Tag Archives: London

A Letter To a Literary Agent


My writing 3

My letter to a literary agent!

I remember when I was just like you. A struggling writer who wanted the whole world at his/hers fingertips, trying so desperately to make these gatekeepers (Literary Agents) read – enjoy and publish their works.

There was a time when I wrote a piece of material which I loved so much, it was a screenplay, one of the best pieces of fiction I have ever written and to this day I hold so close to my heart as child I gave birth to an ultimate idea of pure delight.

Well, I finished it; made sure I rechecked and rewrote the story until it was a machine that did its job well. So I tried my hardest to send it to Literary Agents from London to New York, most of them didn’t even reply, so did with…

“We’re really sorry at this time but we are not taking on new clients at this time, thank you for writing to us.” In other words… PASS!

I even received a reply from a literary agency in London; first I have to explain that my writing in this certain piece of fiction was rather violent and detailed within the gory. But this certain agency sent me a reply stating “We love the overall idea but we do not take on non-fiction stories.”

I had written a piece of fiction so well they believed that it was non-fiction. For a long time I had a chip on my shoulder because I believed that the main rule of writing fiction was to make it believable, I thought I did my job, I thought this was the name of the game. But no other nibbles after that.

I was destroyed by their overstepping; I cried and had trouble sleeping. Yes, I continued to write but I lost faith in the whole writing industry. This was at a time when I was coming out of my mental illness the first time so my disappointment from the rejection letters didn’t help me stay stable for long.

I broke, again.

It was only when I came back to reality for a third time I had finished writing my first novel The Diary of an Immortal (Which I have right here on my blog.) I let my demons take over but for a price to use my mind for this purpose, to write material that has never been seen before.

But I also learned that Literary Agents will not publish works from a writer that has no real following to their work, publishing cost money and if no one knows who you are, no one will buy it, making your work pointless.

So I came up with another idea which might make my work get to the Gatekeepers much easier than writing to them individually and bothering them. I know of certain blogs success so perhaps one day one of them may stumble upon my presence and make my dreams come true.

So for now I will keep writing until I have all the followers I can lead into fantasy.

So please just click on the follow button, if you do it now, you will get rid of all of my blog posts and you can take my place as the best writer online. (Jokes.)

Keep your pens busy!

Alex

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My Nightmare – Written by Alexander Kennedy


Alex had a nightmare the night before he left for the asylum. He came straight down stairs and wrote it down. It may be short but here it is for you to read. Monster V’s Humans! Who will win? Like, comment and subscribe.

My Nightmare

In a spotlight I stood. Made to watch; whatever it was, I was already scared. The darkness that surrounds the light I was safe in was rather intimidating to look into or think about stepping forth towards. All I know is I must stand and stay, good dog.

My living room, the fear begins to strip away and then the wallpaper does, my defences go straight up, stand still, Tyrannosaurus-Rex rules. Under my living room wallpaper is the skin and bones of everyone I love, slabs of meat flop from the mush wall. Opened eyes stare, the droplets of blood sprinkle like hundreds and thousands. Kass, my evil side stands at the other side of the darkness within a lukewarm-green light, hovering there in a black trench coat and some shades on, his head on a tilt as he smiles. He holds up his cupped hands of hearts.

My safety light expands to reveal my street. Mounds of cocaine and hills of marijuana are stacked on street corners. I fall to my knees; somehow I have beaten within an inch of my life and I am made to watch all the people who have let me down.

The policemen have no eyes; their picket sign said “Kill him on sight.” The people who bullied me huddle in a group, their picket sign states. “Do it again, he’s a pussy!” And behind, everyone else whom has let me down somehow for their benefit or gain through life, hurting me and not batting an eyelid.  Their arrays of picket signs scream “Monster!” “Burn the bastard!” “He doesn’t feel, so why not one more time.” “He loves me, I love him not.” There were some more but my eyes become heavy with tears, I had to close them and think.

I think of myself as a monster or more evil, reflecting within my thoughts I have watched and only one name rung out. Kass…. my evil side.

I open my eyes, I see black boots. I tick my sight upwards, there he stands; a hand out, smile stretched and frown as a crown. The sun is giving the moon the finger over his shoulder.

Time to fight; Kass stands in front, protecting me. He raises his hand to the sky and with a snap of his fingers, the moon swallows the sun. All of my enemies look to the sky in an awful amazement. Monsters crawl from the gutters, behind shadows; all different species. One is a hairy wolf/lion beast with a snake face, jerky movements. Another looks to be a purple dragon covered in spikes, kneeling to me on a car roof. And the rest are blurs and shadow creatures. They all form a line in front of me, my unnatural army. Kass unravels his huge blacken wings.

Roaring’s and screeches ting the ear. They show foot and head for battle with the naturals.

I wake up. Thank you.

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Filed under Fiction, Writer, Writing, Writing #2