Recent exploits into the world of the “Artiste” /end snooty voice/

Last week I joined a writer’s workshop, in the hope of getting a little feedback and maybe some tips on writing query letters to agents and publishers. Well, the feedback was utter nonsense, lots of “Oh, I really like it, I just don’t know how to tell you what I like about it” crap. As for the query letter information? Well, apparently none of them have ever submitted ANYTHING, ANYWHERE. Several didn’t even know what a query letter IS.

For those of you that don’t know what I’m talking about:

Anyway, I quit the group and, as per their guidelines, requested my membership fee back. That money could be better spent on postage, actually SUBMITTING MY WORK.

This, of course, was a strange and foreign concept to a bunch of “serious” writers. You know, the ones who spend most of their days “working” on their writing, although from what I could tell “working on it” to them consists of drinking, talking about writing, and taking pictures of themselves sitting in front of the computer looking “thoughtful.”

Well, they (grudgingly) refunded my membership fee, and the moderator (who has been “working” –full-time, mind you– on her novel for the last SEVEN FREAKIN YEARS and has about 25,000 words to show for it (about a hundred pages) sent me a pissy little email about how I must not be a “serious” writer and that in the future I should focus more on the areas my “talents” might be appreciated, such as comic books and trashy genre novels. I replied back with “Oh, you mean actually PUBLISHING something as opposed to living in my Mom’s basement and pretending to be an ‘artist’?”

Yeah, something tells me I won’t exactly be getting rave reviews from any of them. Oh, I think I might have spurred some of them into at least considering submitting something, but mostly they’ll stay tucked into the safe world of their little “workshop” and pat each other on the back.

Me? Rejection doesn’t scare me. I have children; when someone strips off their diaper, crawls in your lap with a big grin, and literally takes a giant shit on you, a few people saying “No, sorry, not right for us” don’t bother me at all.


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