See, I had it all planned. Put up a blog. Dazzle Netizens with the brilliance of your prose style. Be trenchant. Acute.
Then wait for the book advance. I tell yer, they’ll be a-beggin’ of me.
Didn’t quite happen that way. What can I do, these chaps didn’t bother to read my script. I’ve been quite devastatingly dissed. (“Pompous but endearing” – yeah right, somebody’s stupid fat great-uncle).Trenchant? Ha! Trencherman at best. Obtuse rather than acute. And not so many Netizens either.
But wonders, the offers did come in. It took some years, but they did. Only the odd article so far, no book deal, but still and all, it’s a start. So all is gas and gaiters, not to mention joy and jollity. Except for one thing.
I still have to write the damn things. The agony.
3 comments:
I wish I could say, "I can imagine how you must be feeling."
But I can't. I don't even have a blog anymore. Count your blessings and all.
Sorry for not being helpful.
Given your brilliant prose style, trenchancy and acuteness, I feel you are on the slow train. Maybe you'll think of hiring a literary agent? Seriously yours.
Vivek, your blog is missed. You could mail, though. Our common friend in Sjakarta has just re-established contact.
Partho, overwhelmed by the praise. But the lit agent wouldn't WRITE it for me, more's the pity.
J.A.P.
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