Favor For Finnegan


As we approach Thanksgiving and the long slide into the holidays, agents everywhere are going to close up shop, leaving the hapless yet earnest intern from Cincinnati in charge of answering the phone and telling people their precious tome is Under Consideration. While the agents swap snarky stories over drinks at the White Horse Tavern or Kettle of Fish about the worst submissions of the year, their slush pile will be growing to the point where they will ponder the cleansing aspects of arson that first morning back in January.

You gotta help jump-start me for the new year. Some of you are new followers, some of you are long time fans, and I appreciate all you do. However, the comments are few and far between on my draft books. It’s the tyranny of WordPress, most likely. The latest keeps popping up in the feed, and it’s quick to savor the eye candy and “Like” a story, because there’s more to read, while getting your own stories and points across. Not to mention your own comments to moderate. And if you don’t check out the banner the first time you check out a site, it’s not likely you’ll come back.

Let’s face it, you’re probably reading this due to dissatisfaction with your job, your family, your friends, your life. Getting on WordPress is an escape, an outlet. This is my offer; a chance to escape into becoming part of a Literary Moment, where a dishevelled and lost soul in the twilight of his later middle age is unexpectedly propelled onto the New York Times Bestseller list and becomes the scary uncle no one from the establishment wants to make eye contact with at all the finer cocktail parties in Manhattan. Wearing an inappropriately large gold chain over a silk Armani t-shirt, and a bespoke leather blazer from Impero, I promise to continue my offensive ways while conducting erudite-sounding discussions about the meaning of it all with an eclectic assortment of failed playwrights and other men’s trophy wives. People will be talking about this for years. And when I finally pass away, I will leave strict instructions to my executors to provide a lurid and horrifying fable that will thrill and delight the public for years, even if I simply have a massive coronary while watching a Cleveland team in the playoffs.

So here is what I am asking. RIGHT AFTER READING THIS, click the links below to get to my project, and let me know what you think. I do promise to take all advice kindly and to the maximum extent possible, because this authorousness is well beyond my natural abilities. It won’t be like Wikipedia, where you can change the d@mn thing as you go, but it will be literary crowd-sourcing at its finest. We’ll make the grade together. I’ll make my millions, and you will be able to say you knew me when and helped me get there.


Most Sincere Thanks in Advance,


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