When I arrived at the Romantic Times convention this morning the Beatles' Paperback Writer was playing over the speakers in the Hyatt Regency lobby. This song is such a fixture on oldies radio that it's been relegated to the Muzak section of my brain where it sloshes around with Circle Game and The Sound of Silence ensuring that I never really hear the lyrics. But it was such an appropriate song for the occasion. Thank you, Hyatt Regency, for unconsciously serenading the large trampling herd of aspiring paperback writers here to graze on the hope that we will meet the agent of our dreams and be rescued from the slaughterhouse of unpublished obscurity.
Paperback writer
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
Based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
It's the dirty story of a dirty man
And his clinging wife doesn't understand.
His son is working for the Daily Mail,
It's a steady job but he wants to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
Paperback writer
It's a thousand pages, give or take a few,
I'll be writing more in a week or two.
I can make it longer if you like the style,
I can change it round and I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
If you really like it you can have the rights,
It could make a million for you overnight.
If you must return it, you can send it here
But I need a break and I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
Paperback writer
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