Setting the Tone

I recently received an e-mail in reply to an offer of first-class cut-price writing. I have chosen not to identify the company in respect to them being good and decent people who are fighting the good fight (an opinion which I offered them in my original correspondence), but replicate the e-mail verbatim due to its interesting language and train of thought:

“Craig,

Here's some friendly advice.

1) Do not call prospective publishers 'motherfuckers'. It sets the wrong kind of tone for your email.
2) Follow the rules and guidelines, they are there for a reason.
3) Don't make us trawl through your stuff, select appropriate material, we don't have time to piss about.
4) Acting like a prat gets you nowhere.

Better luck next time.

--
Kind regards,”

The line “Better luck next time” cut like a rusty razorblade and I decided the only way to deal with this was to in fact sharpen the pain by a process akin to neurobiological sensory lateral inhibition. I replaced my everyday clothing with the Eastern Tunic and began to light copious amounts of incense before proceeding to meditate, standing with feet at shoulder-width.

Dulling out all externals I focused on the pain until, gradually it turned into a deafening yet life-affirming sonorous hum swimming through my existence. I tuned in to the overpowering reverb, opened a can of Fosters and switched to the Coronation Street omnibus where several people were really in deep, troubling times.

“Better luck next time,” Gail sobbed to Martin, who had just made a failed attempt on her life.

My gold-embroidered tunic suddenly swept out behind me, lifted by an inexplicable sudden gust of wind indoors.