word from the spitz

[adelaidesean]

Here's Eric Spitznagel, of Vonnegut's Asshole fame*, on the act of shopping a novel to publishers, "a harrowing and scrotum-clenching process" that he and I are both undergoing this week

"If there's one thing I love about this business, it's the never-ending evaluation by your would-be financial benefactors. For those of you unacquainted with the literary field, it's an exercise in self-abasement. Writers are paraded before publishers like hookers at a Nevada whorehouse. They examine us with leering, bloodshot eyes, as they try to determine if we're worth the $100 for a handjob. And then comes my absolute favorite part, the inevitable skeet-shooting of your creative self-esteem. Remember that guy or girl in high school who shot down your clumsy romantic advances, making you feel like an insignificant worm with just a bemused arching of their eyebrow? Well, take that emotional pain and add a layer of "Oh shit, how am I gonna pay the rent?" Welcome to my world, friend."

Yowza! Sounds a lot more exciting than it really is, but captures the emotional truth of the worst days in this business.

Today, btw, is a good day.

* Currently on hiatus, alas. You might remember his Authors and Their Assholes series from a while back, to which I nerdily contributed.