A Gent's Outlook

A Literary Agent Divulges the TRUTH about Publishing

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Marley Does Poe

Here is another post by our beloved Marley Barley. Fair warning, she uses strong language sometimes (at this point you should laugh at my use of understatement—don’t ask why, just do it it and you will be ahead of the game, I assure you).

Jesus fucking Christ people, is all you do whine? How about changing the “h” to an “r” and the “n” to a “t”? That’s right, fucking write goddamn something. Agents like clients who write and write and write, then actually produce something publishable. It takes a while. If I get one more query where some dickhead tells me he finished his novel in 3 months, my nipples will spontaneously drop off. Sammy told me I got a bunch of comments about my Hemingway posts, and my response to those literary sticks is, “Go fuck yourselves.” Perpetuating miserable writing on students—or anyone--just because you are too lazy to read modern literature is in excusable and offensive. Fuck you again.

And just to make it worse, I am going to re-write Poe. That’s goddamn right; I am re-writing that drunk motherfucker’s work. How do you like that? Read and learn, Dr. Bozos…

Poe:
During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was; but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me—upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain—upon the bleak walls—upon the vacant eye-like windows—upon a few rank sedges—and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees—with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveler upon opium—the bitter lapse into every-day life—the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it—I paused to think—what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher?

Marley's Corrected Poe:
During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, I rode alone within view of the melancholy House of Usher. Gloom pervaded my spirit as I looked upon the scene before me, a simple landscape reflecting the utter depression of a soul tortured by an unredeemed dreariness of thought. What was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher?

Set the scene my ass! Get to it Eddie, get to it! If Poe made love like he wrote, his partners probably died before he got to the good stuff. No wonder he had a thing for dead women. See how easily that was explained? Someone’s dissertation just went down le toilet, didn’t it?

Fuck you,
Marley

11 Comments:

  • At 6:05 PM, Anonymous blabbity blue said…

    Nice job Marley.

    I call your nipples, when they fall off.

     
  • At 4:55 AM, Blogger Rhonda Stapleton said…

    This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

     
  • At 6:55 AM, Blogger Dante said…

    I had a pup named Marley once! He was a good pup! He liked to eat napkins and they turned his poop white.

    Are you a handsome guy? You seem like you'd be a handsome guy.
    I'm not gay or nothing, just thought I'd make smalltalk.

    I'm writing a book about the time I lost all my money at the horsey race.
    Do you think maybe you could read it?
    I wouldn't ask you to pay me or anything, I just thought maybe you could give it a gander. Not like a goose but like a little looksie.
    Do you like chocolate covered pretzels? I love 'em! Except I always forget and wipe the chocolate on my pants. My stepmom says I'm like the kid in Gilbert Grape, but I haven't seen it so I don't what that means. I think you use too many bad words when you write. Why do you do that? Do you live in New York?
    My stepmom says people in New York use lots of bad words.
    You use lots of neat words too. I like neat words.
    Maybe we could chat sometime, I'm not gay or nothing I was just thinking that maybe we could chat.

     
  • At 1:09 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    i hate you

     
  • At 2:30 PM, Anonymous dipshit watchdog said…

    Dear Sammy,

    I don't believe you are a real agent. I bet you've never sold a book in your life. Maybe you're an angry, failed writer. Maybe you're one of those fee-charging agents who makes a living off his clients' ignorance rather than from selling manuscripts. Either way, you're not for real.

    Prove me wrong. Say something verifiable about your professional credentials--for instance, the last book you sold (author name, title, publisher).

     
  • At 10:40 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    you suck a lot of cock don't you..
    and I bet you take it in the ass from your dog ...
    you are such an asshole

     
  • At 10:08 AM, Blogger Bernita said…

    Dear Ms. Marley,
    Our publication seeks stories that reflect a gothic atmosphere and setting. Furthermore, we prefer those submissions which reflect an authentic "voice", grammatical style and pattern of thought consistent with the period which they purport to portray.
    While your approach is somewhat succinct and direct, it lacks a certain ambience.
    Thank you for considering our house, etc.

     
  • At 12:42 PM, Anonymous Marley said…

    Dearest Bernita,

    FUCK YOU!!!!

     
  • At 12:56 PM, Anonymous Marley said…

    Dear Gilly,

    I'M GIRL, DIPSHIT!!! Gilly, are you from Gilligan's Island? Did you try to make a jack-o-lantern out of the dog shit? Fuck off!!

    Aw poor widdle nony--nony. No body paying attention to you, scookums. Marley will pay some--FUCK YOU and the FUCK'N Camel you rode in on, you obnoxious Prick!! How's that sweetums--hummmm?

     
  • At 4:45 PM, Anonymous Tuttle said…

    Hey Dipshit Watchdog,
    You all suck, you know that? I have been in publishing only a little while, but I figured out right away you watchdogs are a bunch of power freaks. You drive the whole industry down with the crap you spew. Poor little writers can't fend for themselves. Bullshit! The writers I work with are mostly barbarians, and you guys encouraging them by telling them how wonderful and put upon they are hasn't helped any. Writers threaten to tell on me when my house rejects them and it isn't what they want to hear. When will there be a watchdog group to protect us editors from lousy, arrogant writers?

     
  • At 11:46 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    leave gilly out of this you two-toed sloth
    you think you know .. but you have no idea.
    you asshole bitch

     

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