“I just want you to know that turning down your project is not a comment on your abilities as a writer. This just doesn’t seem to be a fit for me at this time. Good luck in your future endeavors.”
Great. You heartless, slush-pile feeder.
Thanks for letting me down slowly with the “it’s not you, it’s me” break up. I thought we had something special. You, an agent with a distinct interest in MG and YA fiction. Your twitter feed so full of the same geekery that mine is. We listen to the same music. Don’t you remember that mix tape I sent in with my query? That morning when I stood outside your window, boom-box over my head, doing my best Lloyd Dobler, the sound of Peter Gabriel filling the early morning haze of your neighborhood can’t be easy to forget. Doesn’t that even mean anything to you! I gave you my heart and you gave me an email! Here I was, just some poor schlob with a story. The GREATEST STORY in the whole WORLD!! You’re going to sit there in my email and try to tell me that it just wasn’t going to work out? Honestly?
Okay, I deserved it. You’re right. I just wasn’t ready for a long term relationship. I threw myself into this too quickly. I was young. Full of life and energy. You, so experienced in the ways of publishing, spotting trends, negotiating foreign rights. Do you know how attractive you are when you negotiate foreign rights? No? You should.
You must have seen how eager I was. I was too eager, wasn’t I? You can be honest now. The wounds have healed and I’m ready for some self-reflection. We can both look back on that first query letter and laugh. Remember that first query? It was five pages long. I made that snide remark about “sparkling vampires”, told you how terrible that book with the kids and the killing and the dystopia was. I still laugh about how quickly I dismissed those other authors. All of their hard work. The things I said. The Next JK Rowling. Do you remember?
I miss you.