Monday, February 18, 2019
Dear Editor: I am finally ready
Yes, I have submitted my work to you now 47 times for your consideration.
Yes, you have said no every time.
"Maybe," You are thinking "He hasn't taken my 'no's' to heart."
I have taken each and every one of your no's to heart!
And if it were as simple as all that I would not write you again proposing that you publish my book. I would understand that you really were seriously not interested in publishing my writing.
But there were mitigating circumstances.
Things have changed.
Those other 47 times I submitted my manuscript I wasn't ready. Deep down I did not really feel that I should be published, even if on the surface I was certain that I was ready. I was self sabotaging.
You might not remember it that way. You might just think each of those 47 times you simply didn't feel that my manuscript was up to the standards of your publishing company. You might not have recognized my self sabotaging even as you reacted to it on multiple levels.
With that in mind let me refresh your memory with some of the devices I have subconsciously used to dissuade you even as you simply ascribed your reticence to the quality of my writing. Once you see that your negative response was due to my self destructive tendencies, and not to the shortcomings of my literary acumen, you will be ready, I believe, to open your heart to the new, fully actualized me, and to my finely crafted works of popular literature.
The following then is a list of self sabotaging elements that have appeared in my previous 47 submissions:
1. Calling your fine publishing house a "den of cowardly corporate fascism".
2. Demanding first class airfare before signing any agreements.
3. The inclusion of fish in the envelope with my submission.
4. Lying about Nobel Prizes when it's super easy to look up whether someone won a Nobel Prize.
5. Having Bob Dylan call you, especially considering how much he mumbles.
6. Any reference to fonts, all 207 of them.
7. THE SUBMISSIONS ALL IN BOLDFACED CAPS.
8. Printing my manuscript in invisible ink.
9. Asking preemptively for my postage money back.
10. Showing up at your summer house in my swimsuit.
11. The whole thing with the pigeons.
12. Impersonating Nicholas Sparks.
13. The thing with the Cheetos bag (I'm glad everyone is okay!).
14. Telling you that my writing is mysteriously unpopular.
15. Tear-stained manuscript pages.
Now that all this is out in the open I am hoping we can move beyond it and start afresh.
I humbly ask that in the spirit of new beginnings, and speaking as a person finally ready for this next big step in my writing career, you will take an unbiased look at my enclosed work of non-fiction essays. Hopefully, unfettered by my self-defeating actions of the past, you will see their merits and be interested in working with me to publish them at your lovely and esteemed press.
If this is so please do let me know at your earliest convenience, and I will release your dog.
With hopes for a bright future together!