A footnote about Jodi Reamer

I really should edit this into my last rant from a few days back. But I think Jodi Viper- uh Reamer, deserves her own entry.

What is an agent? Well an agent is basically an attorney, specifically a commercial litigator. My cousin and his wife are both commercial litigators who work for a firm on Lexington Avenue- a fuckload of money and prestige if you’re lucky to work in that zip code (especially if you’re prostitute). Commercial litigators speak the necessary legalese to draw up contracts and do negotiations. They spend very little time in an actual courtroom.

But believe it or not, they make more money when they go into representation. Actors, singers, dancers, artists, and athletes agents are all attorneys. These agents are real bloodsuckers (pun intended) who are only interested in getting their commission, be it 10%, 15%, or 25% of whatever their client is going to get paid. For 14 years Jodi Reamer has been a part of Writers House, LLC, one of the oldest and most prestigious literary agencies  in the business (located right here in NYC, 21 West 26th Street). If you’re a greenhorn and need a rep, it’s highly recommended, but don’t expect anything. These people are elitists and are only interested in what makes THEM the most money.

She has a couple names besides SMeyer under her belt that I recognize: Bruce Campbell, If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a “B” Movie Actor and Jennifer Crusie, Welcome to Temptation. Now if you love The Evil Dead and Brisco County Jr. as much as I do, then you know Brucie is one of the Olympian gods of B-movies. Everybody knows him from something, his movies, short-lived/failed sitcoms, and recurring role on Hercules. His first auto-bio was phenomenal. He was hilarious, honest, self-depreciating, grateful, wistful, and tells it like it is if you’re a wannabe actor or filmmaker. Reamer knew it was an instant sell. Maybe not on the NYT bestsellers list, but a cult hit nonetheless.

Now I know little about Crusie, except Mom bought her book Welcome to Temptation (she likes the romantic crap) and when she was done she let me have a go. Aside from me being sick and laughing a whole bunch, I could see why this too was a sell. Sophie Dempsey is a Mary Sue. Sexually repressed (a string of horrific boyfriends and fucked-up sexcapades), cute, smart as a whip, down-to-earth, and a terrific mother figure she comes into the town Temptation as a screenwriter (couldn’t afford college but so inexplicably gifted) with her hippy-dippy baby sis Amy to film what is tantamount to a soft-core porn flick. In she meets super-de-duper Gary Stu, Phin Tucker. University grad, owner of the town’s bookstore, mayor, major beefcake, and single dad of the cutest little girl who takes to Sophie in an instant. Did I also mention that his former MIL is the richest woman in town who wants to control everything through her ex-SIL and will stop at nothing to keep Sophie and Phin apart? Oh yeah and he practically fucks her right in the living room not 48 hours after meeting her.

Of course WTT was a sell. It parlays to every 25 to 40+ woman who hates herself, because they can identify with Sophie (mostly due to the fact that they’re social failures who typically redirect all the blame on the guy when the “relationship” goes down the shitter). While she has a “personality” it’s bland, and I’m sure every woman has an embarrassing teen sex story to tell. But why in hell would you run screaming from the sexiest thing in town who wants nothing but to chain you to his bed and fuck you through the floor (oh, and that shower “sex scene” was disgusting because who could fuck with all that mildew on the curtain)? The only thing worse than that was Hands: An Erotic Romance by W.H. Bossert, but that was plain insulting (and obviously published through POD).

So if you’re an anti-Twatlighter or a frustrated writer who can’t sell their 44th manuscript for dick, you now have an idea of what you’re up against.

The world has been invaded by idiots. Or were they always here?

How a mistake led to a best-seller

WSJ: The Death of The Slush Pile

Think I'm lying Twifucktards?


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