Synopsis:
Hotshot literary agent Henry Richmond Pendel knows how to find the next big thing and is even better at selling them. But a perfect career becomes increasingly disconcerting as he begins to feel like he’s being watched. There are rumors of a boogeyman in publishing, a rejected writer who has cracked and started killing off writers.
When Pendel’s star clients turn up brutally murdered and unsolicited queries become more and more frantic, Pendel must decide whether to act out of safety for himself and his clients or to capitalize on the attention. Is it worth a few more casualties if it means inking a few seven-figure deals?
Part slasher and part scream at the publishing industry, Michael J. Seidlinger, the master of psychological terror, offers a brutal new take on the relationship between art and commerce. On Submission is full of villains, where some harm with a pen and others with a knife.
Review:
If I were to sum up Michael J Seidlinger “On Submission,” in a word, it would be unhinged. Full-blown, blood-in-the-margins, unhinged industry horror. A breakdown in book form. If I were to expand upon that I would say that “On Submission,” is a novel that revolves around the most unlikable, moral-lacking, ambitious and thus dangerous characters I’ve read in a while, and for those who work in publishing, they’re perhaps familiar ones. I am lucky enough to work with authors and publishers on occasion, but by every conceivable notion I am absolutely winging it. I’m really quite unfamiliar with the world of agents and editors and publisher’s marketplace. Let me tell you, “On Submission,” is a baptism by fire and ink. Were it not for Seidlinger’s stellar writing and insane plot mechanics, I’d perhaps wonder if this one was sold, edited and published under duress… Lane Heymont, blink twice if you need help. Short, sharp, bizarre and brilliant, “On Submission,” is a scathing autopsy of the publishing industry, and I delighted in it. It’s coming from Clash Books October 7th.
We follow a budding author named Alexander Moyer. He, like every author I suppose, wants success, acclaim, validation, and a seat at the table, and believes that his best shot lies in securing representation from Henry Richmond Pendel at Cooper Willis Endeavor. He queries, and receives the most generic of generic rejections. He becomes obsessed. E-mailing, dm-ing, you name it. Despite his relentless efforts, Moyer can’t seem to gain and retain Pendel’s attention, and decides to pursue other options. Bloodier options. Eliminatory options. J.D Church is Pendel’s golden goose, primary source of income, and an alleged sex offender, and neither him nor his completed manuscript are long for this world. Along with the rest of the industry Pendel is shocked by the news of Church’s brutal murder, but is quick to shift into deal-making mode and re-negotiate prices for any unpublished, posthumous works. Pendel, whilst desperately trying to take out a restraining order against Moyer, who is to say the least… unbalanced, must decide whether the safety of his clients is paramount, or whether he prefers the extra zeros on the deals he’s cutting.
Literature to me, as a reader, is full of heart and soul and life. It’s a source of entertainment, catharsis. It facilitates this wonderful community I’m a part of, and I love forcing great books down the throats of my unsuspecting friends. I was never quite as naive to believe that publishing is sunshine and rainbows, having heard quite the opposite from writer friends, but following “On Submission,” which (albeit somewhat satirically) showcases the industry at its most heartless and mercenary, my perspective has genuinely shifted some. Writing, in its essence, is a profession of vulnerability and heart, but the publishing machine as depicted in “On Submission,” is very much devoid of both.
Seidlinger does not offer us a glimpse of hope or redemption, beyond perhaps the implication that publishing is tough for almost every author out there. There is certainly no triumphant “write what you know,” epiphany or heart-felt acceptance letter though. Instead, with the clarity of someone who understands the nature of the industry they’re in, “On Submission,” posits that to write professionally is no longer simply a creative process, but an invitation for and endless dance with rejection, obscurity and self doubt. “On Submission,” represents writing not as lonely, but as commodified, procedural and shared. Agented. Edited. Hell, reviewed. Gone is your traditional tortured poet.
Michael J. Seidlinger’s “On Submission,” is a glimpse into a world in which success is less about talent than who you’re mates with, where humanity is impractical and sanded down in favour of sales, and thus, where naturally, ambition can rather easily metastasise into violence. Lots of violence. Like, so much violence. For me, as an observer rather than an inhabitant of the publishing industry, I felt like I was pressing my nose against the glass… although I have a hunch that those who write, or worse, submit, will find some solidarity amongst the horror.
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