I write in reply to your blog post about your pitch session at the Austin Writers League. (At the request of the agent mentioned in that piece, I am not linking to it now.)
You've queried me in the past. [I'm sure I must be rejection #something in that long list you have. I didn't actually try to find what you said about me.]
I thought you were a good writer. You didn't happen to be writing books I wanted to take on, but that doesn't mean I thought you weren't good.
And you and I agree about the insanity of pitch sessions at conferences. You're right that asking someone to describe their writing, rather than just show you a page is nuts. In fact, I couldn't agree more.
If only, if ONLY, you'd left it at that. I would have cheered you on as a comrade in arms in the War On Pitching.
But then, you must have let your evil twin out for a spin. Is there any other explanation for your casual dismissal of Liza Dawson Associates (an agency respected by the entire publishing industry) and the agent you were meeting with?
If it wasn't your evil twin, you must believe it is not only acceptable, but witty to comment snidely on a professional woman's appearance and attire. Perhaps in your day (you do after all describe yourself as 'old') it was, but let me assure you, that day has passed. You can certainly do it, but women have found their voices (that was sometime in the 70's in case you weren't paying attention) and they have this cool new thing called social media that works like a megaphone. You can say whatever you want, but they're going to respond with a volume unlike anything you've ever heard before. And they are going to call you to answer for this unseemly behaviour.
There is a much quieter sound now as well: the sound of a thousand doors closing. One of those doors is mine. Up until yesterday when I saw your blog post, I would have read and carefully considered a query from you. Like the agent you so snidely dismissed I too read all my queries (and don't remember individual ones when asked about them weeks later at a conference.) As I mentioned above I think you're a good writer.
But now, your name is flagged as "divert" by my spam filter. You've joined the list of writers I won't ever hear from again.
This won't end your publishing career. It may even give you some notoriety you can trade on for a while. But is this really the writing you want to be known for? The snide digs and curled lipped derision that only highlights what you're truly feeling? Rejections sucketh mightily, verily it does, and assuaging that pain by throwing stones at the person doing the rejecting might feel good in the short run.
But when you throw stones these days, all you do is provide return ammunition for your target. You're about to find out what that feels like I fear. I'm sorry to see this happen because good writers aren't all that easy to come by. Unfortunately for you, I prefer my clients to be good writers and good people. One out of two is not a passing score.