UPDATE: Oh, the drama! Bloomfield now says her agent is back on board. Gosh, maybe she should have waited a few days before posting about how evil feminists scared him off? Nah. Much better to stir up a lot of shit about nothing, huh? Wow. Such public relations. So integrity.
Ah, sweet schadenfreude! Janet “Judgy Bitch” Bloomfield — A Voice for Men’s lying, harassing PR maven — has evidently been dumped by her literary agent.
According to Bloomfield, the agent she’d been working with for more than a year on a novel of some sort has decided to wash his hands of her. “Sadly,” she writes on her blog,
something has happened (I don’t know what) and my agent has decided to drop me as a client and forego any and all income the book might potentially generate. He does not wish to be named or acknowledged in any way.
Bloomfield, naturally, blames feminists. While admitting she actually has “no idea what spooked my agent,” the headline of her blog post declares that “a man decides feminists can ruin him and wisely opts to not engage.”
In her post, she expounds on this theory:
I do not question his decision at all. No one should have to sacrifice their career and livelihood. I have always known resisting the tyranny of feminism would come with a price, but this is my battle and I do not require civilians to go down with me.
Huh. Bloomfield notes at the outset of her post that her agent was aware of her, er, “online activism” and had no issue with it. So what could have sent him scurrying off in another direction?
I mean, what on earth could it be?
Let’s look at some possibilities:
- Her novel is fucking awful.
- She’s a pain in the ass to work with.
- Her agent has discovered that her “activism” consists of gleefully libeling and harassing her opponents and has decided that just maybe he doesn’t want his name associated with such a terrible person.
- Her agent has read some of her blog posts — possibly including her multiple posts attacking rape victims, including the underage victims of Jimmy Savile, as “whores” — and has decided he doesn’t want his name associated with such a terrible person.
- Evil feminists have ordered the agent to stop representing her, even though she is a wonderful human being and her novel is totally awesome and a friend of hers has already created some “beautiful cover art.”
- All of the above, except that last one, because seriously.
I leave you to decide which of these options makes the most sense.
Oh, and while we’re talking schadenfreude, did I mention that my little blog gets more traffic than A Voice for Men?
H/T — r/againstmensrights
My guess would be that, all along, it was a vanity house. They have a con for every mark.
She could have just used Amazon self-publishing.
Yeah, when I first learned of JB’s foray into literature, I thought that if someone chooses to publish her I may have to quit the writing profession AND eat my hat, but crisis averted.
Thanks feminism! 🙂
“I can’t get my book published, it’s the work of feminists”
“My agent doesn’t want to work with me, must be feminists”
“A tornado appeared, feminism is evil I tell you”
Must be easy to not take responsibility and blame everything on something because something bad happened in your life.
I’v known women who are like JB. They say that they love and respect men but when you get to know them they treat not only men but just everyone like garbage. They are very much like ‘Nice Guys’ except they’re ‘Nice Girls’.
Her purposely incoherent novel was rejected by her agent? I’m shocked! Surely he recognized the genius of writing something that no one, anywhere, will be able to understand.
What the world needs is more war books with male protagonists.
Woah! She has children AND a blog…
http://user21791.vs.easily.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/we.png
But does she have a cat she must serve 24/7?
It’s a scene straight out of a horror story.
“Now, Mrs. Bloomfield, I believe we’ve covered the basics of the contract,” the agent continued as he started to pour himself some water. The dry air of winter always seemed to bother him at the worst possible times. Still, the discussion was almost over, and Mrs. Bloomfield seemed willing enough to agree to a basic contract.
Although, she did seem rather intent on the paper lying on the table in front of her. Not so uncommon, the agent supposed, for someone new to the literary business. He shivered slightly. He’d have to remind himself to turn up the thermostat a little after the meeting.
The woman remained silent.
“Were there any other details you wished to cover,” the agent asked.
The woman continued to stare at the paper, and the agent reached for his glass.
“Just one.”
The agent paused, hand outstretched. She still hadn’t moved.
“And what would that be?” The agent shivered again. He really needed to turn up that thermostat.
“I would like to do my own PR.”
“I… I’m sorry?”
“I said,” the woman said as she lifted her eyes from the contract and stared directly at the agent, “I would like to do my own PR.”
It was as if the agent were a mouse staring down a hungry viper. His arm felt paralyzed, stretched out and leaden, reaching for the salve his dry throat desperately needed.
“Mrs. Bloomfield…” the agent began, while the woman continued staring him down. “Mrs. Bloomfield, our firm is well equipped to handle any public relations, advertisement, and planning you might require.”
“I’m well aware of that,” the woman replied, cocking her head slightly but never breaking eye contact. “But I have quite a bit of… experience… in the PR world. I have a blog and a twitter account as well. I believe I can handle it myself.”
The agent felt like his brain had stopped working. His vision was going blurry. Had he blinked at all recently? Had she? Her eyes were locked to his, and in the depths he saw visions of a mad reality, chaos and despair, arcane voices whispering incessently, chanting ancient spells of ruin. “PR,” they cried, “Let the mistress of pain and destruction handle the PR!”
And suddenly the voices ceased, the visions faded, and nothing was left in the woman’s eyes except a deep void of empty darkness.
As if a spell was lifted, the agent’s arm crashed onto the table, nearly upsetting the glass of water.
“We’ll consider it,” he replied.
“Civilians”, seriously?
Does she really go around thinking that she’s engaged in some important, mortal combat style war? 0_o
And that book announcement is just painful to read. I can’t imagine how would the actual novel look.
But I’m a bit amused with with the way it shouts “no girl cooties allowed!”
What with the whole “Men killing other men. Men thinking and feeling men things. And all about men!”
Still, maybe it’s better that there are no icky feeeemales in her book.
You can just tell that all women in her book would be evil, dirty, lying, harpies out to destroy men or get them to sacrifice themselves for them.
From the excerpt:
This was really a quite good character study. It’s a vivid description of the sort of self-important, “rules are for other people” wannabe auteur who’s familiar to anyone who ever took a sophomore-level Creative Writing class. Of course it’s way too exaggerated to work in a serious book, but I could see that character as the center of a comic novel along the lines of “A Confederacy of Dunces”.
If the rest of the book is as good as that, I might consider reading it. Does anyone know what it’s about? Is it an epistolary novel about an amateur internet troll who’s trying to turn their hobby into a paid position?
@kirbywarp
[applause]
Kirbywarp
That scene was great
http://s175.photobucket.com/user/vingaard2/media/applause.gif.html
My guess is that said agent realized that Janet Bloomfield was Ann Coulter-lite (or a poor man’s Ann Coulter) and ran away screaming.
I mean really, one Ann Coulter is plenty.
Isn’t “War Drama” a GENRE?
Extra points for patting herself on the back for writing a war novel with male protagonists and then writing Mary Sue fanfic starring herself as the brave soldier fighting the war of righteousness against the evil forces of feminism.
(I tried to make that as confusing as her novel presumably was, but I think it needs more skipping between tenses.)
Kirbywarp, how come you didn’t use an omniscient narrator and colloquial tense structure? Because you have some standards?
If I wanted a story about white men bearing up under the horrors of war and the evil of not-white men, I’d go see Unbroken. Or the Hobbit.
Probably I’ll go see the Hobbit anyway, if only so I can cast off the shackles of Peter Jackson from about my chilblained feet.
He has commanded my attention for fifteen years, and I shall at last be able to say “No more!”
Yes and no.
War Drama would be a subcategory of Historical Fiction, where the novel is placed against a backdrop of a specific historic period.
However, that’s not JB’s claim. Rather, she’s stating indirectly that her novel is ‘literary fiction’, which is something pretentious twits like to go on about and be the self-annointed arbiters of. Critics are actually engaged in a fairly intense debate about whether or not the distinction has any meaning, or if the criteria for literary fiction would simply be the defining elements of yet another genre. (The key element of lit-fic, for the record, seems to be a certain degree of focus on character over plot–if you have a lot of meandering on about the characters’ internal lives, it’s lit-fic; if you focus on their actions and the events around them, it’s going to be categorized in some sort of genre.)
All of which makes me wonder how Vox Day would feel about JB’s dissing of genre fiction.
Isn’t a book about people at war genre fiction? Especially where the narrator is omnipresent? The idea of writing about something you know nothing about reminds me of http://youtu.be/C_AmdvxbPT8
@friday jones:
I’m an entertainer, not a monster. 😛
@freemage: Ah, “literary fiction.” The sort of snobbish distinction that makes authors like John Updike afraid that, if they write a sex scene that’s actually titillating and arousing and, let’s face it, fun to read, they’ll get dismissed and relegated to “genre fiction” and people will stop buying their books.
So he writes a sex scene, but makes it really disgusting.
In my experience, the phrase “a friend of mine has created some beautiful cover art” is in itself sufficient to make an agent not want to work with you.
She seems less a misogynist and more like someone who just hates everybody. Like an evil distaff Gregory House, only her career isn’t useful to anyone.
JudgyBore-to-English translation: “I suck, and my agent knew it, even though he is fictitious.”
Translation: “I really, REALLY suck. And he really, REALLY knew it. Even though he is really, REALLY fictitious.”
Yup, I was right. She really, REALLY sucks at this. That is pretty much every newbie writer’s mistake right there, all rolled up into one ball of flyblown dung. Doesn’t make the agent any less fictitious, though, because who wants to represent the next Coultergeist wannabe with a shitty war (propaganda) novel? Even if he thinks it’d be a bestseller, which anything by this dingbat is guaranteed NOT to be, she sounds like an absolute horror for a bona-fide agent to have to represent.
Harrumph. I’ve done that, too. Even a full-length novel (still being revised and edited, because actual professionalism). It wasn’t that hard. But then, I’m not someone who thinks she’s committing deathless prose by shitting a hot mess of right-wing drivel onto a page. And I am a feminist! Stop the presses, feminists write male protags too! And (guerrilla) wars! Holy Hannah, there goes Judgy’s Ph.D. thesis, I’ll bet.
Assuming that it, like everything else about her, is not utterly fictitious.