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The Acceptance Letter I’ve Been Waiting For

Mr. Marsh,

Thank you for your recent submission.  I mean that.  Thank you.  Never before in the twenty years that I’ve been in the publishing industry have I read a piece so moving that it brought me to tears.  That’s not a euphemism, either.  As I finished your piece I found myself overcome with raw emotion; sobbing from a feeling of sadness and joy I never before thought possible.  I hope that doesn’t make you feel awkward.  But, it is honest, and if there’s anything your writing has taught me, it’s that we must always be true to ourselves.

The truth is that my life had been steadily losing its meaning over the past several years.  The pain of a mundane existence coupled with the lack of a promise of improved circumstances for myself, my family, or society as a whole, has drained the color from the world around me.  Until I read the monumental tour-de-force you graced me with, I hadn’t realized just how far into the downward spiral of depression I had fallen.  When I exhaled upon reading the final, wondrous, line of prose, the air ran sweet across my tongue and a vigor I hadn’t felt in recent memory permeated my bones.  Immediately, I called my cocaine dealer and told him that I wouldn’t be needing anymore of his poison; that I was now high on life.  I broke things off with my mistress and I’m trying to reconnect with my estranged children.  Your writing has saved me, sir, and for that you have my eternal gratitude and devotion.

That part when the Ewok break-dance crew helps a young Bruce Lee reunite his family and finally master the elusive secrets of Wing Chun?  I still get shivers, Mr. Marsh.  I still get shivers.  We may have some licensing issues to deal with by using the name Ewok, but, don’t worry too much.  If Disney won’t play ball we’ll just call them Beewoks or Leewoks, or something.  I hope that doesn’t compromise your artistic integrity.

My only criticism of the manuscript is that the one hundred and fifty page car chase through the San Francisco hills was not long enough.  You have a real knack for these scenes, and I have to tell you, we need more of it.  I hope I’m not being dramatic when I say that the world will continue to be a soulless machine filled with hollow faces until we get this book into print.

I hope that I’m not being presumptuous when I refer to you and I as, “we.”  I realize that you haven’t signed an agreement with me yet, and that you’ll have your choice of representation.  I’m going to level with you.  The other literary agents and I have been talking, and there’s been some disagreement about who will have the honor of being your representative — your champion and guide — in the publishing industry forthwith.  There has been talk of convening a special session of the Grand Council of Literary Agents to deal with the matter, as it’s quickly becoming an item of contention among us.  I can’t say too much, as our society is a secret one, but, I may have to duel for the honor of serving you.

Please, don’t worry too much for me.  Pain is temporary.  Even scars will fade.  The glory of being your agent?  That will transcend the ages.


Noah Juan Ever

Literary Agent