A publisher that I’d met at a party once asked me,

“Would you like my honest opinion on your work?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“It’s worthless,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. “Please, tell me anyways.”


Mr. ———,

So that you never send us another manuscript, let me offer a list of reasons why we’ve rejected ‘Buried Alive,’ your — ahem — so-called book, beginning with its cover:

Regarding the cover art: I’d rather watch dirt being shoveled on my face from the bottom of a dank, lonely grave. Buried Alive is an apt title — as it will be. Your chosen title has been used over 20,000 times. Try something more original like ‘They Cut Down a Tree for This?’

Your author photo: We sincerely hope that the image on the sleeve wasn’t that of your face. I’d hate to see what the bus  that hit you looks like.

Regarding your intro: It should have been the outro.

Your plot (?) was weighed down by inane ramblings. I was surprised the book had a spine strong enough to hold all Four-hundred and fifty pages of them.

Only the table of contents made sense.

The phrase ‘The End’ was a welcome touch.

The story: Nauseating. Your novel should have been mailed in a self-addressed, stamped, travel and motion sickness bag —  or, better yet, never at all. I’m amazed that the package didn’t set off ‘the Stupid Alarm’ at the Post Office. I placed you pages on the bottom of the Miss Kitty’s litter box. She went in my shoes instead. I’m curious about one thing, when you were a kid and your dog ate your homework, did it die afterward? Your main character’s dull story arc flat-lined seven chapters before he died — probably of boredom. I wanted to scream, “Get a death!”

Your non-dimensional characters are as shallow as your gene pool.

The appendix should be removed — without anesthesia — using a plastic Taco Bell spork.

About you, the Author: I’ve known more interesting manikins — with their clothes on.

Overall quality: My puke just puked.


Name withheld by request

Final Chance Publishing