wish… oh please, Santa baby! I want to be an honorary BiblioBabe. Because they get to display their killer racks while reading and reviewing fine literature. I can’t think of anything more awesome. Maybe you can stuff that in my stocking, Santa… because I’ve been a good girl this year. Just ask Colum.

Ps. If you’d like to have a nude Clive Barker deliver my presents, I have no objections.

Forever yours,

Bree