The Publishing World

I wrote a book between the years of 1992 to 2002. It started out as one thing and become another and I forgot about it for (sometimes) years in between. I became a better writer over those years and that is one of the hard things about art: when to stop. You're always evolving, always improving (one hopes), always have a different perspective--so, when are you done?

Well, in 2002 I met a writer who introduced me to his agent who was with a pretty big literary agency. I told him all about my book and he wanted to read it. So, I spent about 4 weeks editing 24/7 to get it in shape. I kid you not. I woke up at 6, ate at my desk and wrote and edited until midnight.

I knew the book was very good. And I'm my own worst critic so that's saying a lot. Some of it wasn't so good, but most of it was and, I'll tell you, about 10% of it was fucking great. So great it gave me chills to read.

Well, this dude wanted to represent me. He saw not just a book but a movie in my future. It did not surprise me because that is the way I write: I see it, then I write it.

I was thrilled. This was it. Fame. Fortune. And, most importantly, validation.

Life went on. He talked to every publisher in the world it seemed. And then, on my birthday, a portent appeared in the mail:

A catalog came. A catalog for a clothing store I had once done some work for. That store represented a low point for me. And in the pages of that catalog were "real people." One of those real people was a writing teacher I had at school, one who told me I would make a great writer. So here was this hero of mine mingling with this evil place. How odd.

That night was not just my birthday, but my birthday party. I had fantasized telling my friends that I was being published. Then, on that same day, a few hours after the catalog and a few hours before the party, a Fed Ex came. It was my manuscript, returned, with a note.

Dear Bart,

You are a wonderful writer and your novel is a joy to read. Alas, I cannot sell it. Publishing is a business and a cold one at that. Stories such as yours are just not marketable today, at least that is the word on the street.

I feel it is my duty to relieve you of my representation and allow you to pursue other avenues.

My best regards,

Jack Agent

Well, I was crushed, but the day's irony also amazed me.

To this day I know that my book will be published and find an audience. I know that if I like it, people I like and who like me will like it.

Publishing is really no better than the movie business these days. It's all about the lowest common denominator. But I swear, I'm not bitter. I actually feel that self-publishing may be the way to go. Now, if I could only stop editing the book...