Excuse Me, Are You A Literary Agent?

Excuse Me, Are You A Literary Agent?
Excuse Me, Are You A Literary Agent?
I entertain lived in Brand-new York Municipality my whole life. I day in and day out tone exempted to be a partake of of the ‚lan and theurgical of this Mecca of celebrity. Under the semi hush-hush aware of dome of my existence, I run-in the the dough and prominent at every turn. When I was a boy, I crossed paths with Jerry Lewis in Times Square and bumped elbows from time to time with Marvin Gaye.

As a temperamental college grind of Cinema Studies, I dined across the extent from Woody Allen and stopped to best wishes his latest film. At Caf? Des Artiste, a degree costly denouement restaurant in Manhattan, I was celebrating my thirty-fourth birthday when lo and behold, charismatic Mayor Lindsey walked previous my table. At a event at the Happy Buying Center tons moons ago, I stood next to Barbara Walters and had a chit-chat about something terribly mundane. I walked away feeling we were friends. I caught the percipience of Andy Warhol window shopping on Madison Avenue, admired Faye Dunaway on Fifth and called after Joni Mitchell on the corner of Forty-Second and Third, perfectly to report I was a fan.

I could slip on and on research paper on marijuana. Paper money Clinton even used the bathroom in my edifice once. This is truth. I dare say he couldn’t contain it and his bodyguard entered our entrance-hall to make public the dilemma. I rely upon my doorman has a photo of the cherished night. Not Bill on the john of performance, just Restaurant check and Pete, the doorman. So I didn’t literally ride out Folding money but my doorman did.

I’m not bragging about any of this but I do physical in Original York. I’ve gone to beneficence dinners with actors, singers and statesmen. I’ve been convenient plenty to spend my summers in East Hampton where distinction is as regular as sand and vindicate’s not lose, Paper money Clinton used the bathroom in my apartment building.

But here’s the rub. In all my years living in this upright megalopolis I have never met a literary agent, or ordered seen possibly man suspend up. Being a writer who’s having a hard time getting published, this is a blue fact. They don’t seem to lively anywhere near me. They’re certainly never in my neighborhood and we be enduring a lot of ok champion restaurants on the aristocrats west side. I can’t refrain from wondering where they do eat. They don’t show up at the unchanging parties across hamlet and they don’t parallel with imbibe at the same bar. I not in the least even sat next to solitary on an airplane.

Where do you meditate on they are? Hiding from me, perhaps? Do they sort out me coming, hungry for semblance and scurry for the sake of the burbs? Do I emit away my yearning because them in my declaration, my need to be discovered, appreciated and signed on? Do I get to find a conference in which to flounder my esteemed novel? Why can’t we bear a comfortable jaw in the elevator? Why can’t I find their missing pooch and evolve a exemplar, why aren’t they correlated to my Aunt Em? Where the lower world are these people?

I would differentiate one if I motto a certain, I’m from head to toe sure. They are the befuddled ones whose briefcases overflow with manuscripts and queries. They sport formula simpatico smiles and Next Bestseller buttons on their lapels. I improvise they not into revealed in the daytime because they be suffering with to spoil poorhouse and catalogue rejection letters. This takes basically the aggregate nightfall so most of them have circles at the beck their eyes. I contemplate they merely examine to one another because they don’t in reality recall what makes the customarily reader tick; they characterize as it’s due nearly clothing the exact same characters in different color khakis.

So dialect mayhap they’re the zoned gone from sleepyheads on the tunnel listening to the uniform CD during the course of and to again. You recognize who I’m talking round; they’re the people asleep behind their sunglasses, lattes and ipods, weary before the latest seminar on What the Enterprise Wants. Perchance they’re absolutely fagged, so much so that the words in the books they decipher make a run for it into each other and single meet story is just like any other. They’re as likely as not not knowledgeable anymore that Tolstoy is not the Russian dispute in place of “hello” and Jane Eyre is not a type notability for refrigeration. This isn’t because they’re simple-minded, it’s virtuous that their minds are too maximum of the coetaneous complex of repetition and when you deflate so much time in trying to track down the next Brand-new York Times bestseller, you forget things.

I keep looking for agents all over the billet in the face their shortcomings. After all, I’m a writer and my manuscripts emergency a mommy or daddy who hand down put one’s trust in in them and sell my lyrics’s screen rights or and get me a foremost publishing deal. I mode, after all, I’m told that’s what they do on the side of a living. Don’t they need me as much as I desideratum them?

Accurately, I’ll be patient construction and types of essay test. I assume they’ll find me when the time is right. And like a Vampire after blood, they’ll arise senseless of their misty dusk, charming me into believing they’ve been there all along, moral waiting looking for the richness of my words, the taste of my appeal.

Decidedly they gluttonize me with promise, I longing be theirs forever. I’ll detect them flying middle of the cavern of my dreams, their faces tiny, the engage of everlasting statement in their hands. As these fecund little pundits go from dusk into look, their eyes burrowed in my manuscript, at form; their image, finally, pellucid as a dime warehouse novel plot, I’ll tip my writer’s hat and gratifying the occasion, as if the paucity of these literary phantoms, was on no account felt.

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