Thursday, August 19, 2010

Agent wanted – to fuck off: take your egos elsewhere.

My blog is entitled, agent wanted because I always wanted to be published, as an author, or as a screenplay writer. As I read queries and walk the isles of bookstores, I see a bunch of stuff. Stuff no one wants to read. I query agents and I get one of two things. A form rejection or a rejection stating my idea is intriguing but unfortunately, the agent is not accepting new clients. Listen asshole, I was a fat-kid in High School; I am used to Rejection.

Just tell me my work sucks and hit send. Unbelievably, it hurts less to receive a form rejection, than to be told your work is intriguing, but not intriguing enough to warrant the request of a copy.

I have decided I do not want an agent, or even a fucking publishing house. (Yes, this blog does have swearing, and is not dolphin safe.) I will self publish my book, with ****** at first if I have to, until I can start up my own small press publishing house. (I asterisked the first part of the website because they do not give me money, and I am not yet ready to publish my book through them currently.)

From now on, my blog is tentatively titled Agent wanted – to fuck off: take your egos elsewhere. Why would I want some asshole to make more commission on my book than me? What the fuck did you do, get my book to a publishing house?

Hypothetically, yes

Realistically, no

If publishing houses were smart, they would stop using agents. An agents job can be outsourced internally. (if that makes any sense) here is what a publishing house should do to be smart, a publisher hires a person with an English degree, which is all an agent is.

A human with an English degree

The human then works for the publishing house, as a screener. He or she reads piles of manuscripts that are sent directly to the fucking publisher. Would this cost the publisher money?


Who cares?

No one

Only three parties make money then, the author who fucking deserves more money anyway, the publishing house, and the company that prints the book.

Listen assholes, without the author, without me, without Robert Patterson, and the cunt who sold her soul to the devil for fame and riches, and the opportunity to fuck up the world’s greatest horror genre with bedazzled vampires, the fucking industry crumbles. Why do I want an agent?

Why did I entitle this blog agent wanted?

I was scared, I want to be famous, I want people to read my book.

People will, but not with the help of greedy, talentless agents, who could not write a manuscript, if Jesus himself gave them a fucking clue.

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