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The Fart Of Fiction, No. 23

I love long paragraphs, and long farts.

Figure out the facts of life on your own. This was supposed to be about the art of writing query letters. However, after eating raw brussels sprouts, this is stinking something fierce. Rockin' to Elton John's Candle In The Wind and something I would have spun in my prime, instead of walking around like I had a metal load in my pants, but maybe I should query publishers, not agents, and bang my head to WOW and Buck Rogers, Anthrax, the future, just licking the envelope, then writing. Most importantly, put aside more time to write. Don't bother querying literary agents unless you're on your hundredth or two-hundredth book; or you're head-over-heels into some heavy best-smelling genre-shit, a lot like YA fiction, and that's just not me. What turns me on is writing the best story possible. This is an official blog, art and it's the last public fart.


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