Today I’ll share another letter sent to an author in the hope that I might get a blurb. Asking for a blurb can feel like begging, but that’s only because it is. Part 1 was Tuesday, and though I still haven’t heard from Mr. Auster I think we should carry on. And so, part two…
Dear Mr. Pynchon,
Would it be ungainly of me to say that you are my favorite writer?
I am writing to ask if you might be interested in reading (and possibly blurbing) my book, Numb. It will be published by HarperPerennial in August 2010. Numb is the story of an amnesiac who can’t feel pain, his accidental rise to fame, and his pursuit of his past.
I’m sure you know the value to a debut author of a kind word attached to a well-known name. If you were to extend such a courtesy I would be forever in your debt. Few authors are as well-known as yourself, and fewer still have the fanatic fan base which you inspire. However, this brings me to a topic I hope you don’t mind me raising. I am concerned that you are over-exposed. This stems from two sources: the breakneck pace of your publishing history and your constant presence in the media limelight.
First, I don’t know if you are aware of it, but you barely let one loaf cool before you pull the next from the oven. Inherent Vice trampled on Against the Day‘s heels which trod upon Mason & Dixon which tribbled Vineland which thraggstoned Gravity’s Rainbow that truglaugged The Crying of Lot 49 what slugwormed V. All this in only forty-seven years. Mr. Pynchon, please slow down. We need to catch our breath.
Second, have you heard the one about the narcissist’s parrot? Its cage was a fucking mess, and it was half-starved to death, but it still wouldn’t stop talking about itself. My point is: let someone else get a word in, will ya? You’re an amazing talent, and you’ve written more about, well, everything, than most authors could do in ten lifetimes, but do you have to do so many interviews? Do you really need even more face time on Leno? Wasn’t dating Oprah enough, did you have to sit in the audience every day for six months just to wave copies of your books at the camera like that? Thomas, enough.
Please let me know if you would like me to send you a copy of Numb, and thank you so much for your time.
PS. Please stop calling me.