Literary agents and publishers receive so many queries and submissions from writers these days, most have stopped sending out even the shortest, most impersonal written rejection notices. Before lucking out and finding a publisher for my debut novel back in 2011, I considered a formal rejection letter to be a significant victory. To not be fully ignored by the literary “powers that be” is positively enthralling and life affirming, especially in today’s ridiculously competitive publishing environment. Knowing that an agent or publisher cares enough to take the time to inform you personally that there is no way in hell they’ll be requesting additional pages or accepting your novel is certainly cause for celebration.
To help other writers in their endeavor to get properly rejected, I’m providing the “Request for a Formal Rejection Letter” I used to (pretend) to send out to literary agents. Writers who use this (or some similar) letter will soon find their mailbox and/or inbox full of “thank you, but no” notifications from some of the most important people in the publishing world.
Dear (name of literary agent or publisher),
I am contacting you today to see if you might consider my manuscript worthy of a formal rejection.
I realize that hundreds upon hundreds of unsolicited works come across your desk or enter your inbox each month, and that you couldn’t possibly take the time to provide each author with an official rejection notice. However, I think once you read the clever title and first two finely crafted sentences of my tragicomic novel before tossing the manuscript into the bin, you will agree that my work cannot be completely overlooked and indeed deserves to be spurned in writing.
Naturally, my dream is that my literary prowess will compel you – or at least the intern who brings you coffee – to send me a personalized rejection note that includes the full title of my book. However, I realize that such an honor is typically reserved only for writers on their second or third novel and suicide attempt. Therefore, I would be more than happy to simply receive from you a standard form rejection letter printed out crookedly on the thinnest office paper available.
I will fully understand if you decide to pretend that you never received this query letter and submission. I can only imagine how busy you must be helping aspiring novelists develop severe self-esteem issues and question the meaning of their existence. If you feel strongly that my work does not merit a single iota of your attention – let alone a full rejection notice – all I ask is that you at least not intentionally spit or excrete on my manuscript prior to incinerating it. At the risk of sounding pompous, I do think I deserve that much respect.
Thank you very much in advance for your time and attention, and for not hiring an assassin to ensure that I never submit any of my literary work to you again.
Like every other white author in his mid-forties, I frequently feel compelled to rap. I used to do it live for friends and acquaintances – at parties, weddings, funerals, the supermarket – but I decided to stop after they all got together and begged me to during a recent intervention.
They never said anything about rapping in written form, though, so I’m assuming it’s allowed. (I got away with it in a previous blog post, anyway.)
And with that, I bring you my latest literary hip-hop concoction – a rap that Eminem himself likely would have written had he developed the same love of reading as he did for homophobia and misogyny.
“Without Reads”(to the tune of Eminem’s hit rap song, “Without Me”)
I’m as mad as a monster cause nobody wants to read novels no more; they want TV, no hard fiction You hate novels? Well, that’s gonna spark friction I came here to rhyme, I didn’t come here to start bitchin’
A plot has got to get my eyes popping like a shock by a doctor when my heart’s stopping Cause I’m not really much for cooperating with an author who plot’s not intoxicating
It’s taking too long, so stop debating ‘Fifty Shades’ isn’t shocking, it’s copulating I know that you’re filthy rich, Ms. James But Anaïs Nin puts your “lit” to shame
So now let’s just see who next to read Selecting what’s next perplexes me I thought about the latest novel by Palahniuk It may not be his greatest novel – I still want it
So, go get a book for your Kobo or Nook, or your Kindle I don’t give a damn just go, look Maybe even pay for a paperback Nothing’s the same as some paper, Jack!
Now this looks like a book for me So everybody, this book I need Cause I need a little escape, you see Life would be so empty without reads
I said this looks like a book for me So everybody, this book I need Cause I need a little escape, you see Life would be so empty without reads
These illiterates, not reading even a little bit Watching “Game of Thrones” and ignoring their little kids Children start feeling like reading is worthless These kids’ imagination pretty soon won’t be worth sh*t
We literary people are scary Remaining immune to what’s polluting the airwaves We’re rebels, so let me just revel and bask in the fact that I am reading with a cat in my lap
It’s a disaster, such a catastrophe for me to see nobody reading, just attached to screens It’s enough for me to write a freaking rap and scream Now let me hear you clapping – are you backing me?
“Testing, attention please” Feel expansion the second that you get to read Here’s my ten cents, my two cents you took A nuisance, who sent, you sent for books?
Now this looks like a book for me So everybody, this book I need Cause I need a little escape, you see Life would be so empty without reads
I said this looks like a book for me So everybody, this book I need Cause I need a little escape, you see Life would be so empty without reads
Note: If you, like me, are dying to hear me perform this rap live, feel free to take me out for drinks. You won’t even have to make a request – after my third whiskey, the rapping will just happen naturally.
Far be it from me to tell anyone what to read or what not to read. I would never do that. But my edgy alter ego, Ridley, would. (Ridley gets me punched a lot.)
Below is a list of what I… I mean Ridley... believes are better alternatives to several popular and classic books.
(Warning:Literary – and literal – sacrilege ahead.)
READHam on Rye, NOT The Catcher in the Rye. When it comes to the classic male coming-of-age novel, most sane people think J.D. Salinger, not Charles Bukowski. But sanity shouldn’t factor in when talking about males coming of age. Bukowski’s Ham on Rye does a better job than The Catcher in the Rye of capturing the angst, isolation and hormonal madness of a teen boy trying to make his way in the world. I mean, wouldn’t you rather read about a gritty kid coming of age in Los Angeles during the Great Depression than about a pompous rich kid whining about his charmed life while playing hooky from prep school?
READ Hope: A Tragedy, NOT Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl.Perhaps this one is more of a “read this AFTER that,” as who in their right mind would ever diss Ms. Frank’s legendary diary. Hope: A Tragedy, however, is definitely the funnier of the two books, and we could all use a few laughs these days. It’s a fictional tale about how Anne Frank secretly survived the Holocaust and is living in the attic of a modern-day family’s farmhouse in rural New York. The book is as touching as it is uproarious and irreverent, and, unlike The Diary of a Young Girl, it does not require the reader to have an entire case of Kleenex or any Zoloft on hand when they get to the end.
READ The Golden or The Shake or Enter, Night or Blood Vice, NOT Twilight. Some people might think that the Twilight books have been picked on enough on this blog over the past year, but those people would be incorrect. If you’re looking for a vampire book truly worthy of the paper it’s printed on (or the Kindle it’s being read on), you can’t go wrong with any of the Twilight alternatives listed above. You may have never heard of them, but trust me, each features exquisite writing and compelling storytelling. And yes, plenty of delicious, nutritious blood.
READ the back of a cereal box, NOT Fifty Shades of Grey. No, I’m not some sexual deviant who gets aroused by what I read on the back of cereal boxes… well, except for Grape-Nuts of course. And if you are really paying attention, you shouldn’t get aroused by what you read in Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s not that I have anything personal against author E.L. James; it’s that I have something personal against really poorly devised erotica – and all of the houses, cars and islands Ms. James is now able to buy because of it.
READ any Chuck Palahniuk novel, though NOT without consulting a physician first. Palahniuk’s work is a big reason why I became a fiction writer – that and the fact that I’m virtually unhireable. He is the master of darkly comedic transgressive fiction, and his stories cause just enough brain damage to make you interesting and compel you to never pick up a copy of Twilight or 50 Shades of Grey again. There have been reports of audience members passing out during his public readings, so if you have a weak heart or were raised in the Midwest, ask your doctor if she/he thinks it’s safe for you to read a Palahniuk novel. If she/he says no, find a new doctor.
READ The Old Testament, NOT The New Testament. While neither of these books is a beach read, at least all the sinners who are murdered and massacred in the Old Testament no longer have to fear the wrath of God once they’re dead and buried. That book’s God is perfectly content just to have them out of the picture. In the New Testament, however, God’s hell-bent on bringing the pain to sinners for all eternity. Death isn’t the end, it’s God just getting warmed up. It’s all a bit heavy handed. I appreciate the authors’ (note the plural possessive) intention, but a mere mortal reader can handle only so much violence and damnation. Never mind the success of Game of Thrones. READ Notes on an Orange Burial, NOT A Confederacy of Dunces. Don’t get me wrong, I loved A Confederacy of Dunces, it’s just that my lame alter ego, Greg, doesn’t get any royalties whenever somebody buys a copy of it. Notes on an Orange Burial, on the other hand, was Greg’s debut novel, and has drawn comparisons to Dunces from numerous readers – some of whom Greg didn’t even ask, “Doesn’t my book remind you a little of A Confederacy of Dunces?” READ The Exit Man, NOT whatever you're reading now. C’mon, you had to have seen that one coming.
For those of you who were upset and/or angered by my… I mean RIDLEY’S post, fear not – this was the last time he’ll be guest-blogging here. My new medication seems to be working.
I’d like to think I’m a courageous man, but let’s face it, I’m a fiction writer. I lie, fabricate and embellish for a living. All while sitting at home in my pajamas.
And still I’m afraid. Despite spending most of my time with imaginary people over whom I have complete and utter control, I live in constant fear. Of what, you ask? I’m scared to say, but only a real ass would bring it up in a blog and then not elaborate.
So, without further unnecessary buildup, following are my biggest fears as an author:
Opening one of my novels after it's been published. Few things are more frightening than spotting a typo in a book you’ve put out into the world and that dozens of friends and family members might actually read.
Having only my mother show up to a book signing. Thank goodness this has never happened to me. My father, wife and daughter were there, too.
Losing a hand. I’ve tried typing one-handed before, as well using a speech-to-text device, but both methods resulted in text that was about as readable as a book by Stephenie Meyer.
Succumbing to the temptation to write what people want to read rather than the story stuck in my soul. I’m terrified of compromising my artistic principles for fame and money. Oh, how I wish a zombie apocalypse was stuck in my soul.
Having a cat ruin my manuscript. With two cats very fond of laptops, and a writing office with no real doors, this is a daily threat in my house. Plus, both cats are dicks.
Meeting Chuck Palahniuk at an event and accidentally talking about Fight Club. The first rule of meeting Chuck Palahniuk at an event is you don’t talk about Fight Club. But I have some pressing questions for him I don’t think I’d be able to stifle.
Not realizing one of my nipples is showing in a bio photo. Yeah, I know, revealing a nipple would likely only help book sales, but still.
Accidentally thanking cancer during my acceptance speech for a book award. Terminal illness turns my protagonist into a hero in my latest novel and the one I’m currently writing. If I were to win a major award for either book, I can’t promise in all the excitement I wouldn’t sing the praises of adenocarcinoma or the like.
Getting killed by a character from one of my abandoned manuscripts. Oh, you don’t think a fictional being from an unfinished book could come to life and seek revenge on the writer? That’s because you’re sane, you lucky bastard.
Going to hell and finding out I must spend all eternity writing book synopses. This one is too horrifying to even elaborate on. Having one of my novels made into a movie by the same guy who directed the 1995 rendition of The Scarlet Letter. Demi Moore is fine on a stripper pole or in the Marines, but for the love of literature please keep her out of my book’s adaptation.
Finding out I have only three months to live when I’m six months away from completing a manuscript. I hate feeling rushed when I write. Also, I hate not having a say in cover art. Thus, this one would be a little scarier than some of the others.
Having my teenage daughter tell me she wants to be an author. After paying what will turn out to be a king’s ransom for her education, I’m petrified my daughter will take after me and make an exerted effort to be poor. To help fend against this, whenever I catch her reading a book or writing in her room, I tell her to knock it off and get back to Instagram or Netflix.
Having my teenage daughter’s books outsell mine. Like any father, I want my daughter to succeed. However, like any author, I secretly want all other authors to fail and go into real estate. In my daughter’s case, I’d want her to fail and go into reality TV or Oregon marijuana sales – you know, where the money is.
Writers do not feel at home in cars, unless they happen to live in theirs, which is true for only about thirty percent of writers. When a writer is in a car (that they don’t live in), it means they are not at home or at the cafe or in the mental institution doing what they do best. Time spent driving is time away from creating.
Writers in cars are also dangerous, as the vast majority spend their time thinking about their current book or coming up with an idea for another rather than paying attention to other vehicles, traffic lights, pedestrians or oceans. Studies show that 78 percent of all traffic fatalities are caused by daydreaming authors.
To help writers express themselves while driving, as well as to alert other drivers that a vehicle in front of them contains a writer, I’ve come up with 25 bumper stickers specifically for men and women of letters:
1) Driver makes frequent plot twists.
2) Honk if you hate missppelings.
3) Cut me off and get killed in my next novel.
4) Crazy on board.
5) Your kid’s an honor student? Big deal – let me know when he finishes a manuscript.
6) If you can read this, you’re too close… but at least you can read. Buy my book.
7) The whales are fine – save the poets.
8) Write the book you want to read in the world.
9) Forget my driving – how’s my writing?
10) Jesus reads!
11) I brake for muses.
12) My other car is ALSO a piece of shit – I’m a writer.
13) What would Cormac do?
14) If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention… or you’ve never read any of the Twilight books.
15) Driver has write of way.
16) Stop honking! I’m trying to come up with a title.
17) I’d rather be signing books.
18) Character development in progress.
19) You’re driving behind me because I wrote it that way.
20) Objects in mirror may be more fictional than they appear.
21) Guns don’t kill people, crime writers do.
22) Don’t text and drive – unless you're finishing up a chapter.
23) Stay off my ass and you’ll stay out of my book.
24) Yeah, I passed you – you drive like my novel sells.
And this last one is to help subliminally sell my latest novel: 25) Are you sure you didn’t miss the exit, man?
While I’m busy turning the above statements into large adhesive stickers, feel free to share some of your own writer bumper sticker ideas in the comments section below.
