A humorous response to publishers who reject

A cunning plan by Gerry Thompson

I write as an author with profound experience of rejection by publishers, having suffered terribly from repeated post-rejection-letter depression. In recent years my thoughts have turned to the subject of revenge; to tell the truth, my thoughts have been turned to the subject of revenge ever since I was nine, when my essay on 'My Lovely Holiday' was rejected by the school magazine.

Of course there are many excellent everyday ways of getting revenge on people, and any of these could be harnessed for this particular purpose. There's absolutely nothing wrong with scratching your publisher's Porsche, ringing him or her up and pretending you're having an a affair with his or her spouse, or dumping a lorry-load of manure on their ornamental pond . These are all perfectly good measures that can bring satisfaction and cause annoyance. But as an author, I have long dreamt of coming up with a ploy that is more creative, more writerly, and more loaded with bitter irony. Also being terminally lazy, there should ideally be a high ratio of trouble-caused-to-them to effort-put-in-by-me. So here's the plan that I've come up with. It's a kind of twisted and devious hybridisation of the chain letter. I call it the Pyramid of Revenge, and it works something like this:

Let's say the publishers Writche-Phatt-Towde have rejected my voluminous epic masterwork, The Ineffable Slightness of Seeming., and in their rejection slip have spitefully added that it probably isn't worth trying anyone else either. Suitably incensed, I devise a letter as below, and send an individualised copy to ten of the most naive, arrogant and simply bad writers that I can think of - the naiver, arroganter and worse, the better.

Writche-Phatt-Towde, Publishers
The Penthouse Suite
World Domination Towers
Mayfair
London W1F OFF

Dear Sir or Madam

We are actively seeking manuscripts for the launch of an exciting new imprint, and have recently become aware of your outstanding reputation in your field. We are particularly interested in very, very long manuscripts in which not very much happens.

From what we have heard of your work, we feel we can more or less guarantee publication for you. So we'd like you to come round to our offices in person, at your earliest convenience, with your latest work. We expect to be able to offer you an immediate six-figure cash advance on the spot.

As you are no doubt aware, we are an extremely rapidly expanding group and are encountering a real shortage of very, very (very) long material in this category. For this reason, we would also like to enlist your further help in this matter. As we have such immense respect for your well-known skill and judgement, we would like to ask you to act on our behalf in helping us locate other authors of your style and character, on a generous commission basis. We are willing to pay you 15% of all monies advanced to any or all authors whom you may help us locate.

Would you be prepared, therefore, to make copies of this letter and send them to as many as possible of your literary acquaintances - authors who in your opinion would be worthy of the same terms? If so, we should be most grateful.

We very much look forward to meeting you in the very near future. So remember, please don't trouble yourself to telephone - just pop round, without an appointment. I shall be happy to see you personally. Just walk straight up to my penthouse suite. And don't forget that nice fat manuscript!

Yours in eager anticipation

J. Arthur Slyme
Commissioning Editor , Writche-Phatt-Towde

 

That should do the trick.

Stop press - the publishers have just accepted my latest manuscript. What lovely people publishers are! I won't hear a word said about them...