Nobody Cares About Jamie

Jamie Janakov's Elements of Bile

2010-10-26T08:53:00.000-07:00

My sustained absence from the internet had made me suspect that either

a) the dog ate it,

or

b) it never existed in the first place,

but no, here it is as faceless and hateful as ever.

My quest to become published is going swimmingly: the rejections are streaming in. I think I might have to sack Alex V and write my own letters to these alleged agent types and tell them how it really is.

More on that later (when I can afford my own ink).

J.J.J.

Jamie Janakov and the Stream of Rejection

2010-09-13T10:48:00.000-07:00

Good news, fans; I have had my first communication from a would-be agent forwarded from AV.

Well, I say would-be: this is technically incorrect on two levels as

a) they are an agent (they have a letterhead and everything)
b) they wouldn't-be (my agent, that is).

That said, the individual (which of the Name Ampersand Name it is I cannot tell - the signature resembles a collapsing tower and is quite mystical-looking) was implausibly nice while conveying total apathy and/or ambivalence for or in the face of my genius. It almost reminded me of that girl that let me down gently that you'll never hear about unless someone publishes part one of my autobiography because it's in part three. I think her name wasn't Ellen.

Said agent was not only interested while they read my work, but is also "sure" I will "soon" find an agent with the "right amount of enthusiasm" for my work. Suck on that, losers, I thought, although, that could mean I will find an agent in three years who thinks it's shit. I mean, who's to say what's right and wrong? Not me, that's fo' sure.

Agents, I have found out, apologise for the delay in getting back to you even if they get back to you about two months before you expect them to; this teaches us two things:

1) they expect to be late
2) they are sorry for their lateness.

In bad news this week, I have begun working part time in the presumably-doomed American Apparel in Shoreditch. This is not a joke. This is my life. And it's ending one shift at a time.

Still, I found a fake Snickers in ASDA, so swings and roundabouts, &c.

More on the Stream as the slow-moving stagnant waters begin to shift through the raiséd sluice. I anticipate efluent, as, I imagine, do most agents upon opening my folder of joy.

Later, haters.

J.J.J.

Jamie Jamakov and the Deathly Silence

2010-09-06T10:44:00.000-07:00

It's always like this when one proffers one's manuscript to the unwashed: that's why I sent it out to agents at the same time. By the time Maurice, Mike or Lily (or any of Alexander's "readers") get back to me with typos I'll be bearded and/or grey like Rip Van Winkle presumably was by the time Penguin published his illustrated memoires.

So, to the approximately one person (no doubt a high-flying agent, probably representing Dan Brown and/or J.K.Rowling) who has visited this blog recently - staying for a grand total of 0 minutes according to Google Analytics - I say this: sorry if there are loads of typos, but my friends are an ungrateful bunch of shit-eating ingrates who'd not recognise fine literature if it crapped on them from a great height, such as mine already has.

More on this later.

J.J.J.

Nobody Cares About Proofreading Jamie

2010-08-24T10:37:00.001-07:00

My literary manager or whatever you call an agent that isn't an agent that reckons they know how to get you an agent has sent the novel or whatever it is (I'm still going with autobiography) to all five of his literate friends to proofread, and early feedback is raving:

"It's like Adrian Mole but with swearing... I'm not sure about the swearing." - Anon.

"You ARE THE MAN, JAN." - Anon.

"I just puked in my mouth and swallowed it." - Anon.

So, yeah pretty positive. But nobody's found any typos yet. What's the point of proof-readers if they don't find typos?

I must have left at least one in. In fact, I KNOW I did - it was deliberate. I definitely didn't just find it after I sent it to AV to send on to them.

#FML

J.J.J.

Nobody Cares About Publishing Jamie

2010-08-17T06:43:00.000-07:00

Right, suckers,

You ignored me for the entire duration of my previous blog's incarnation. And while this is technically the same blog it now has one of those things I'm told make blogs readable or desirable or persuadable or something:

a FOCUS.

The focus is this.

This is the focus: the blog is now a cheap (free, in fact) marketing tool used specifically to promote my upcoming novel, currently in pre-production (i.e. I have no printer ink) on my computer, awaiting a reply from a prospective agent I sent it to, an old acquaintance and former boss of mine, Alexander 'thesvenhunter' Velky, who used to be my boss and editor at Playlouder, until he crash-landed that particular craft into the junkyard of the post-dot-com-boom some few summers ago.

But I have a novel, he has spare time, and he's only charging five percent, so I've sent him the first draft of my autobiography/novel:

Vanessa
Or
How I went mad and upset a lot of girls
by
Jamie J. Jankov

It's been a long time coming and I know die-hard Jamie J. Janakov fans will be excreting fluids from most of their orifices at the notion of a published article turning up on their shelves at, for example, ASDA, but for now all I can say is:

Watch this space.

This one. Right here. Just anywhere on this page really.

Later, hater.

J.J.J.

Nobody Cared

2009-01-14T11:43:00.000-08:00

Nobody cared about me so much that I killed myself.

You're all to blame.

Anyone who wants to contact my corpse can do so here: jamie.janakov (at) googlemail.com