Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Taking a Bio Break
I always thought I'd be the cool kind of writer who'd have a one-line bio. Something like: "So-and-so lives in such-and-such a state." Kind of like, I don't have anything to prove, do not need to mention my previous book, or my so-called honors; just want you to know I live somewhere. Or: "So-and-so lives on the planet. That would be a good one. "This is So-and-So's first novel; So-and-so lives on the planet." Unfortunately, a little voice from the back of my skull starts kicking up dust: "What about that one prize? Shouldn't you mention that one? It's in the acknowledgments, but this is the cover. Mention it on the cover!" And then I just might as well give in and put everything about me on the cover: My address, social security number, place of birth, favorite food, problems with gluten." It's either nothing....or everything. It's the problem with me, in general: I'm not so good at the middle ground. No, that's stupid. I'm going to go with a one-line bio: "So-and-so took a lifetime to write this novel, and nearly died in the process. But So-and-so lives." That about says it.
I am the now buoyed writer of the digital rejection from The New Yorker.
ReplyDeleteI recently received two more of these tiered rejections with no provocation on my part.
It was as if Mr. Paul Muldoon, poetry editor extraordinair, was sending me a digital nudge. Like, "get going, already". Funnily, I had not sent in any new work, as he DID write - "we look forward to reading more when the time comes. The time has now come. I've compiled 6 of my very best works that I shall be submitting next week. And a resounding yes to your response. This is a tiered rejection. I felt that tingle from head to toe, with visions of sugar plum Literary Agents blowing up my phone, after I am ceremoniously published in The New Yorker. Whee!