When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
Once when I was at a writer’s conference, on an agent’s panel, a participant asked how we chose which editors to send our projects to. My answer seemed cheeky: lunch. But it’s the accumulation of hundreds of lunch dates over many years when you sit down with editors and find out who they are, what they like, what makes them tick. Pairing a project with an editor is a lot like fixing up two people on a blind date. Sometimes you put them together for superficial reasons: she’s from Maine! He’s from Maine! She’s an athlete! He used to coach! She’s a foodie! He’s a gourmand! Sometimes it’s more nuanced. You know an editor loves a certain literary style or author, and you feel your client’s work has those qualities. Sometimes, the subject matter links up with an editor’s taste. But how you know all this, for the most part, is lunch.
Sushi?
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Betsy Lerner 
Feed me and I’m yours forever.
hummus?
It makes perfect sense to me. Relationships do matter, and knowing or understanding someone’s likes/dislikes is a step forward. Having the chance to connect on a personal level (what better way than over food?) is another step. It’s all about timing and knowing folks. I’ve always loved the idea of this sort of meeting between agent/editor.
The only thing more powerful than knowledge is a meal. Taste buds win over synapses every time.
Glad to know the 3 martini lunch has, finally, been upstaged by Food. Although, back in my corporate office days, some of the post-lunch drama (fueled by those adult beverages) could be very entertaining to the staff relegated to the lunch room.