Monday, October 29, 2007
Those Finicky Literary Agents
Where do I even begin? It always amazes me how one agent after another will always say, well, you know, good stuff but, this project is not for us. (Who said your stuff was good?) I understand they have an image to live up to within the industry and a roster of special clients with a particular "brand" of books, but would it hurt to guide one in the right direction? (Of course, they don't have time for you, unless you pay them. Get it?) Never mind all the clues they try to give you about what they like and what they are currently looking for. Forget it. It's never "just right" for them. It's such a crap shoot. But who cares, you just keep trying until one day you Query an agent and they get right back to you and say. "Damn, this is just what I've been looking for, sign here, you've got a deal." (Dream on brother, dream on with that one.) They've got to see GRANDE dollar signs folks. Isn't it always about those damn Benjamin's? (Those guys are too much, aren't they?)
QuipRant! (kwip-rant) Snappy self-depricating commentary.
Anyway, that's part of my stupid little rant about agents. Honestly, I'd rather self-publish if I could afford all the promotion and advertising costs. (Who do you think you are David Ogilvy?) Wouldn't it be nice to tell certain publishers what they can do with their paltry 5 to 10%? (It's the market stupid.) That way I would have total control over everything. (You can't even control your urge for chocolate.) Lord only knows what they'll do to my book covers, (make them commercially viable so the junk you flung between them will sell) if they're ever intersted in it to begin with. I mean for crying out loud, what's an author to do? (Learn your damn craft, moron.) Can't they see how brilliant my writing really is? (You call that writing?) And what a sizzling "High Concept" I developed? (You wouldn't know a high concept if it bit you in the face, dumb-ass) After all, I have the perfect plot, the perfect premise and amazing characters that leap off the page! (Who the fun;*%k! cares, have you checked the recent reader polls? The current flavor of the month is not yours, dipstick. Try again, but not with us.) After all, I'm destined to become America's next great novelist. (Not if we can help it.) But if I never make it, no problem, I can always go back to selling cars. (No thanks, just bought one, and not from you, LOSER!) Ahh, think positive. It's only a matter of time. (Forget you! You're out of time.) Let's see, Once upon a time...