Dear agent (written with the confidence of a mediocre white man)

Dear agent…

Written with the confidence of a mediocre white man

Dear agent,

Forgive me for the generic address. I don’t know your name but I’m sure that you and the rest of the publishing industry will soon know mine.

I have a book that you need to represent. I know it’s everything you’re looking for. It’s unique and universal at the same time which I know is a rarity. It touches on the great philosophical issues of our time in depth but with a light touch, taking the reader on a journey - both physical and metaphorical. It will leave the reader uplifted and ready to seize the day.

I’m sure it will sell in huge numbers and make us both rich. I look forward to the partnership we’ll have togther - the parties, the dinners, the trips to LA and New York. I’ll have a pied a terre in Paris from the royalties. The book will be so lauded that Brexit won’t apply to me and they’ll welcome me in France with open arms.

I’ll spend part of the year there, sipping coffee and eating croissants in Montmatre where I’ll write the sequel. You’ll fly over for editorial meetings . It will be grand.

My book is the kind of book that will be front and centre in both Tescos and Foyles. It’s the book to bridge class, gender and generation gaps. Book clubs will rave about it, production companies will buy the film rights, the BBC will turn it into a mini-series and I’ll be on Woman’s Hour talking about the issues that it raises.

I can’t wait to hang out with you on the filmset in Prague. I know we’ll be the best of friends.

I look forward to meeting you soon in the Groucho Club for dinner so that we can talk about the future of our collaboration. i’ve booked a train for next Wednesday. I presume you’ll take care of the dinner reservation?

See you soon,

your future bestselling author.