Well, got the heave-ho from the next agent in the list, but I have to appreciate that while it was a form letter, at least it was a polite form letter, complete with a pep-talk. “Assume we’re wrong,” was the message, “keep trying.” I had read the text of the letter previously on their Web site, but even though I knew what was coming the encouraging words were welcome. The large body of constructive advice and resources on the agency’s site was one of the reasons I had selected them in the first place. They seemed like they would be good to work with.

So let it be known that the Larsen-Pomada Literary Agency was the second agency to reject me, but in my book they’re number one!

On a related note, I have come, over the last months, to understand the need authors have to be published. Sure, fame and fortune are nice, recognition by peers and critics has its place, but there is something deeper, more fundamental. Yesterday I put my finger on it. Once an author publishes a work and it appears in print, then and only then is it possible to stop working on it. Publication is a release from bondage.

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Sweet!

Thanks!

Since I mentioned before that I had not tasted rejection (for my writing, at least) since seventh grade, it’s only fair to tell you that the streak has been broken. I found upon my return to the Old Country a letter sitting atop the refrigerator. It was a self-addressed stamped envelope with a very polite pre-printed rejection card inside. Let it be known, far and wide, that the Ethan Ellenberg Literary Agency was the first (thought assuredly not the last) to say no to Jerry Seeger.

Now, I have been saying all along that I expect to be rejected. I’m sending letters to agents who rarely take on unpublished writers. What is more, after I sent in my query I found a more complete list of the titles this particular agent has sold, and they seem to specialize in authors who produce a title every month or two. They are mass market, and while I hope my market is also massive, mine is not the kind of stuff they do every day (only occasionally). They do, however, have relationships with the publishers I want to target.

So the rejection was no surprise. It proves I’m not selling myself short. That’s a good thing.

At the same time, I can’t help but be disappointed. Didn’t they see the obvious quality of the story? The prose as clear and resonant as a church bell sounding out over the peaceful hamlet on a Sunday morning, calling the faithful to prayer? The incisive wit, the lofty intelligence, the visceral descriptions, the heart-rending pathos? What agents would not jump at the chance to fundamentally change their business model when presented with prose of such promise?

Time to start researching the next submission.

Sweet!

Thanks!