How to publish your first novel...
Every now and then a veteran of the publishing wars will come out with some brilliant advice. So brilliant, its like an exposed million watt light bulb no-brainer that burns the retinas when you look directly into it. Joyce Carrol Oates is one of those writers. Her new Op-Ed in The Onion, "If You Wish To Be A Writer, Have Sex With Someone Who Works In Publishing," states the obvious. Sleep your way to the top.
Oates proves her worth not only as a writer who's been publishing professionally since before I was born, but also as a woman who knows how to treat her editor, especially when she drops off a manuscript to him and then proceeds to gift him with a long, slow blowjob.
I can relate to Ms. Oates. Most of my success has also come from sleeping my way to the top. When I was starting out in writing school back in the mid 90's, I slept with all my professors (minus the guys of course, although I'm sure a couple of them would have loved it). I played it smart and made sure I signed on only with women writing teachers for my course work. If they were married with kids, all the better. That would pretty much guarantee that they'd be lonely and feeling under appreciated by their husbands. Most of the time, they wouldn't even bother to read my work. They were more interested in what I was packing underneath my Levis 501 button-fly jeans. We'd have sex for hours in my dorm room and then, at the end of the semester, they'd give me an A. Easy peasy.
When it came time to publish in the big leagues, I signed with sexy female agents who worked in New York City and who would have sex with me in cabs, trains, buses, restaurant bathrooms, hotel rooms, offices, on bar stools, you name it. I once even had sex on the Circle Line with a prospective agent, but in the end it didn't work out. But soon I was hooking up with major editors at the major houses. The woman who eventually bought my first big novel, The Innocent, (As Catch Can) had sex with me on the rooftop of the Bertlesmann Building on a glass table. Several weeks later I signed a contract worth a quarter of a million dollars. It was the best sex I've ever had.
But then, I decided to go legit. I wanted to publish based on the merits of my writing and not the girth and length of my dick. I stopped having sex with my professional publishing associates. My market dried up. I couldn't get a contract if I put a gun to someone's head. In the end I could see that it was either put out or shut up. So I went back to fucking my way to top. In no time at all, I was enjoying not just a new contract, but new contract(s). I was selling hundreds of thousands of books and having so much sex I had to increase my vitamin intake.
I'm glad Ms. Oates came out and revealed the sure path of success in the writing business. It's time someone had the guts to stand up and admit the nasty truth. If you want to make it in this industry, make certain to fuck your way to success. Because when it comes to signing big book contracts, it's likely your going to get fucked real hard, one way or the other.
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