BESTSELLERS & BEST FRIENDS
My book publishing blog, with murder mysteries woven through it.
If this is your first visit, be sure to start with “1. Let’s do it!”
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Roscoe Franks beat me to it. Yep, that’s the prick’s name.
The little shit revealed himself on social media, wearing his flowered visor. He reads this blog, he knew I was going to identify him from the attendance list for the 192 Books writers conference. So he got out thee first.
He took notes and he took my advice way too seriously. He claims he read this blog from its beginning.
He scared the shit out the industry. He wasted the valuable time of New York City finest (but really unfriendly) police.
And he blamed the whole thing on me, saying, “I just did the sort of stuff Brallier advised.”
Roscoe thought he had a really smart idea. He posted, “My strategy was better than any old-fashioned Brallier ho-hum idea.” He’d write murder mysteries about people in the industry who just happened to die. That would grab everybody’s attention. He’d be the talk of the industry. And he certainly was.
(OK, OK, I gotta admit, the whole idea was sort of brilliant. Maybe I’m even a bit jealous.)
Anyway, after his big social media reveal, Roscoe assumed editors would be fighting to publish his mysteries.
WRONG!!!!
Because here’s what he missed. His writing sucks, period. No editor or house wants to publish sucky writing. (Roscoe, I know you’re reading this. And this time I’m enjoying the hell out of being honest.)
Also, people in publishing sort of love each other. Sure, it’s a stupid business in so many ways. You sort of have to be an idiot to spend your life doing it. But once you’ve read even one reader’s letter about how a book changed her life, well, if you’re the publisher or editor or agent or sales rep or designer or production manager or publicist or whoever in that long line of hardworking people who make possible for writing to get from an author to a reader, you get hooked!
And when somebody messes around with, or disrespects, any of the other of us – be it Tom, Orlando, Linda, Harris, or Tony—we get pissed off. There is no way we’re going to publish you.
It’s over, Roscoe. Just go away. Just crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of. And please take that awful visor with you.
As for me, I’m getting back to the publishing this blog should be about.
Tomorrow: T. Berry Brazelton and the joy of an unexpected bestseller