Wednesday, April 15, 2009

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Hubris

I would be really, really good at marketing my book, too
Let’s see. How hard can writing a query letter to a literary agent be?
Dear [Agent name],

I chose to submit to you because of your wonderful taste in [genre], and because you [personalized tidbit about agent].

[protagonist name] is a [description of protagonist] living in [setting]. But when [complicating incident], [protagonist name] must [protagonist's quest] and [verb] [villain] in order to [protagonist's goal].

[title] is a [word count] work of [genre]. I am the author of [author's credits (optional)], and this is my first novel.

Thank you for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best wishes,
[your name]

Right. Let’s do this.

– I –
Dear [Agent name],

I have chosen to submit my work to you due to your impeccable taste in anonymous financial blogs, and because you seem to be careless enough to have opened this e-mail rather than deleting it unread. I like the combination of flawless aesthetic judgment and complete ignorance of proper time management principles this indicates. I feel we could work together well.

Albert Nothnagle III is a rich, brilliant, staggeringly handsome investment banker living and working in New York City in the early years of the 21st Century. Albert’s life seems complete, with a devoted wife, impossibly talented and accomplished children, and a series of stunningly beautiful Ukranian mistresses gracing the silken sheets of the impeccably decorated bedroom in his capacious pied à terre. But when jealous coworkers and zealous federal prosecutors go after Albert on trumped-up charges of insider trading and naked jaywalking, he must rediscover his inner Ayn Rand and humiliate his detractors in order to secure an invitation to deliver the keynote address at Davos.

NOTHNAGLE UNBOUND is a 70,000-word work of wishful thinking nostalgic financial fiction. I am the author of several unpublished erotic letters to Gisele Bündchen, and this is my first novel.

Thank you for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best wishes,
The Epicurean Dealmaker

Nah. No-one would would believe such a fairy tale. Investment bankers can’t afford Ukranian mistresses nowadays.

[ ... ]

– VI –
Dear [Agent name],

I chose to submit to you when I saw your picture on your agency’s website wearing that godawful toupée. Anyone that insensitive to ridicule should find marketing my book a cinch. I anticipate a close working relationship.

Apu Nahasapeemapetilon is a plucky, cheerful, staggeringly intelligent financial engineer living and working in London, England in the latter years of the first decade of the 21st Century. Apu’s life seems complete, with a devoted cat, adorably geeky coworkers and friends, and a complete collection of bootleg Battlestar Galactica episodes never before aired on television. But when the global financial system begins to melt down and correlations across all asset classes converge to one, he must battle his way across a wracked and burning London convulsed with G20 protesters in order to reboot the Amiga laptop at the heart of Morgan Stanley’s global risk management system and, naturally, save the planet.

THE COPULA IDENTITY is a 80,000-word hodgepodge of Mandelbrot distributions and engineering suspense, enlivened by several original curry recipes. I am the author of the industry standard binomial-lattice pricing model for Star Trek memorabilia, and this is my first work in English.

Thank you for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best wishes,
The Epicurean Dealmaker

Hmm. Too esoteric? I like the idea of the curry recipes, though.

[ ... ]

– XXIII –
Dear [Agent name],

I am sending you this e-mail because you are the last name on my list. I expect a very large advance check.

The Epicurean Dealmaker is a sour, misanthropic, staggeringly verbose anonymous blogger who claims to live and work in Manhattan during the present day. TED’s life used to be complete, with fawning subordinates, more money than God, and the unalloyed admiration of Fed Chairmen and MBA students alike. But when the heads of most major investment banks decide en masse to shit the bed, he must find some way to monetize the thousands of words he has spewed forth on the internet in order to make payments on the Lamborghini.

INVESTMENT BANKERS CAN’T WRITE is a 120,000-word semi-fictional memoir of a friend of mine who really, really does exist. I am the author of caustic character assassinations and semi-instructional diatribes on the web, and this is my first time trying to write while sober.

Thank you for your time. Don’t fuck with me.

Best wishes,
The Epicurean Dealmaker

I like it. Click “send.”


© 2009 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.