Another week, another literary agency sends me a lovely and friendly but ultimately soul-destroying rejection. Yeah, I know, authors need to have thick skins and it's not you it's me and it's just personal taste and someone else might and there's a lot of good and we cannot enter into any further correspondence goodbye.
This one was a bit special. I'd read about this agency and thought it was the right one for me. I haven't contacted any of them in a few years because I thought it would be better to spend the time writing, rather than reformatting to some agent's personal preference and printing and packaging and taking it to the Post Office to queue and weigh and pay. I thought it was better to do some writing than to spend six to eight weeks (months?) waiting to hear back
(I thought that might be too bitter so I struck through the last seven words. But I left them for those who would just nod and smile rather than think badly of me.)
So, I thought this one would actually be the one. And I was wrong. Maybe next time.
But I thought sending out a rejection email at 10pm on a Saturday was a bit unnecessary. Even a friendly one.
Here's a bit of it. Any identifying features removed. There was more - so if it seems brief that's my fault for trimming.
Part of the reason that I've taken a while is that I do keep coming back to your work, but I'm afraid that therein lies the problem: I am finding it too easy to put it down in the first place. You write very well, but I'm just not hooked, so I'm sorry to say that I can't offer representation...[I removed plenty from here] ...I'm also really sorry that I just don't have the time to enter into correspondence about what's not working for me, but I do wish you the very best of luck.This wasn't meant as catharsis, but I couldn't resist sending something back the next morning. Here's part of it:
I understand enough about the work of a literary agent to appreciate that you can't work with anything you're not passionate about... [content removed]
Personally, I find it ridiculous (if slightly amusing from a schadenfreude perspective) to read ... accounts of agents and publishers who turned down Harry Potter (or Fred Astaire or the Beatles or...). They're always written as though someone turned down a successful seven-book, eight-film, toy-range conglomerate - rather than an early draft of a single book about kids with magic going to school. No, I don't think I've written the next Harry Potter.
And I also discovered that you represent [famous writer that I really like]. I always wondered if I could get a copy of They All Die At The End to [him/her] - for some reason I thought it might appeal to [him/her] and that it would be a reciprocation for how much I've enjoyed [his/her] work over the years. I've never tried to do anything about getting [him/her] a copy before today. So, if [he/she] would like to read it (absolutely no strings attached, naturally), I would be happy to send [him/her] a copy - just let me know where to send it.
... [content removed]...
P.S. If I can be permitted one tiny critical comment... No one wants to read a rejection at 10pm on a Saturday night. I'd batch them up and send them all out first thing Monday morning.
Maybe the P.S. was cheeky but I really thought I should flag it up in proactive defence of the next guy. Honestly. Not sour grapes - public service.
Turns out it was my fault for reading it on a Saturday night. Here's the reply:
Hope you don't object to a Sunday morning response! ... I guess we should all keep off screens at weekends.
I don't send unrequested books to [famous writer] as [he/she] gets so much I'm afraid...
Ben Folds wrote a song called Free Coffee ("And when I was broke, I needed it more, But now that I'm rich, They give me coffee") - so it's not just successful writers struggling with the problem of free merchandise. Although in Ben's case he can just drink the coffee and is unlikely to have it thrust into his hand wherever he goes - presumably [famous author] doesn't want the hassle of disposing of unwanted books which could well have been made with cheap glue in the binding, thereby making them impossible to recycle. Like these ones.
Another author told me about the problem of unsolicited books turning up in the post. And John Crace wrote a great article with advice for aspiring authors, including the salient point that agents and publishers really don't care what he thinks about a book - they'll make their own decision. At least, that's how I remember it. I can't find the article now but I did find this which is also good.
No sympathy required, dear reader. I am back on the horse and the next agent is, I'm sure, even as I type, even as you read, repeatedly picking up and putting down (or vice versa) my books.
***
If you've got this far, you'll forgive (won't you?) my adding that my four (count 'em!) books are available as paperbacks and would make excellent Christmas presents.
If you buy them direct from me, I'll even sign them and, if you like, write the dedication of your choice (as long as it's neither rude nor lengthy).
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