I know what you’re all thinking: “Really, Greg, you’re going to co-opt a beloved Christmas song and turn it into an anthem that celebrates criminal activity—all just to help promote the types of books you write?”
In my defense, YES.
Okay, maybe not all of you are thinking what I’ve assumed above. My parents, for instance, are probably thinking, “Greg, what the hell are you even doing with a beloved Christmas song? We’re Jewish!”
I guess the point I’m trying to make is, enjoy!
Here’s my version of The Twelve Days of Christmas—with a heavy twist of crime fiction added in for good measure:
On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
An hour every day to just read.
On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read.
On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Three dead bodies
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Four red herrings
Three dead bodies
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Fiiiiive anti-heroes
Four red herrings
Three dead bodies
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read.
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Six snitches snitching
Fiiiiive anti-heroes
Four red herrings
Three dead bodies
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read.
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Seven villains killing
Six snitches snitching
Fiiiiive anti-heroes
Four red herrings
Three dead bodies
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Eight perps escaping
Seven villains killing
Six snitches snitching
Fiiiiive anti-heroes
Four red herrings
Three dead bodies
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Nine narrators lying
Eight perps escaping
Seven villains killing
Six snitches snitching
Fiiiiive anti-heroes
Four red herrings
Three dead bodies
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read.
On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Ten gangs uniting
Nine narrators lying
Eight perps escaping
Seven villains killing
Six snitches snitching
Fiiiiive anti-heroes
Four red herrings
Three dead bodies
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Eleven PIs peeping
Ten gangs uniting
Nine narrators lying
Eight perps escaping
Seven villains killing
Six snitches snitching
Fiiiiive anti-heroes
Four red herrings
Three dead bodies
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Twelve cases closing
Eleven PIs peeping
Ten gangs uniting
Nine narrators lying
Eight perps escaping
Seven villains killing
Six snitches snitching
Fiiiiive anti-heroes
Four red herrings
Three dead bodies
Two alibis
And an hour every day to just read!!!
There, see—that wasn’t so bad or disrespectful or inappropriate or sacrilegious or blasphemous, right?
My novels explore some really dark stuff. Stuff like terminal illness, voluntary euthanasia, serial killing, sex trafficking, drug addiction, dementia. Yes, I have sought professional help. No, it hasn't stopped me from tackling such grim topics. And here’s the thing: When reviewing a novel of mine—whether the book is about a terminally ill man who kills people, or about a man who kills terminally ill people, or about a man who pretends to be a pedophile to catch sex traffickers—most readers mention they found the book funny. Many say they laughed a lot. Some say they peed a little.
Those of you who’ve never read any of my books (and I know who you are—I’m making a list, checking it twice) may be thinking, “What kind of sociopath writes books that make light of such horrific topics and issues? And what kind of sociopaths read such books and laugh enough to need an adult diaper?”
First of all, go easy on my readers—they’re good people. Secondly, allow me to explain:
I don’t make light of people dying or killing. I don’t make light of cancer or the people suffering from it. I don’t make light of sex trafficking or drug addiction or dementia. What I do (or try to, at least) is show how humans—when stuck in the darkest of spaces—will scratch and claw at the walls until even the tiniest speck of light breaks through. Humor is a natural survival mechanism, sonaturally I try to weave some into books about people facing serious adversity. My aim isn't for readers to laugh at the darkness but rather to laugh in it. I never try to force “the funny” (like I sometimes do on my blog or when trying to embarrass my daughter in public). Instead I try to use the funny to appropriately juxtapose the frightening and the fierce.
If you were to ask me what I’m most proud of in my writing career, I’d make no mention of awards or Hollywood options or major book deals (especially not that last one, since I’ve never had a major book deal.) What I’m most proud of are the times when readers—particularly those who’ve personally experienced the same/similar tragedy or peril featured in a book of mine—reach out to say they appreciated how the book’s humor elevated the story rather than detracted from it. How it elicited laughter without disrespecting the dire straits the characters faced. As a writer, there’s only one thing more rewarding than hearing that a reader “got” exactly what you were going for: Hearing that what you were going for made a lasting impact on a reader and helped to ease their suffering, relieve their grief, make their day (or even just their hour or minute).
That’s what novels by the likes of Chuck Palahniuk, Kurt Vonnegut, Elmore Leonard and Sara Gran do for me. Such books break my heart while making me bust a gut. They show humanity at its worst yet somehow manage to restore my faith in it. They cause me to cringe and clench and cheer and laugh in equal measure. A few other authors who effectively pepper their powerful, gritty fiction with humor are Joe Clifford, Rachel Howzell Hall, Nico Walker, and Will Christopher Baer.
If you look at the reviews for any of my novels, you’ll see plenty of readers starting off with something like, “I didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself into with this book” or “I was a little nervous about cracking this one open,” but what soon follows is usually something like, “I couldn’t believe I was laughing along with and rooting for these characters” or “Hilarious and delightful, though also heart-wrenching.” (For a perfect example of such a review, click HERE.)
I love receiving reviews like those. Not because they’re positive and full of praise (though sure, that’s nice, too); rather because I love it when readers take a chance on books with topics that worry or rattle or frighten them—books they fear may cross the line or trigger painful emotions or memories. And I love it even more when those readers, after diving into such books, walk away rewarded for their risk—feeling not only entertained but also touched and moved. Perhaps even inspired.
Just like how I feel every time I discover a novel that dares to laugh in the dark.
How about you? Have you ever bought or borrowed a book you thought might scar you for life but that ended up moving you to tears and laughter? I’d love to hear about it—please share in the comments section below.
I don’t know what's gotten into me lately. Something's wrong—I’ve been experiencing an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Sure, there are worse things than gratitude to come along and suddenly start ruling your life, but for someone who’s been sarcastic and cynical and annoying since birth, becoming immensely grateful out of the blue can be a real shock to the system.
Imagine waking up one morning and instead of your first thought being, “I wonder how the universe is going to punk me today” or “People who change lanes without signaling should be executed,” it’s more along the lines of “Being alive is a wondrous gift!” or “Hugs aren’t so bad!” Honestly, I don’t even know who I am anymore. Oddly enough, my family and friends hope my existential crisis continues.
Maybe it's because Thanksgiving's right around the corner. Maybe it’s the meditation I’ve been doing daily. Or my long walks through the woods behind my house. Or the strange magical powder made from a Southeast Asian plant I recently started ingesting to help with my anxiety. (Don’t worry, it’s legal—the powder I mean, not my anxiety.) All I know for sure is I’m more grateful than ever.
While I hope this whole gratitude thing doesn’t hinder my ability to write dark, disturbing novels, I can't help but mention the people and things I'm most grateful for with regard to my fictional—er, I mean fiction—career.
Readers/followers/subscribers. People have extremely busy lives. There are so many other things they must do and could be doing that don’t involve reading a single word I write. So whenever someone lets me in—even if it’s through the tiniest sliver and for only a few minutes here and there, I don’t take it for granted.
I realize “readers/followers/subscribers” is a bit of a clunky term to be used by someone who is supposed to be good with words, but I’m not yet comfortable using the term “fans”—mainly because I once used that term when referring to a friend who has read all my books, and she said, “Fan? Don’t get carried away, Greg.” I’m actually glad she said it. I am. No, really, I’m grateful to her for keeping my ego in check, even if I’ve yet to fully recover from that crushing blow.
My Launch Team. For those of you who don’t know what a launch team is, you must not love my writing enough to be on mine. A launch team is a group of people who not only enjoy reading an author’s work, they're also are eager to help spread the word about each new book that author puts out so that many other people can enjoy reading the author’s work. And man, I can’t tell you how grateful I am to the dozens of people on my Launch Team. I’m especially grateful that none of them jumped ship when I ended up not launching my upcoming novel (Into a Corner) when I said I was going to—even though many of them had already taken the time to read an advanced reader copy (ARC) of the book and prepared an early review to help build buzz around it.
As somebody with minimal patience, I don’t deserve much of it in return. So, to each member of my Launch Team (and you know who you are, seeing as how you’ve received plenty of weird emails from me in recent months)—a huge THANK YOU for all of your continued support, encouragement, and enthusiasm around my writing efforts. And don’t worry, Into a Corner will (almost) definitely be published in 2020. (2021 at the latest.)
Kind, generous colleagues in the writing community.Emphasis on “community.” This year—more than any other in my writing career—I’ve had the great privilege of meeting and gaining invaluable insight and support from a whole host of authors who write the same kinds of books I write but who have sold many more copies. Some of these authors I’ve met only virtually; others in person. All of them, however, have been extremely generous with their time and, more importantly, their assistance in putting me on a path toward literary fame and fortune. (Mind you, it’s a long and crooked path inhabited by giant scorpions, plus I keep misplacing my compass.)
The internet. I met my wife through it. I found my cats through it. Most importantly, I learned the absolute best way to dispose of a dead body through it.
As instrumental as the internet has been in my real life, it’s been positively indispensable to me with regard to my writing life. Were it not for the worldwide web and its dark second cousins, I wouldn’t have a fraction of the readers/followers/subscribers I have, wouldn’t be able to work in just my underwear most days, and wouldn’t be a subject matter expert on such fun topics as euthanasia, sex trafficking, poison, or minimizing your carbon footprint when you murder someone. It has truly made me a better person.
My agent (on the TV side). I still don’t really know how I lucked into getting a TV/film agent at CAA a few years ago, but I’m not here to over-think things—I’m here to express how freakin’ grateful I am that my agent’s on the brink of sealing yet another option deal with a major TV studio/network for my novel The Exit Man. (Sorry, can’t disclose the studio’s name yet.) I’ve been here before—with HBO in 2015, and with Showtime in 2017—unfortunately neither of those option deals resulted in a TV show. Here’s hoping the third time’s a charm. Regardless, it’s an absolute honor just to have one of my books be in the position for a TV adaptation to happen.
(Some of you may have noticed I didn’t mention my literary agent here. It’s not because I’m ungrateful to my literary agent; it’s because I don’t have one. Yet. Working on it, and it’s not as easy as you might think. Well, either that, or my books aren’t good enough for NYC despite being good enough for Hollywood—which is sort of the writing-world equivalent of telling an actor they have a face for radio.)
My physical and mental health. Not a day goes by where I don’t thank my brain and body for continuing to allow me to write novels. You’d be surprised how taxing it can be to sit on your ass and make stuff up. Seriously, it takes a lot of back and wrist and finger muscles to keep words flowing onto a screen day after day for hours on end. And it takes a lot of brain muscles to ensure that the words flowing onto the screen make some semblance of sense and tell a story that doesn’t suck. Oh, and don’t even get me started on how many heart and mind and gut muscles it takes to deal with all the rejection and sales slumps—not to mention all the demands of imaginary people.
So yeah, I’m super-grateful for my physical and mental/emotional) health. That’s why I exercise and meditate every day, and why I limit my use of alcohol and drugs to when I’m awake.
My wife and daughter’s support and patience.This isn’t the first time I’ve used this blog to express how grateful I am to my wife and daughter for not having left me or murdered me or worse. And it won’t be the last, as I would very much like to stay married and loved and alive. Living with any fiction writer isn’t easy. Living with an HSP (Highly Sensitive Person) fiction writer like me is next to impossible. (“Would you people three rooms over please stop breathing so much—I’m trying to write a novel in here!”) Think I’m exaggerating? I once yelled at my daughter for feeding the cats too loudly while I was busy trying to dispose of an imaginary body.
The hell that writers like me put our characters through is a warm bubble bath compared to the hell we put our loved ones through. Because the hell we put our loved ones through is real, despite the fact that we do it in the name of fiction. Fiction that in most cases relatively few people will read. Fiction that rarely pays the bills—or even a bill. Fiction that … is fiction.
So, if you’re a writer who lives with other people, and you’re still married and loved and alive, you’d better thank whatever god or gods you believe in. Thank heaven. Thank your lucky stars. And, most importantly, thank those people—the ones three rooms over who are breathing too much and feeding the cats too loudly and putting up with your crazy bullshit but still letting you write since they know how big a part of you it is. Thank them right now. Thank them tomorrow. Thank them every damn day. Because even if you never sell a single copy of whatever you’re working on, you, my friend, have hit the jackpot.
Just like I have.
Your turn. Feel free to share what you're most grateful for—either as a writer or as a normal human being.
Oh, and Happy early Thanksgiving for those who celebrate it!
Fiction writers (me included) often complain to one another about how not enough people are reading their novels or their blog posts or their blog posts about their novels. They whine about how, despite working so hard to create gripping plots filled with compelling characters and twists, the vast majority of people—friends and relatives included—aren’t willing to fork over a few bucks to buy their books.
Well, I’m here today to complain about all the complaining. And not because I’m above it. I’ve certainly done my fair share of complaining about not having enough readers or book sales. But I recently saw the light—well, caught a glimpse of it, anyway—and what I realized is:
Nobody owes me (or any other writer) anything.
No matter how much time or work or creative energy has been put into a book—or even how good a book may be—no writer is entitled to readers.
This is hard for most writers to accept. It was hard for me to accept. And even after accepting it, it’s hard to remember.
I, personally, spend so much time holed up in my writing office, creating and placing so much importance on my fiction, I sometimes forget something much more important: getting REAL.
I don’t mean I need to stop dreaming or that I need to be more realistic (“Hey, writer-boy, get a REAL job.”). What I’m saying is I—and a lot of other writers—need to be more authentic. Specifically, we need to be more authentic in our interactions with other people when we are not writing.
It’s funny (and sad) how so many of us writers find it hard to understand why all the friends and relatives we avoid and ignore for months while working on a novel don’t all rush to buy it when it launches. Also, how upset we get when our writer colleagues don’t all help to promote our latest book even though we didn’t help to promote their latest book when it launched.
Again, it’s not that we’re total a-holes; it’s that most of us have a blind spot when it comes to these sorts of things. Perhaps tunnel vision is a more apt term here. Writing a novel takes a lot of time and requires a ton of focus. Thus it’s easy to become so engrossed in the creative process, you lose sight of the people you’re writing for—as well as the people who’ve helped make it possible for you to write in the first place.
I’m just now starting to “get” all of this, and thus am certainly no expert on the topic. But that’s not going to stop me from pretending to be an expert and listing a few best practices for other writers to embrace.
Following are some effective ways writers—particularly writers of fiction—can “get real” and, in effect, grow their readership organically:
1) Share honest posts about your writing life. Readers tend to be curious about what it’s like to be a writer, and your fellow writers tend to be curious about how sane they are compared to you. Thus, it’s a good idea to occasionally share about your writing process, what you’re working on, what challenges you face, how often you cry over rejections and dismal sales, how often you self-medicate to stop crying over rejections and dismal sales.
As you’ve (hopefully) noticed, I like to infuse my blog posts, Facebook posts, and tweets with humor; however, my most “popular” shares—those that engage the most readers—are the ones in which I’m frank and honest about my shortcomings and fears and failures as an author. Shares where I allow myself to be vulnerable. Those are the types of posts everyone—writers and non-writers alike—can relate to. Because we’re all human, and all humans fall short in some way or another. But especially humans who write.
2) Share honest posts and blogs about your life outside of writing.As interested as readers may be in your writing life, it’s important for them to know you’re not some sociopath who spends all day, every day, holed up in a small room using your own blood to scrawl sentences onto parchment. (Unless you’re a horror writer, in which case it’s not only okay, it’s expected.) To truly connect with readers, you’ll want to show or at least give the impression that you’re a well-balanced individual who has other cool hobbies, like cooking or taxidermy. Readers will also want to know about your family and friends. If you don’t have any friends, share about your pets. If you don’t have any pets, share about your taxidermy.
3) Interact with readers—and potential readers.Sharing posts about your writing and non-writing life is great and all, but being a writer isn’t all about YOU. Your blog, Facebook page, Twitter profile and Instagram account shouldn’t be one-way streets where only you can drive. If you’re doing things right and posting interesting thoughts, information, and excerpts, folks are going to be inspired to comment on those posts—and you’re going to want to reply to those comments. Mind you, merely replying to every comment with, “Thanks—be sure to buy my books!” is not interacting; it’s shouting. And it’s annoying. By taking the time to openly engage with people who’ve taken the time to look at and comment on your posts, you can cultivate relationships that last a lifetime, or at least until your next book comes out.
The same holds true for in-person events like bookstore readings and book conferences. If readers meet you and think you’re a snob or a jackass, they won’t buy your books—and may tell others not to either. They also might punch you, or break your fingers so you can’t write. And if they meet you (and you’re a jackass to them) after they’ve already bought/read your book(s), they may write a scathing review in which they tell the entire world your writing sucks—and that you have a weak jaw and fingers.
4) Form alliances and collaborate with other writers.Writing is a solitary endeavor, but writers are a community. And every writer who actively participates in that community not only stands to gain invaluable insights and create lasting Twitter friendships, they stand to expand their potential readership exponentially. Let’s say you’re an author of crime thrillers with a thousand active newsletter subscribers. That’s a thousand people who likely will be interested in your new novel—seventeen of whom will actually buy it. But if you form an alliance with and help support the efforts of fifty similar authors who have a similar number of followers, that gives you fifty thousand more people who likely will be interested in your new novel—forty-one of whom will actually buy it. (I know, novel-math is a little disappointing.)
Forming an author alliance doesn’t require any blood rituals or selling of souls. (Unless, again, you’re a horror writer.) It merely requires you to do what any decent author person should already want to do—help build buzz about your genre and the writers who help make that genre great. This may include re-tweeting or sharing posts about colleagues’ achievements and book launches, participating in joint-giveaways with fellow authors in your genre, posting interviews with other authors on your blog, and doing newsletter swaps with likeminded authors—or, even better, getting likeminded authors drunk at conferences and stealing their email subscriber list.
BONUS TIP: Another great way to gain access to the vast readership of other writers is to pick a mega-famous author in your genre and marry their son or daughter.
5) Support local libraries and bookstores. The only thing dumber than alienating readers and then getting upset when they don’t buy your books is alienating local libraries and bookstores and then getting upset when they don’t carry your books or allow you to hold an event in their space.
And trust me, you can’t just fake your support of local libraries and bookstores. The people who work in these places are smart; they’ll know if you’re being nice to or helping to spreading the word about them only so they’ll carry your upcoming novel and/or let you do a reading. They’re going to want to see year-round love and support—so visit often, buy/borrow lots of books, bring friends, even go there to write sometimes. At the very least, occasionally bring treats for the resident cat.
6)Realize that doing all of these thing STILLdoesn’t entitle you to more readers. Embracing and taking action around all of the “best practices” I’ve listed above certainly enhances the chances of you getting more people to read your work and buy your books, but it in no way guarantees it. If it did, then embracing such tactics wouldn’t actually be authentic—it would simply be a strategic ploy.
Embrace these tactics not because doing so will help you sell more books; embrace them because doing so will make you a better person. A real person. A human being rather than just a human writing.
Those of you who aren’t writers (you lucky bastards) may not be familiar with what a query letter is (you lucky bastards). And those of you who are writers probably aren’t even reading this post right now because you got triggered by the words “Query Letter” in the title and ran off to break things.
In essence, a query letter is the first step a writer must take to get rejected … er, I mean to get their manuscript published by a traditional book publisher. It is a formal letter—often an email these days—a writer sends to a literary agent in hopes of getting the agent excited enough to ask to read the writer's manuscript. If the agent asks to read the manuscript, and they like it and believe in its salability, they will offer to represent the author and shop the manuscript around to various publishing houses with the aim of landing a solid book deal.
Simple, right?
HA! (Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout-laugh with such anger and bitterness and scorn.)
Depending on whom you ask, literary agents reject between 96% and 110% of the submissions they receive. That means only about 4% to negative 10% of writers ever land an agent. And without an agent, a writer stands between a 0% and a negative 522% chance of being offered a book deal by a large, reputable publisher. I’m not trying to discourage anyone—I’m merely stating totally accurate math I definitely didn’t make up.
Such stark statistics are why you often see aspiring authors sobbing at cafés and in bars and on subways and atop suspension bridges. Such statistics are also why, if you’re a writer seeking a traditional publishing deal, you have to totally nail your query letter.
But here’s the thing: Even if you nail your query letter, you’re still unlikely to land a literary agent. Agents receive hundreds if not thousands of query letters each month, and unless J.K. Rowling or Stephen King is referring you, your query will barely be skimmed. Even if an agent reads your query and likes it and asks to read your manuscript, they likely won’t offer you representation unless your manuscript was ghostwritten by J.K. Rowling or Stephen King. I’m not trying to discourage anyone—I’m merely stating totally accurate facts completely free of any frustration or bitterness or scorn on my part.
So, if you’re a writer seeking an agent, you have two choices: 1) You can spend weeks perfecting your query letter and then a few more weeks personalizing it for each agent you want to query, and then a couple of months stressing out while waiting to receive each agent’s rejection notification, assuming they take the time to send one; OR 2) You can spend about ten minutes writing a horrible query letter and sending it out to all the agents at once without personalizing it, thus saving you months of emotional anguish and freeing you up to do what you truly love: writing another novel nobody will represent or publish.
I highly recommend option two. And am here to help.
To write a truly horrible query letter, you first need to know what constitutes a truly great query letter and then do the exact opposite when writing yours. Following is a list of what top literary agents and other experts in publishing typically cite as essential attributes of a query letter that works:
The agent is formally and properly addressed.
The book’s genre is clearly stated and one that the agent has expressed interest in.
No tpyos or grammatical. Errors.
Strong hook.
The book’s appeal isn’t exaggerated.
The bio section provides only the most relevant info about the author.
The submission guidelines are followed to a T.
Now, using the above bulleted items (or, more accurately, not using them) we are ready to quickly compose a monumentally bad query letter—one that won’t cause you or the writer in your life to bang your/their head against your/their laptop while crying out “Why? Why?” once the rejections start rolling in.
My Darling Gatekeeper/Dream-Maker:
I am seeking representation for my contemporary upmarket(ish)/literary neo-noir suspense psychological thriller sci-fi fantasy novel. It does not yet have a title—I figured you could come up with a better one than I can. The book is complete at 75,000 words or 100,000 words, depending on whether I decide to keep the chapter at the end that describes how the main character has been dead the whole time. The book, which will appeal to everybody who likes the best books, can be described as Gone Girl meets The Hunger Games meets The Martian meets The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.
Based on your interest in and huge success selling commercial romance fiction, I think it’s time you faced your conscience and starting handling much better books that are more like mine. I’m going to grab your attention now with the hook:
In a world where nothing is as it seems, former private investigator Jock Janson comes out of retirement to take on one last case before going back into retirement for good—unless another really intriguing case presents itself later.
Jock’s client, Ms. X, says she’ll pay Jock triple his normal rate if he can find out who murdered her husband. Jock assures her he can and will. There’s just one problem: Jock interrupted Ms. X before she could explain that she’s from the future and her husband was murdered fifty years from now. But if there’s one thing Jock needs even more than learning to stop interrupting clients, it’s money, so he takes the case. There’s just one more problem: Jock’s been dead the whole time. Or not. What do you think—should I have him be dead the whole time?
I’m going to move into the bio section of this query letter now so you can learn a little about me.
A little about me: I’m an author of contemporary upmarket(ish)/literary neo-noir suspense thriller sci-fi fantasy fiction who’s not very good at deciding on book titles or endings. I was the recipient of over 100 gold stars from my fourth grade English teacher. And while I have never won any official writing awards as an adult, my entry forms and fees have been accepted by top award sponsors on many occasions. I also like ping-pong.
Rather than paste the first ten pages of my manuscript into the body of this email as you specifically request on your website, I have attached the entire manuscript. This way you can read the whole thing before making any decisions about representation. Smart, right?
Thank you very much for taking the time to review my work. Don’t forget to come up with a great title.
Catch ya on the flipside.
Sincerely,
The Next Big Thing
That’s it. That’s how it’s done. Horrible query letters like the one above not only eliminate the months of “will they or won’t they” angst that come with querying literary agents these days; such letters also help writers release years of frustration in a lighthearted and almost healthy way. And who knows—maybe one of the agents who receives the letter will have an affinity for satire and career suicide, and thus may actually end up offering representation based solely on the writer's hubris.
But probably definitely not.
On a completely unrelated and blatantly capitalistic note, my novel THE EXIT MAN—which was optioned by both HBO and Showtime for development into a TV series—is now available for the embarrassingly low price of $0.99 at the following retail sites: