Rejection letters

Feel bad when you query an agent about your most illustrious work? Sad they don't appreciate genius when they see it? Feel the whole world is being done a disservice because your wisdom and wit will not be available to them? Depressed and confused because you are beginning to realize your mission to change the history of civilization will never be fulfilled since some ignorant, misguided gate keeper doesn't fall in love with your masterpiece?

This is Hunter S. Thompson's idea for a rejection letter. He didn't actually send it. He gave it to Rolling Stone along with the piles of stuff people had send to him unsolicited. They admitted they used it a few times.


You worthless, acid-sucking piece of illiterate shit! Don’t ever send this kind of brain-damaged swill in here again. If I had the time, I’d come out there and drive a fucking wooden stake into your forehead. Why don’t you get a job, germ? Maybe delivering advertising handouts door to door, or taking tickets for a wax museum. You drab South Bend cocksuckers are all the same; like those dope-addled dingbats at the Rolling Stone office. I’d like to kill those bastards for sending me your piece … and I’d just as soon kill you, too. Jam this morbid drivel up your ass where your readership will better appreciate it.

Courtesy of Futility Closet via Wikimedia

And?

Here is a rejection letter, from an agent that handles women's fiction, that I did not retype.  I deliberately did cut and paste to preserve the quality as  best I could. The quotation marks are my own.


"After having a chance to read this, however, I am afraid I am going to pass on this project. While there were certainly elements of the story that were interesting, and, I just didn't feel the story was right for what I am looking for. The end result is that it just didn't appeal to me as much as I had hoped."



I am, of course, bitter and dissappointed.  Harlequin erotic novels are a biggie for the particular agency that sent this to me, and my sweet little stories don't cut it.  My point is, though, that EVERYWHERE you read about how perfect and concise your query letter MUST be or it won't get a second glance.  And truly, I SO much want to know what the and. . . was going to be.  It sounded like he was on the verge of saying one more positive thing before he shot me down.  But all I get was "and". . .  So, let's let the judges pass judgement on themselves here.  I almost want to include this dude's name in my tags, but ain't gonna happen.

The Totally Mental Aspects of Mental Disorders

I had a pretty nice day yesterday.  Spent some time with Francesca and Delaney.  Brought the Taylor family a great dinner and they even shared a little with me.  Bought three boxes of Good and Plenty.  The price has dropped from a dollar to ninety-eight cents, so I snapped those mothers up.  Ben had an amazing ballgame, hit two doubles, his team winning by two after  falling behind twice.  Then, as I prepared to retire for the night, putting all the daily papers into the recycling, (those suckers pile up so fast) deciding on my sleepy time cocktail of pills for the night, I notice a little white circle glowing against the golden fibers of my deceptively clean-looking dining room area rug.  Picked it up to discover it was a Welbutrin!  Guess that one didn't make it into the mouth that morning. 

I have yet to find a doctor, and I have asked at least six, that can explain the time-release effects, or even the specific meaning of the words to me.  It has always turned out to be a discussion in semantics.  I felt pretty good today, got all that EPA and DMV stuff cleared up with out a hitch and bought some peanut butter cookies, but I had to wonder what missing that pill yesterday meant.  I know when I was taking that crumby, crumbling, smelly, yellow generic, I was in a prolonged semi manic state that in actual fact provided many pleasant side effects, a huge weight loss, a million brilliant words carefully stored on memory sticks, a new attitude about partnership and "marriage", a new sense of me.  So I am almost tempted to try skipping a few more of those pearly white puppies and see what happens.  But I know when it happens I am unable to judge what is happening, whether or not I am enjoying it.  So, bummer.  I skipped a pill.  No big deal.  The whole bipolar thing?  No big deal.  I  guess. . .

Fictionalizing Life

My father was a police officer in a medium-sized, well-known suburb of Chicago,  Illinois.  What the heck--it was Oak Park.  And for part of his long career he was what he used to call "plain-clothes"  which means he was a detective. 

I love to read police and crime and legal procedurals.  I do not ever even contemplate writing that type of story because I do not want to do anything research laden.  Never did.  Specially in school.  But, yet, in every story I have written so far, some element of law enforcement is present.  And then, my husband was in the Navy,and,for many years,our rather interesting social life centered around that universe. (Did you ever have someone that had a crush on you promise to drive his helicopter over your house at a specific time to say Hi to you?  And actually do it?  Kind of flattering  when you are 23. )  Well, that part of my life, of course colorfully enhanced, also appears in my work.  So, I guess it is a part of 'write what you know' or just that it is such a huge piece of my personal history.  (I LOVE my personal history)  But, never the less, I would never endeavor to do a novel with that sort of basic premise as so many are now doing.  There is even a series about the FDIC and when I inquired what they meant by FDIC they explained it was indeed the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, also a part of the history of my marriage.  But there are too many experts out there waiting to pick apart your work and jump all over any errors you may make.  Even though I clearly state that I make stuff up. 

Still, it is too bad I have such a strong mind set against it cuz  I AM A GREAT DETECTIVE.

C,mon, guys.  You know what I'm talkin' about.

Publishing in Today's World.

What do I know?  I know more than a thousand times, someone, somewhere, and in some pretty darn disparate places, has chanced upon or been led to my blog.  I wish I knew if they read it, but the stats only show visitors, and it seems, mostly, they are reluctant to comment.  (Seriously, despite my threats, I will not come after you.)   But, I was thinking about electronic publishing versus the usual query route.  Which I am spending a lot of time doing lately.  Thinking about it and querying.  (C'mon, Dit, just do it.  What do you have to lose?  The people that you write about can't sue you if you have nothing for them to take.  Right?)  And, what I was thinking, and I feel they are thoughts worth considering,is,  if someone commits to downloading your work off Amazon or Borders, or Avon, or Carina, then chances are they will  follow through and read it and maybe comment, and maybe review and maybe spread word of mouth.  I mean, we already know even negative reviews rustle up a spike of interest.

And the querying thing, how they go on and on about how you have to have that hook in your query, a single sentence that is supposed to sell them on your work.  How are they ever going to now how charmingly facetious and whimsical are my darling characters?  How quaintly singular is my style?  How my very naughty creations manage to waltz around the most major moral inconsistencies.  And still be loved and forgiven. 

Michael Connelly is getting so much flak for going along with the price guideline stuff. (Industry standard?)  I wonder if he will fold.  I wonder if he, personally, has anything to say about it or any influence on the outcome.  The industry guideline has already been shown to be way too full of holes and ways to get around it or over it.  You read about Amanda Hocking and you cannot help but be swayed and tempted.  Sure, she signed a contract, but she already made her nut and she was probably happy to hand off just a little of the responsibility.  I don't care about the financial or legal ramifications, so I think I'm going to go back and reread that long, long, article on how to load your work on Kindle and think a little bit more about whether or not it is too complicated.  And whether my Word software can do doc. or only docx. The querying thing is just damn dispiriting.  Especially when you pick up a book that someone already got money for, and it is the same genre as your's and your's is cuter and deeper and naughtier.  Shucks.  I guess if you are not your own best fan, then you shouldn't even be  trying.   Frankly, cover art is my biggest concern.

Patriotism

Tomorrow is Easter.   There was a kind of a cute cartoon in B.C. today about it.  I like when they get the message across and don't labor over it or overdo it or PREACH  or EVANGELIZE.  And it goes over smoothly.  Not like a clunk on the head.  And when you see subtle stuff like that, you kind of feel good, like you know what you know and you believe what you believe and it is cool.   A while back  I got all over someone and said they didn't need to worry about my soul cuz God gets me, and we are buds.  I am comfortable with that and I think people who think I am irreverant need to take some special kind of yoga class that teaches you how to unpucker your asshole.

So, somehow, I got linked to this rather erudite website, mises(dot)org.  I think it was some economic revelation that Louie sent to me.  (It is a website espousing the Austrian school of economics and I was able to get info from the resident economics major on why Keynesian won out even when it shouldn't have.  Politics and stuff. ) He always feels he needs to lend me some ammo when one of my intellectually superior friends takes aim at my simplistic way of thinking.  It is really kind of sweet of him.  Actually, I would have to say it is generous of him, and I can do that and suppress, at the very same time, my feelings that my intellect is just fine, thanks.    Anyway, the totally coolest thing about mises(dot)org is that it showers my blog stats with hits, and I think it is just great that all these people who get all philosophical about economics read my words.  I mean, not to be a reverse snob, but some of the stuff they write is right on.  And I really enjoy it and they go off on a bunch of tangents like movie reviews and it kinda gets you thinking there is a kind of a network that is holding us all together and it feels good to get a glimpse of it every now and then.  Humanity, maybe?

So, they were going on about outlawing certain chemicals and how it is counter productive and stuff, which we all know is true, and it was so spot on and enjoyable and some freak from some OTHER country (mises(dot)org if you want to look), starts in about whoa is this wonderful America you are talking about and goes on about how fucked up our country is.  Yeah?  I didn't take my daughter to the shaman for circumcision, did you? So, I got in a rant, oh, God, how I love that, with only one typo, but I used a vulgar word that I have not seen on there, which you have already seen maybe three times just in this episode, so I am a little afraid they may not print it, but I will go back and check, and I will feel powerful when I see it in print and I will feel validated when I see the spike in my stats.  I actually had forty hits from freaking GERMANY one day.  God, what fun.

I guess I have to search a little further and wider for the ego strokes nowadays, a subject I touch on  in my book, THE DEVIL'S STEPCHILD which is not yet in print, but hold on guys.  Soon.

So Happy Easter, Happy Spring, Happy Happy EVERYTHING.  No.  I only had one beer and no xanax and that was a couple of hours ago.