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Diary Of A Writer On The Brink

January 11, 2016

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It’s not uncommon for writers to spiral into madness. Less common, however, is to have such spiraling captured nice and neatly in a spiral-bound notebook. 
 
A couple of months ago, a waitress at a café in Portland, Oregon, found a journal someone had accidentally left behind at one of her tables. The waitress had never before seen the customer who‘d been sitting at the table, and the journal contained no name or contact information inside. What it did contain were numerous entries from an aspiring author who’d been gradually losing his patience – and, ultimately, his marbles.
 
Following are several key excerpts from the journal, which, ironically enough, will soon be published by Harper Collins.
 
 
August 12, 2015: I’m so excited – I finally finished writing my debut novel! Will hire a professional editor to get the book in tip-top shape before I start submitting it to literary agents. To help pay for the editing services, I plan to work a few extra shifts at my job, and to sell my plasma and sperm on a weekly basis.
 
September 8, 2015: Got my manuscript back from the professional editor, who corrected a ton of typos and grammatical errors, provided a lot of feedback on how to improve the beginning, middle and end of the book as well as most of the characters and dialogue, and she recommended I consider a career working with numbers rather than words. She did say mine wasn’t the absolute worst manuscript she’s ever edited, and I told her I was very grateful for the compliment. As soon as I stop crying and cutting myself, I’ll get to work on the second draft.     
 
October 17, 2015: After more than a month of revisions and amphetamine use, I feel my manuscript is ready to submit to agents! I can’t afford to pay for any more professional editing, but my mother read the new draft and said it’s one of the best novels by one of her children she’s ever read. Tomorrow I shall send query letters to ten of the top literary agents specializing in my genre. I can’t believe it – in just a few weeks I might have an agent! Or a substance abuse problem. Probably both.
 
October 18, 2015: Wow, that was fast. Already received my first rejection from an agent. While she opted not to represent me/my novel, she must really respect me and my time; otherwise she would have drawn out the rejection process for weeks or months, or perhaps ignored my query letter altogether. Such prompt communication is a hopeful sign! Granted, the rejection came in the form of an auto-response email featuring the words ‘DO NOT REPLY’ in the subject line, but still, I believe good things lie ahead! Now where did I leave my Vicodin and my razor blades…     
  
 October 23, 2015: Received two more rejections today, one from an agent I didn’t even query, which is strange. Feeling a bit down, but nothing a little electroshock therapy and Red Bull won’t be able to fix. I keep reminding myself that Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was rejected 121 times before being published, and my manuscript features a much cooler font than his did.
 
October 29, 2015: There is a God! I received a request from an agent asking to see the first three chapters of my novel! I danced around the house naked for two hours. I then received a request from my neighbor asking that I close the blinds the next time I decide to dance.
 
November 8, 2015: Received two more form letter rejections, but what do I care? I’m practically signed already. I almost feel sorry for these foolish agents who are rejecting me now, as I can foresee the tremendous anguish and remorse they’ll each suffer once my novel explodes onto the bestseller list. It’ll be hard for any of them to bounce back from such an err in judgment, from such a missed opportunity. Just ask the guy who almost signed The Beatles or The Rolling Stones or The Wiggles.  
 
November 17, 2015: It’s happening! The agent who requested the first three chapters a couple of weeks ago just asked me to send her the remainder of my manuscript. I drank a bottle of champagne and defiantly danced naked in the window facing my aforementioned neighbor’s house. Nobody tells this soon-to-be bestselling author what to do, not even the cops who are walking up my driveway right this moment.
 
November 18, 2015: Recovering nicely from the taser burns I suffered at the hands of the police yesterday. Thankfully no charges were made against me. The lead officer was kind enough to let me off with a warning after I promised to dedicate my upcoming bestseller to his German Shepherd.
 
December 1, 2015: There must have been some sort of a mix-up. Maybe it’s just a practical joke. Today I received a rejection notification from the agent who had requested my full manuscript. When I called her office to get to the bottom of this, they told me she was out to lunch – all 23 times I called. She has also yet to respond to any of the 27 emails I sent her since receiving the rejection a few hours ago. I can’t think straight. I can’t feel my legs. I can’t remember if any of my friends own a gun, or what the penalty is for kidnapping.
 
December 2, 2015: The reality of my recent rejection – when I was just inches away from literary fame and wealth – has just started to set in. So has the severe gastrointestinal distress from eating seven pints of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream with Diazepam sprinkles on top. After I induce vomiting, I think I’ll take a nice warm bath with the toaster. Oh, wait a sec, I think I see the mailman outside, and he appears to be smiling. Mailmen can sense good news inside of envelopes! I bet the three he just stuck in my mailbox are from agents dying to sign me!
 
December 2, 2015: Nope. Turns out the three envelopes were: 1) a credit card offer; 2) a warning from the electric company about my past due bills; and 3) another rejection notification from an agent. The plan now is to use the new credit card to pay the electric company as well as to buy a one-way plane ticket to New York City, where I will hand-deliver a basket full of dead rodents to each of the literary agencies that have spurned me. While in the city, I plan to also visit the Empire State Building and see who makes it down from the observation deck faster – me or my unpublished novel. See you in hell, everybody! (Assuming I don’t get rejected there, too.)  
 
 
NOTE:
You’ll be relieved to know there have been no recent reports of anyone jumping or attempting to jump from the top of the Empire State Building. That said, the body of a man with an Oregon ID was recently found on a bench in Central Park, lying next to a half-eaten manuscript.

 

 

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