God Save Us From Brown-Nosing Suckholes
The other day I grew nauseous when I visited the Facebook page of a well-known literary agent. It was strewn with groveling posts from newbies who'd attended one of his writing retreats and threw dignity to the winds as they gamed for his representation. I'll conflate what I saw there to spare you and them: Post 1: 'I just attended a weekend writing retreat by X, one of the world's greatest agents...and over the course of three days, my life was changed forever along with my vision of writing. Back to the first novel I've worked on for so many years, but now with a new sense of purpose thanks to X.' Post 2: 'Two weeks have passed since my return to my novel, freshly recharged and inspired by that great weekend with X. I swear he stands over my shoulder with every word I write. And this has become his book now, as well as mine. Is it any wonder that I call him Mr. Excitement?' Post 3: 'Another month has passed. I and Mr. Excitement work 6...