This is my third attempt to pen this missive, I fear the technology is infected by some impish mischief. I write with greatest respect for your work and magnificent efforts. Please, before reading this letter, I ask only that you consider my words as those of kindness sent deeply to a person I hold in uppermost esteem and want only for the advancement of your glorious self. When I first sat by my fireplace on that cold November evening, it was with a sense of awe and amazement that I perused the pages and was filled with joy at having received such a timely contribution to our cannon. The subtlety of your prose, your elegant use of superfluous adjectives, the way you underlined whole passages in bold for emphasis, all produced an atmosphere I cannot compare. I was particularly fond of your repeated references to Hollywood movies that showed your engagement with culture in a way that could never be accused of plagiarism. Yet sadly we must say no, as on this occasion we have been sent such a bounty of such literary adventures that we have decided to keep none of it. Correct, this leaves us without a publication for December, but I fear it is the only way to make a fair selection. We wish you the best in all your future endeavours and hope you understand why we leave our pages blank for now.
(commissioned by his satanic majesties department for the quality assurance of torturous fandangoes. ” Transporto nos vestri consilium quod nos mos eat vestri liberi.”)
I have been quiet until this point less from respect than the silence of malice. I reject this blog. This tedious and hackneyed vanity. What foolishness persuaded you that this scheme would do any more than annoy your friends and supply you with more excuses to avoid submitting the sorry crap you produce to any real publishers? The past 41 entries in this diabolical treatise have shown moments of amusement, buried deep amongst lines of predictable babble and overly wordy, repetitive drivel. Your descent into patterns of over trod garbage infuriates me beyond belief, leaving me more than a little bemused. I realise you labour in some deluded hope of redemption and laugh at the sure knowledge in a 1000 years the pulp from Jordan’s 12 volume autobiography will be worshiped as of greater literary merit than anything you are capable of producing in your pathetic lifetime.
So, prepare for the final indignity. I have taken the liberty of assuming full editorial control of the final phase of this project. You shall write the last 10 rejections under conditions entirely beyond your control. Those who read this, please inflict by twitter, facebook or comment direct the exact specification for this author’s hell. Each week he will attempt to satisfy your whims through a requested rejection, tailored to your desire. It is clear he lacks his own inspiration, so provide it him with a little kick. Maybe he’ll rise to the challenge, but I suspect not and think that by the first week of January he will bother you no more. I will complete the damnation in the 53rd week ending this charade for good.