Inquisitive students sometimes asked what my nationality was. When I said Italian, some asked if I knew anyone in the Mafia, especially when The Sopranos was at its height.
Sigh.
To my knowledge, I do not and never did know anyone in the Mafia, although I suspect that my father knew a few back in the day. I don’t think we went to Ernie’s barbershop because he gave great haircuts or because he was my namesake. I believe it had something to do with the betting taking place in the back of the building.
Anyway, the you’re-Italian-so-you-must-know-Mafia train of thought inspired me to write the following query letter:
Dear Publisher,
First, I want to assure you that just because my surname is Italian, I am not a member of the Mafia. I would never inflict that kind of pressure on you to publish my book because I am sure you’ll be a good fella and do it without a big fuss. You seem like a pretty nice guy who knows what’s what.
My being published would make my Uncle Tony very happy. He has big plans for me. He wants me to write a screenplay for a movie about the trash compacting and olive oil businesses. You know: immigrant makes good. It would make my dad happy too. His job took him to some place called Super Max, which I think is a big store out West. And my mom had to go back to Italy to tend to Uncle Michael in Corleone.
So Uncle Tony got people to help write the book, but I am the author. I was surprised it turned out to be 100,000 words since I could only do the first 100. My writer friends told me it was brilliant though, and you can turn it into a series. We sent it to an agent, but he didn’t like it at first. But one day Uncle Tony, and Uncle Paulie and Uncle Vito visited this agent and twenty minutes later—free ride! Uncle Tony really has a way of getting his point across quickly.
We decided we didn’t need an agent though. Especially since he disappeared. If I don’t get this book published, Uncle Tony is going to be really mad. I don’t like to see him mad, especially since he gave me that nice new Louisville Slugger I like to keep in the car, you know for protection.
Uncle Tony is also my Godfather and he told me I had to make my own bones, I mean take care of my own business. He told me not to whine like a little soprano. He said you were a reasonable man, and if I talked to you nice, you would capisce the whole situation.
I appreciate you taking the time to read this query. Publishing my book is an offer you just can’t refuse. Ha! Ha!
Sincerely,
Vinny Bacalla
PS I might be a little late for a face-to-face meeting. Sometimes Uncle Tony wants me to drive Johnny “The Hatchet” Bonomano down to the courthouse. I think he has grand jury duty or somepin’.
I’m kidding.
Of course.
The Q-View 