You’d have to be a writer to understand this, but I really pissed off tonight. I mean really pissed off.
I’ll keep the story short. I wrote a full-length novel, about 120,00 words. I edited each paragraph to perfection. Each character was fully developed. The book has sorrow and humor, and plenty of suspense. I think it’s great. About nine months ago, I submitted the first ten pages to a NYC literary agency. They waited three months to respond, said they really liked it. They said, “Send us another hundred pages.”
Today, months later, I received a standard rejection letter …..
“It’s not right for us, but we are sure someone else ….”
Right. Fuck you. I have had it with NYC agents. What, you want another book like the crapmeisters you see in the supermarket? (“You have to understand, it’s the publishing scene and ….) No.
Screw agents; I’m doing just fine selling my books directly to publishers, and then I don’t have to pay an agent for doing absolutely nothing. These people are lazy leeches utterly unwilling to take the smallest of chances.
I’m in Napa Valley tonight, with a good wine buzz. In about an hour, we’ll head into downtown Napa for a nice meal. It’s been a good day; we took a nice tour of a small winery, free of charge, as my boyfriend knew a relative of the owner.
Have a nice Wednesday night, friends.