“Verbosity is the decimation of prose by talentless uncouth
morons undeserving of consideration in the literary field.”
The intern, of the intern, of the intern to the secretary of
an editor of a major New York publisher.
This single, rather verbose, sentence was all I received in
a rejection letter for a book I have been working on since the tragedy on
September 11, 2001 entitled “Thou Shalt Not Kill.” The author of this missive
offered the perfunctory Closing Line “Sincerely” as well as the appropriate
spacing to allow for a signature, and a title line. The autograph was a grand
affair emboldened with large loops and scrawl between these loops. The title
line simply stated that the letter had been written by the “Editorial”
department.
This was the rejection that brought me into double digits. Eleven
times I have had this book rejected and which might just be rejected eleven
more times before success. Rejection is not the point but simply the avenue to
publication with a mainstream publishing house. The point was being called an “talentless
uncouth moron.” I admit to being an author of what a close friend has called “almost
absurdist literature.” No real issue there. Those who know me can attest to the
fact that I have a few screws loose, but I am in no way to be considered a
butter knife in a draw full of 300 years old Katanas.
That being said, and my honor properly defended, I would
like to talk about what sat me down at the keyboard this dreary cold day. I have
been reading and relishing a book by a famous astrophysicist. It is written in
a manner that would permit the everyday Joe to understand some of the more
complex ideas and notions of the universe. “Astrophysics for People in a Hurry”
by Dr. Neil DeGrasse Tyson is the book and it is a thoroughly enjoyable and informative
read. I began this book by setting myself a little task; to see how far I could
go until I had to look up a words definition. I made it to page 135 out of a
possible 207 pages. I am somewhat proud of that especially given that is a most
loquacious of words…sesquipedalian coming from the Latin sesquipedalis meaning, literally, a foot
and a half long. Take that you intern, of the intern, of the intern to the
secretary of an editor of a major New York publisher!
I openly admit to a love of words. The more obscure the
better. Being a fan of authors such as Richard Brautigan (my favorite poet),
Tom Robbins, Albert Camu, Spider Robinson (yes I have been drunk on Route 25A, Suffolk
County, Long Island, New York), Stephen King, Robert Heinlein, and Daniel Quinn
emboldens my obscurity and my Roman Catholic upbringing often sets the muse. In
1957 I was handed a comic book about a guy with superhero abilities who came from
another planet as a baby and I was hooked. I remember wondering while sitting
on the floor being told about the pictures and wondering what those squiggles
insides those thought balloons were. Even before I knew what a thought balloon
was.
As I grew older and began reading and ultimately writing, I became
enamored with the placements of these things called words. I liked laughing,
and crying depending on what the story was telling. I remember when I was ten
years writing about a fat kid who did not like being fat, and I also liked
writing a collection of short stories at 48 years old about how it is not okay
to kill.
Thinking back to the intern, of the intern, of the intern to
the secretary of an editor of a major New York publisher I decided to find out
who this quite couth raconteur might be. Having a computer and a decent college
education I tracked down my adversary. Turns out it was some guy working in a
cubicle who answered submissions with the direction to find as much fault as he
could. It is absolutely impossible for an editor at a major publishing company
to read everything submitted. Not even the future recipient of some big writing
award who got his start reading Superman comics.
