Ego, aflame
I received this in my inbox from a literary agent today:
“Dear Brandon,
Thank you for sharing your work with me. I know that writing a book is a time-consuming and emotional process, so I appreciate the effort you have expended to reach this point in your publishing journey. Unfortunately, I must reject what you have been kind enough to submit.
I am very selective about taking on new clients. Projects from my clients must have stellar world building, characters that leap off the page, pacing that is relentless, and a story that entices the reader to take its journey with the characters. I know that’s a tall order, but if your writing is lacking in any of those areas, I’ll pass on it.
I wish you the best of luck with your writing career.
— [redacted]”
Translation:
“No, you’re not crazy for having spent four hours editing that flash fiction piece today. If you actually want to do this instead of getting off on the thrill of talking about it in public, then you need to get your shit together. Write stories that matter. Do it in a way that can’t be ignored. Sell stories to markets that depend on readership, the kind with editors who can’t afford to accept work that’s just okay.
Stop being okay with being okay.
And for God’s sake start playing the game, will ya? Take an interest in other writers. Build an audience. Ask for help, and accept it when it’s given. Stop being so goddamn sensitive about seeking attention. How’s anyone supposed to read your work if they’ve never heard of you?
Sincerely,
Your Fucking Wake-up Call”
