For my most recently completed mystery novel, I found a literary agent right away. My second literary agent is from a big-New-York-firm. The first agent couldn’t sell one of my books in July 2021 (see COVID-19) and stepped away to become an editor. My current agent operates at a large scale. He seems like a shark, which I appreciate.
When his research assistant looked up “Scott Eubanks Author” in Google, they got this site—a self-published writer out of Northeast Texas who has, frankly, led a remarkable life. So, when my agent sent out queries to the big five editors and their multi-headed imprints, they had a lovely little bio and plenty of quality headshots of a well-respected septuagenarian who collects art.
There was only one problem. This wasn’t me. I’m in my 40’s and in Spokane, Washington, and not aging nearly as well as my Texas counterpart. At first, I was in denial. This mistake shouldn’t affect how editors view my work. But then I realized—despite regular bouts of moral superiority—how deeply and profoundly ageist I am, how ageist a lot of people are. The obvious question would be, “How many books does that guy have left in him?”
I was upset that my own agent didn’t know who I was, but was it really his fault? There are deceased sharecroppers who have better web presences than me. I have a zombie Facebook account stumbling around out there, and I occasionally try to put it down but have been unable to figure it out. Because of the time commitment and my own impulse control issues, I steer clear of social media. I stopped pursuing magazine publication about fifteen years ago to focus on books, so there’s no witty short-short in the Two-Ton Santa Review.
Narcissism runs in my family like heart disease, so I’ve tended to avoid the look-at-me parts of life, but when my agent can’t even find me, that means that editors can’t find me either, and that’s likely part of the problem. So why not, in 2025—as Artificial Intelligence convinces all the Dunning-Kruger people that they don’t need to write or read or think—I start a blog. It’s better than mimeographing a newsletter or starting up a CD mail service.
Thank god no one will read this. It’s better than social media. But, like that girl from The Ring, I’m always writing.
