If you have the interest and attention span to read this screed, you might click on through to the comments, where you can download the book, if you're the quiet, bookish type.
The Back Story
I wrote the first version of this book soon after I moved to Paris, back in the Last Century. I moved in a ragged circle of arty types (featured in the book, some pretty much directly from life), drank a lot, talked a lot, the whole boho thing. I wrote it in a fever, convinced of my genius, and it was unworthy of both the idea and me. Got nowhere, and deservedly so. Since then it's passed through four versions, each quite different from the previous, with a new title but the same idea (or concept, if you like). They followed the first down the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. This is the final one - I really don't think I could write it better.
The Literary Agent Is Likely A Twat
The people I knew in the book trade back when Helium was published (the little book that changed my life) are all either dead or retired. I need an agent to get this on a publisher's desk. To get an agent you first have to research those who claim to be interested in the type of book you're submitting. Then you make a submission by email, following specific guidelines. They may trash a submission if it doesn't conform to these guidelines. Generally you write a covering letter (what kind of book it is, what it's about etc.), add a synopsis, a short bio, and attach the a sample of the book. Some especially irritating agents ask for an "elevator pitch". This was a thing waaayyy back in the Last Century, and I made a few myself in Hollywood. You have to sell the book in the briefest way possible, which is impossible. But some agents think it shows them to be dynamic and finger-snappy.
Agents aren't interested in books. That's the first thing to remember (they can't write, they're not authors, they're in Sales and Networking). Their first and overriding consideration is their career. They don't want to appear to fail by backing the wrong horse, so they place as few bets as possible, and then only on favourites. Risk management is everything. I have so much working against me - everything except quality - that no agent is going to go out on a career limb just because I can write. Are you crazy?
I made individually-formatted submissions to over twenty agents (in the UK and the US), who said they were interested in exactly the type of book I'd written.
I haven't heard from any of them. Not so much as one single boiler-plate rejection. My submission was trashed and forgotten after the briefest scan. For whatever reasons, I don't tick their boxes. Fine, times change, and an ugly old white guy isn't at the top of anybody's Christmas list. But the book should be, regardless of who wrote it.
Self Publishing Is A Bust
"Hey!" you say, suddenly inspired, "pretend to be the author they're looking for!" Yeah, no. This has been tried and the ruse never lasts, and only backfires on you. "Self publish!" you cry enthusiastically. "It's the publishing model of the future, today!" And again, yeah, no. Do you know how many books are self-published on the Am*z*n platform? Millions. Thousands of new titles every day - some of them not even AI-generated. You'll only get traction if you already have a social media presence. Then you can shill your book to your followers. I have no social media presence, and I don't want one.
So what, then?
You can get the results of thirty years of literary endeavour free, gratis, and for nothing, right here. I'm not submitting it for your consideration, and to be honest, if you don't like it you can stick it up your ass. I wrote it for me. At least this way it will get read by three or four guys. And if you enjoy reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it, then, as I'm fond of saying, I'll have enjoyed it twice as much as you. Which seems about right.
Oh - and Stephen King? Knock yourself out.
The cover: I did this in about ten minutes. Could be better, but the mood is right. No, agents aren't interested in seeing your cover design idea. Go away.
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