A Gent's Outlook

A Literary Agent Divulges the TRUTH about Publishing

Saturday, October 08, 2005

The One That Got Away

I saw her the other day…a girl—no, the girl—I dated between wives two and three. She was the one that got away. Big ta-tas, sort of big hair, a penchant for wine and cheese, and she liked to remain naked, just like I am now, most of the time. What a broad! She could out-curse Marley, but she could also be such a lady. Especially in the sack. You know the type I mean, guys. The one that reminds you of the teacher you always wanted to boink, the porn star you did boink, and the first lady you would have boinked if the Secret Service stick hadn’t gotten done in the john so soon. That kind of girl. She could do things that would make your head spin, and I don’t mean the one on your shoulders. Yet she liked to read poetry to me in bed, which is mighty hard to do when you are hanging upside down like that.

Anyway, I couldn’t get to her in time to ask for a second date. Why? Because a writer I had been avoiding—let’s call her The Wicked Bitch of the East—spotted me. She really wants to get her hooks into me, but only so I can represent her. But her reputation preceded her. She was all smiles to me, but she had dumped a good friend of mine when he tried to get her to do a simple revision. She gave me her card, and I told her I’d think about it…again. “You’d better not think too long, “ was her vampy reply.

This is a classic case of the “You can have her, I don’t want her” syndrome. There are some writers you just can’t work with, and that number is constantly going up. I thought there might be something in the water—or maybe the vodka—a Russian plot or something. Then I realized it’s what reader have encountered on bookstore shelves. I’ve coined it the “All About Me” disease. It seems to run rampant whenever writers begin to think the world cannot exist without them. Sorry, writers, when it comes to literature, there is only one group that we cannot do without, and writer hacks are shitting all over them. And me, too, considering I got cornered by Bitchy-poo, which prevented me from nailing, er, chatting with my ex-lust buddy.

All I can say is, wherever you are right now, Paris, maybe next time, baby. Maybe next time.

2 Comments:

  • At 1:01 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Why didn't you do the logical thing? A threesome, of course!

     
  • At 11:47 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    b/c he has a small dick
    DUH

     

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