One of the goals for many new writers is to get an editor at one of the big, New York publishers to read their manuscript.  Lo and behold, my first book got just such a read.  Acceptance day was indeed a joyous day.

Some weeks later, I received a letter from the editor.  Not one of those canned letters: “This just doesn’t fit our current publishing schedule.” No, this was a personal letter.  He was quick to say he would not be considering my book for publication. But, he was willing to give me a reason.

It was too unrealistic.  Well, it was a murder mystery, set mainly in New York, and involving a highly prized professional athlete. I quickly scanned the story in my mind looking for this problem. What was unrealistic? Fortunately, the editor was kind enough to explain his objection. And I had to read it three times to come to grips with his objection regarding realism. He said, and I quote, “You have this person talking to his computer.”

Unrealistic?  Perhaps, I should have said, “Yelling at the computer.”   Or maybe screaming at the inanimate, pain in the neck, machine. Maybe a threat to toss it in the rubbish bin if it displayed another 401 error,  or the simple, and very helpful, “Something went wrong.” That might be more realistic.

Was this editor from the dark ages? Had he ever used a computer?  Perhaps the victim in my murder mystery should have been a computer – or an editor.

But this man was the gatekeeper for a large New York book publisher.  And for that particular company, I was locked out.  My central character was too unrealistic. Who could identify with him?

I finally decided that this was a 107-year-old editor who thought computers read holes punched into paper tape and why would I even have a human interact with a machine? Perhaps I should have labeled the book as fantasy.

Scrap that book. Begin on the next book. And let the writer stay silent if he had a beef with his machine.

A true story, highlighting the tough life of a writer.  Care to comment?