So, fledgling writer, you have attempted to send your work out to literary agents and publishers alike, and you have submitted it to various competitions. And yet you haven't heard anything back. It is, I agree, a sordid state to endure. A sordid state to endure indeed.
Many other articles on this topic, fledgling writer, will attempt immediately to salve your ego with claims about literary agents being of a particularly fickle nature, of associates at publishing houses being overtasked and inundated with piles upon piles of slush they must get through before the week is through. They will tell you that your finished product simply wasn't the product these professionals of the industry were looking for at that time, or that it is close, but not quite close enough; that it just needs a little tweaking here and there, a little more editing and spruicing. Structural faults, character development - it just needs a little more work.
And well, you might say, I can certainly hold onto this thing I birthed painfully into the world for a little while longer until it meets market demand, or, at least, I can edit it and re-work it and polish it until it shines a little more, and then, at last, somebody out there will appreciate it for the genius it is; somebody out there will really want it.
Well, I am here, fledgling writer, to do something quite shocking; fledgling writer: I am here to disagree with you... I am here to shock you... With the truth.
Prepare yourself, fledgling writer, for here it comes: your writing is simply not good enough.
I know, I know; I can hear you now screaming with impotent rage at the computer monitor about how you spent no less than six years writing your travel memoirs; I can picture you shaking your scrawny little fist and proclaiming angrily that it took you a whole four years to complete that horror story all your friends were always telling you was such a wonderful idea. I can hear you whispering with quiet enmity that your partner/grandmother/step-brother's partner's personal trainer thought your novel was 'awesome' and 'well written' and 'should totally be published one day,' and that you trust their opinion no less than absolutely, and anyway, who the hell am I, Clarke Geoffries, world-renowned Amazon thriller author, to tell you any different?
Again, dear writer, I am firmly standing my ground. I am here to tell you that they were all lying to you. Every last one of them.
Publishers and literary agents are on the look out for the next Misery, the next Jurassic Park, the next Gone Girl. What you've written is simply Sadness, what you've wasted years on is merely Gigantic Field, Disappeared Lady. What you've sweated and toiled and cried over is nothing more than an amalgamation of your own wish fulfillment interspersed within paragraphs of prose and plot you've borrowed or, probably more aptly, subconsciously absorbed from every movie, play, book and tv series you've ever been exposed to. And it's nothing more than a mere shadow of those works, spewed forth on a series of word processed pages that you've more than likely arbitrarily ordered with nary much thought to the art form.
What you've written, quite simply, is generic garbage.
And if you were Stephen King or some other great name in the publishing world you could probably get away with it.
But the truth of the matter is, fledgling writer, that you are no such person and as such you will not get away with anything less than something that is unique and brilliant and mind-bending.
So run along, now, and set to work at improving your craft; discard your hubris along with your first, second or even third work of rubbish, and set to creating something new and breath-taking, and make sure to imbue it with unique plot devices, as well as rich, engaging characters and interesting, surprising turns of events, and do also make sure it's been thoroughly, undeniably edited, and only then will you be able to truly 'make it' in this business.
Do not, dear writer, get bogged down with the knowledge that your writing as this stage stinks worse than a sewerage treatment facility - instead, use it to push you further and further to the point where you are producing material of a quality where you have several agents and publishers scrambling all over each other for the chance to grasp at it.
And please, there really is no need for you to thank me for my frankness... Your future success is all the thanks I need.
Yours in modest sincerity,
