Comrades:
Writers are people of great optimism. I myself am a man of great optimism. I believe in integrity, honesty, and fair play. So it pains me to stand before all of you with this pronouncement.
Our industry practices none of these virtues.
Literary agents tell us they read our queries. This is a lie. They only read queries they solicit. Or queries from famous people. Or friends. Or those with giant social media platforms. Or those from dark-eyed innocent young things who don’t know any better than to be entertained by sleazy leering middle-aged creeps whose sole interest lies not in the manuscript but, shall we say, elsewhere.
Teachers tell us they can teach. Coaches say they will coach. They tell us they can get our manuscript over the finish line, all for a hefty fee, of course. This is a lie. They have nothing to teach us. The most insulting scam of all is the “coach” who wants to refine your query letter. The one that never gets read. No one can learn to write anyway, any more than you can learn to sing. Actually you can learn, but getting someone to listen is another matter. And everything worth learning is right there at your library under How To Write. Or on the internet. Or with your local writing group.
We’re told to submit. Submit to quality literary journals. Submit to writer retreats. Submit to contests. Submit submit submit. It only costs five dollars. Or fifteen dollars, or forty-five dollars, or…
I had a friend who, this year, budgeted a thousand dollars for submission fees. I believe she has exhausted her fund. It got her nowhere. Nothing happened. Except the money’s gone, of course.
Comrades, does this not enrage you? Is this a fair or honorable way to treat a fellow apprentice? Or any of us? No, I tell you!
We, the writers of the world, will not take it anymore. We will tell each other the truth. We will stand together against Capital. We will not pay one more penny to a corrupt, lying, unscrupulous group of has-beens and never-wases and creepy money-grubbing insiders who grin and lie and tell us all along that they serve a higher power. Art.
Art my ass.
So are you with me, Comrades? Will we stand together on this hallowed day of liberation? Shall we join as one great body and declare ourselves free? Yes, I say! Yes!
WRITERS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com