That There Book...

So if you were kind, smart and savvy enough to spend the summer visiting The Smoking Nun, as I reported day by day about the book project I was writing with and about Liz Derringer, perhaps you've wondered what the hell has happened since I returned to Brooklyn post-Labor Day, yes?

Well, it's all real good, cool cats. I came home with about a dozen chapters in draft form. The way it works with non-fiction is that you deliver just enough to demonstrate that A) you have a story that anyone gives a shit about B) you have the talent to write it and C) you've done enough work to convince an agent that they have something to pitch to a publisher.

We reached out to a number of recommended literary agents and were fortunate to link with two who possess a record of success that are interested in working with us. It has been made quite clear to me that you can write the Holy Bible, but without an agent willing to pitch it, all you've done is pretty much masturbate with a keyboard. It's not intercourse until someone sells it.

At this point, our pitch for "Altered Ego" has been through four rewrites, and at last it's ready to send out again Monday morning. We also have three solid chapters that have been written, revised, rethought, reconfigured and about every other "re-" you can think of.

In the coming week, I have face-to-face meetings with both agents, I will hear them out, and Liz and I then have the good fortune to choose who will ultimately represent us to sell the concept to a publisher, in a time where book publishing is hastily approaching an identical sitch to the music industry—namely e-books, the equivalent of iTunes—where holding a book in your hand will be replaced by a generation that is perfectly content to load 500 books on a digital tablet and flip "pages" the way that we are (all) now touchy-feely with our iPods.

If we are fortunate to find a pub that thinks the book has legs, the process then begins all over again... we would be assigned an in-house editor who will work with me to tailor our memoir to the marketplace. But man, it feels good to take these forward steps. All in good time, with much luck... and timing... and talent... and a damn fine agent. Cross everything you've got, won't you?