Sunday, September 23, 2007


I've had so many rejections over the years that I occasionally get one that I call, "good rejection." I got one recently, well, it wasn't all that good but I pretended it was when I called the agent back. She was so f...... arrogant that I wish I had told her what a big "B" she was.

But, not to feel too badly, I recently read that Ann Frank's diary was deemed by some publisher as dull. OK! Another turned down Pearl Buck's Good Earth while an agent put the bad mouth on one of my favorite authors, Tony Hillerman. She told him to get rid of all that Indian stuff. You've got to be kidding me. Funny as all get out.

One interesting story is the rejections of Jack Kerouac. We have almost made him a saint as of late but before, On The Road, hit it, he was about to be put on the slush file of history for his "frenetic and scrambling" writing. That aside, I was intrigue to hear that when he did score with On The Road, he was in Florida and had to borrow $25 to get to New York. Now that will make us wannabe strugglers grin.