In very late 2005, I decided, for a variety of reasons, that I would write a proposal for a book on porn. By January of 2006, I had done just that. I sent queries to a wide variety of agents, and, ultimately, ended up with an agent for the book. He was a good guy with a strong background, one of those mensch types who lives in Brooklyn and works for the most part with creative nonfiction writer types. While my original proposal had hung the book on the Bush administration's "War on Porn," my agent at that time suggested this concept was unwise considering Bush would be out by the time the book would be in stores. Instead, we decided the proposal would take a more wide-angle look at Porn Valley and its industry. So, I set about rewriting the proposal, an effort that became extremely protracted, the highlight of which was probably the point at which said agent suggested the proposal was too "bukkake-centric." Over a year later, after I had rewritten the proposal several times, I began to suspect that something was off in my matching with this agent. Whatever the reason, the collaboration was not resulting in a completed manuscript. At that point, in, as I recall it, early 2006, I decided to find another agent, one who, I hoped, would help me create a book proposal on porn that might sell in the market. So, I set about looking for another agent. Eventually, I found one, a passionate, smart woman at a well-respected and well known agency. By this point, I had created a new book proposal with a new angle that was more radical in its thesis statement. To deem it politically incorrect would be an understatement. Relatively quickly, and without too much fuss, my new agent and I worked this new book proposal into a state that both of us liked. And, in October of 2006, out the book proposal on porn went to a slew of editors in the publishing industry, ranging from the big names to the young turks. Then, the responses started rolling in. No. No thank you. And also, no thanks. In my favorite one, a high profile editor at a high profile imprint passed, appreciating the commercial promise of the book but apologizing for his deep-rooted Puritan influences, describing himself as notoriously prudish, and stating he would have to leave this project to those editors whose values were less influenced by the radical Protestant movements of the 16th and 17th centuries. Some editors were interested, but they were unable to sell their peers on the project. After passing through the hands of over two dozen editors, a group described by both agents as impossible to shock, the proposal never sold. Some didn't care for the project. Some didn't believe people would buy a book about porn with so much free porn on the internet. One pronounced I wasn't famous enough. Finally, after several weeks and two rounds of editors, I read the writing on the wall and decided to move on to other projects. After that, I came to the conclusion that while a book on porn might not sell, perhaps a stunt memoir that would take me across America exploring the sex industry and what it says about America would. With a new proposal in hand, I approached a famously aggressive agent. Initially, he expressed interest, but, after a rewrite, he, too, passed. And that's when, after two years of proposals, agents, and editors, I decided to give it all up. Now, it's dark outside, and I'm tired. I'm listening to Cocoon, and I'm trying to figure out what to do next.
