Showing posts with label querying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label querying. Show all posts
Friday, March 27, 2015
Funny Thing Happened On the Way to Slowing Down ...
Uhhhh - I got seven queries out tonight. Holy damn.
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Effective Professional Communication: The Approach
To all the people who have to make endless calls, trying to get on executives’ calendars – look, I get it. We all have our scripts to follow. Mine is “time is at an extreme premium” when you call me – and that is not a joke. Yours is “I’d just like to get a few minutes with him to introduce him to our company and what we can do for yours.” You have to do this over and over again with the same unresponsive people, and if you think I don’t know that, you underestimate my ability to recognize your phone number on my caller ID. I know exactly when you call, I know you do it on a repeating schedule. I GET it.
Most of you recognize that I am The Gatekeeper, and you behave accordingly, attempting to schmooze me (pointless) or tell me “He said he’d meet with us” (it worked ONE time, when I was new, and man do I have those guys’ numbers – and they will never, ever get in with my boss, ever) or actually behaving with friendly professionalism (the only viable approach). I entertain these varying gambits with exactly the responses they deserve, always professional, but pretty much hermetically sealed against the jerks who try to get one over on me, and impervious to anything but friendly professionalism. The ones who recognize, we’ve all got our scripts to follow: that, basically, we’re all in this together.
Make it unpleasant for me, and I will return the favor by making “progress” outright impossible for you.
So don’t refuse to speak with me when, instead of asking you “would you like to go to voice mail?” I say “Is there anything I may do for you?”
Don’t fail to realize that, if you want calendar time, I’m the person to ask for it; not my boss.
Don’t try to bypass me by snubbing me with a “Just put me in voicemail” and then leaving a message for my boss which (a) starts out with about twenty seconds of egregiously badly recorded music and (b) then segues into “I am so and so and I am FIGHTING to get a meeting with you.”
It turns out that the music was the Fighting Illini fight song – actually a commendable-ish piece of personalization, not that it actually changes the calendar any – and the “fighting” message was an allusion to that. So, okay, so he didn’t intend to make me look bad.
But this guy has been calling for a long time now, and my boss and I both recognize the number when it comes in now, and he’s never tried to talk with me, never left a message, and – cute as the personalization is – it doesn’t TELL US ANYTHING.
If he’d ever once actually attempted to speak with me like a all-growed-up professional, he could have introduced his company and himself, he could have gotten some information to me (and, that way, possibly to my boss – or, perhaps, even someone else more relevant to his needs), he might conceivably have made some sort of progress. Instead, what we have is enough weeks of calls from the same number that my boss and I both know a number is endlessly pinging us – and nothing else. No skin off of us, but it doesn’t make a GOOD first impression. And zero net effect for our fighting friend.
Who, to be honest, isn’t fighting all that hard, and who is strategizing his battle not. at. all.
It’s impossible not to be brought to mind of querying and trying to get an agent.
We all have our scripts to follow, and whether I personalize or not goes by the wayside if I make a lot of noise, without ever conveying the least bit of information ABOUT MY NOVEL. Or even that it is a novel. Or why I think it’s relevant to Agent X, Y, or Z. Or even make it clear that what I am attempting to do is to query something.
I called myself The Gatekeeper above, and would imagine most of my readers who are writers or agents (they do crop up!) would agree, the gatekeeper analogy in querying/publishing does nobody any favors.
But querying is a professional communication, we all agree on that. And to conduct professional communication in the way my fighting foe above has done would be unthinkable.
(Even now, I suspect Janet Reid, Jessica Faust, and hundreds of other agents are/would have to disagree – they probably do get EXACTLY this approach, from geniuses who’ve found the office number, and wish to treat agents to their honeyed words directly, bypassing slush with their pristine and special snowflakes. We’ve heard about it, and there are countless agency sites exhorting that authors NOT call them directly for a reason.)
It is for ME, and for all my wise and wonderful authorial readers, this would be unthinkable. Of course.
It seems so basic to me – yet I have worked in a fairly stereotypical office setting or another for nearly thirty years. Not all authors do, nor could stand to. And so baseline assumptions for effective professional communications are not there. And, given the creative nature of our product, we may think a creative approach is best in getting it out there.
That can work. But even the most unexpected innovations in getting our work out there, in the successful cases, still maintains essential professional respect. It doesn’t involve stalking agents to find out their alma mater and subjecting their voicemail to extreme lo-fi (do the kids know what low-fidelity means anymore, by the way … ?) fight songs. It involves getting attention without demanding it personally and invasively. Maybe by canny support in service of self-published work that stands the test of marketing success and the expectation of future revenue etc. Maybe in the unique voice of an unexpected character, translated into a simple, ordinary query. Maybe in a hundred ways I can’t think of because I am stodgy and dowdy and doing things the old way.
Not by calling incessantly for weeks, with no message.
Not by FIGHTING for time un-earned, while providing no reason it should be given.
Most of you recognize that I am The Gatekeeper, and you behave accordingly, attempting to schmooze me (pointless) or tell me “He said he’d meet with us” (it worked ONE time, when I was new, and man do I have those guys’ numbers – and they will never, ever get in with my boss, ever) or actually behaving with friendly professionalism (the only viable approach). I entertain these varying gambits with exactly the responses they deserve, always professional, but pretty much hermetically sealed against the jerks who try to get one over on me, and impervious to anything but friendly professionalism. The ones who recognize, we’ve all got our scripts to follow: that, basically, we’re all in this together.
Make it unpleasant for me, and I will return the favor by making “progress” outright impossible for you.
So don’t refuse to speak with me when, instead of asking you “would you like to go to voice mail?” I say “Is there anything I may do for you?”
Don’t fail to realize that, if you want calendar time, I’m the person to ask for it; not my boss.
Don’t try to bypass me by snubbing me with a “Just put me in voicemail” and then leaving a message for my boss which (a) starts out with about twenty seconds of egregiously badly recorded music and (b) then segues into “I am so and so and I am FIGHTING to get a meeting with you.”
It turns out that the music was the Fighting Illini fight song – actually a commendable-ish piece of personalization, not that it actually changes the calendar any – and the “fighting” message was an allusion to that. So, okay, so he didn’t intend to make me look bad.
But this guy has been calling for a long time now, and my boss and I both recognize the number when it comes in now, and he’s never tried to talk with me, never left a message, and – cute as the personalization is – it doesn’t TELL US ANYTHING.
If he’d ever once actually attempted to speak with me like a all-growed-up professional, he could have introduced his company and himself, he could have gotten some information to me (and, that way, possibly to my boss – or, perhaps, even someone else more relevant to his needs), he might conceivably have made some sort of progress. Instead, what we have is enough weeks of calls from the same number that my boss and I both know a number is endlessly pinging us – and nothing else. No skin off of us, but it doesn’t make a GOOD first impression. And zero net effect for our fighting friend.
Who, to be honest, isn’t fighting all that hard, and who is strategizing his battle not. at. all.
It’s impossible not to be brought to mind of querying and trying to get an agent.
We all have our scripts to follow, and whether I personalize or not goes by the wayside if I make a lot of noise, without ever conveying the least bit of information ABOUT MY NOVEL. Or even that it is a novel. Or why I think it’s relevant to Agent X, Y, or Z. Or even make it clear that what I am attempting to do is to query something.
I called myself The Gatekeeper above, and would imagine most of my readers who are writers or agents (they do crop up!) would agree, the gatekeeper analogy in querying/publishing does nobody any favors.
But querying is a professional communication, we all agree on that. And to conduct professional communication in the way my fighting foe above has done would be unthinkable.
(Even now, I suspect Janet Reid, Jessica Faust, and hundreds of other agents are/would have to disagree – they probably do get EXACTLY this approach, from geniuses who’ve found the office number, and wish to treat agents to their honeyed words directly, bypassing slush with their pristine and special snowflakes. We’ve heard about it, and there are countless agency sites exhorting that authors NOT call them directly for a reason.)
It is for ME, and for all my wise and wonderful authorial readers, this would be unthinkable. Of course.
It seems so basic to me – yet I have worked in a fairly stereotypical office setting or another for nearly thirty years. Not all authors do, nor could stand to. And so baseline assumptions for effective professional communications are not there. And, given the creative nature of our product, we may think a creative approach is best in getting it out there.
That can work. But even the most unexpected innovations in getting our work out there, in the successful cases, still maintains essential professional respect. It doesn’t involve stalking agents to find out their alma mater and subjecting their voicemail to extreme lo-fi (do the kids know what low-fidelity means anymore, by the way … ?) fight songs. It involves getting attention without demanding it personally and invasively. Maybe by canny support in service of self-published work that stands the test of marketing success and the expectation of future revenue etc. Maybe in the unique voice of an unexpected character, translated into a simple, ordinary query. Maybe in a hundred ways I can’t think of because I am stodgy and dowdy and doing things the old way.
Not by calling incessantly for weeks, with no message.
Not by FIGHTING for time un-earned, while providing no reason it should be given.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
If I Had My Druthers
Please accept my apologies for a late post from Monday ...
Monday mornings that start off rolling are the best beginning for a work week. I had a mental note or two coming in, only a minor glitch or two firing up, and a good, solid four hours of steady work to keep me going in the a.m. There were also two fresh new rejections (both of them expected, so the sting was minor); one on a query sent only yesterday, and one only a couple or three weeks old.
IF I HAD MY DRUTHERS
I honestly wonder, as I consider shelving (as distinct from “drawering”, which would imply entirely giving up hope) Ax____, whether it is right or wrong to do so. It’s hard to be open to the possibility of putting away a work I know is GOOD, even if I have begun to consider that it may not be the work that can launch my second career, but I am trying to allow the idea to be … okay. At the same time, yes, querying is a numbers game and this could just be my origin myth, the tale of the super-author in the making, the cred that makes my own arc as worthwhile as (insert respected/much-rejected author’s name here) – and as Clovis’ own.
That latter is tempting, and honestly I would hardly stop to think about “quitting” (for NOW) on Ax, except that … I feel like I’ve run out of lists to plunder, research resources to take advantage of. Options. I feel like I’ve queried every agent who even mentions histfic without dotting their eyes with little Regency romance hearts or … yeah, mentioning that it’d be nice to see something other than some white European king for a change.
Hilary Mantel did spectacularly well with Wolf Hall and Bringing up the Bodies, but … Hilary Mantel also wasn’t a debut novelist in the first place, and was writing and publishing on a different continent from my own in the second place. She had twenty years’ catalog of performance behind her. She also found a way to write about the perennially-blockbuster Tudors without quite treading old ground. And now she also has TWO Man-Booker prizes to her credit.
Not a platform I can claim to stand on. Though I’ve got a story that not only doesn’t tread old ground, but illuminates a huge swath of the history of the West *and* even some of the very reasons #WeNeedDiverseBooks today, it isn’t. Diverse. And nobody’s heard of Clovis I on this side of The Pond (a *selling* point that gets in its own way, Catch-22 style [an appropriate problem for an author named Major?]). It’s not MG, YA, or NA; there isn’t a single dragon, pneumatic beauty, or magically-engendered neurosis in it. Game of Thrones readers might dig it, but I’m not comping that and don’t have compelling plans to garner that audience nor proof I could.
And but.
And but.
And but.
Ten years I’ve spent with this novel, now. Learning from it and LOVING it, though that may not shine through given my dry and pragmatic statements about killing darlings and it being a product and oh-so-professional detachment. I LOVE Ax and the Vase, it has been both one hell of a good story to be part of, and iet means the world to me. It is a manifestation of something my dad talked about all his life (“somebody should write a book” was a stock phrase in my house growing up), and he died before I ever began to write. I have no doubt he’s rooting for it, and there is a minor, sentimental strain in wishing I could publish a book I know he’d probably have enjoyed immensely on its own merits … and been inexperessibly proud to know I wrote. (Heck, at that, half the dead folks in my family would probably like this book; those who have gone before me gave me the very voice in which it’s expressed, after all.)
I am to this day entranced by the story, to the point that actually feeling it’s ready, it’s finished, is still exciting – just to know I have done this thing, that I made it, I have something to do with something this great.
I’m proud of my work.
Even if I let it go for now, there’s no doubt I’d try to get it out there as a follow up. (It is a prequel of sorts to the WIP; they are as unalike as they are inextricably linked.)
Lord, just thinking and writing about it, I gnash and resist with a fury the idea there’s no agent out there who could (… who would …) do anything with this book. It’s a bloody good read, it’s a ripping yarn.
If only I could find some hidden stash, somewhere else to turn.
In the meantime, I must turn to the WIP. If I have missed some dozens of agents who would do my work proud, somehow or other I’ll find ‘em – and beware, agents.
This isn’t quitting. I’m just turning slightly to one side … for the moment …
Monday mornings that start off rolling are the best beginning for a work week. I had a mental note or two coming in, only a minor glitch or two firing up, and a good, solid four hours of steady work to keep me going in the a.m. There were also two fresh new rejections (both of them expected, so the sting was minor); one on a query sent only yesterday, and one only a couple or three weeks old.
IF I HAD MY DRUTHERS
I honestly wonder, as I consider shelving (as distinct from “drawering”, which would imply entirely giving up hope) Ax____, whether it is right or wrong to do so. It’s hard to be open to the possibility of putting away a work I know is GOOD, even if I have begun to consider that it may not be the work that can launch my second career, but I am trying to allow the idea to be … okay. At the same time, yes, querying is a numbers game and this could just be my origin myth, the tale of the super-author in the making, the cred that makes my own arc as worthwhile as (insert respected/much-rejected author’s name here) – and as Clovis’ own.
That latter is tempting, and honestly I would hardly stop to think about “quitting” (for NOW) on Ax, except that … I feel like I’ve run out of lists to plunder, research resources to take advantage of. Options. I feel like I’ve queried every agent who even mentions histfic without dotting their eyes with little Regency romance hearts or … yeah, mentioning that it’d be nice to see something other than some white European king for a change.
Hilary Mantel did spectacularly well with Wolf Hall and Bringing up the Bodies, but … Hilary Mantel also wasn’t a debut novelist in the first place, and was writing and publishing on a different continent from my own in the second place. She had twenty years’ catalog of performance behind her. She also found a way to write about the perennially-blockbuster Tudors without quite treading old ground. And now she also has TWO Man-Booker prizes to her credit.
Not a platform I can claim to stand on. Though I’ve got a story that not only doesn’t tread old ground, but illuminates a huge swath of the history of the West *and* even some of the very reasons #WeNeedDiverseBooks today, it isn’t. Diverse. And nobody’s heard of Clovis I on this side of The Pond (a *selling* point that gets in its own way, Catch-22 style [an appropriate problem for an author named Major?]). It’s not MG, YA, or NA; there isn’t a single dragon, pneumatic beauty, or magically-engendered neurosis in it. Game of Thrones readers might dig it, but I’m not comping that and don’t have compelling plans to garner that audience nor proof I could.
And but.
And but.
And but.
Ten years I’ve spent with this novel, now. Learning from it and LOVING it, though that may not shine through given my dry and pragmatic statements about killing darlings and it being a product and oh-so-professional detachment. I LOVE Ax and the Vase, it has been both one hell of a good story to be part of, and iet means the world to me. It is a manifestation of something my dad talked about all his life (“somebody should write a book” was a stock phrase in my house growing up), and he died before I ever began to write. I have no doubt he’s rooting for it, and there is a minor, sentimental strain in wishing I could publish a book I know he’d probably have enjoyed immensely on its own merits … and been inexperessibly proud to know I wrote. (Heck, at that, half the dead folks in my family would probably like this book; those who have gone before me gave me the very voice in which it’s expressed, after all.)
I am to this day entranced by the story, to the point that actually feeling it’s ready, it’s finished, is still exciting – just to know I have done this thing, that I made it, I have something to do with something this great.
I’m proud of my work.
Even if I let it go for now, there’s no doubt I’d try to get it out there as a follow up. (It is a prequel of sorts to the WIP; they are as unalike as they are inextricably linked.)
Lord, just thinking and writing about it, I gnash and resist with a fury the idea there’s no agent out there who could (… who would …) do anything with this book. It’s a bloody good read, it’s a ripping yarn.
If only I could find some hidden stash, somewhere else to turn.
In the meantime, I must turn to the WIP. If I have missed some dozens of agents who would do my work proud, somehow or other I’ll find ‘em – and beware, agents.
This isn’t quitting. I’m just turning slightly to one side … for the moment …
Saturday, March 21, 2015
DABDA
There may be five stages of grief - but many of us linger on one stage or another. Denial is popular, Anger is overwhelming, Bargaining is a cruel temptation ... Depression may be more powerful, even, than anger. Acceptance is the elusive one.
I'm considering it right now.
The Ax and the Vase is a great novel.
It's been my teacher and my child, something that ushered me into the world of an author, as opposed to a writer. I'm proud of it, and it's a hell of a read.
But. It doesn't seem to be a a viable product.
It's been a couple of months now since any agent even requested a read, and - good as it is - frankly, I just believe it's got an uphill battle in store in publishing, and ... if my plan is to be published, I have to provide the best possible material.
Ax is ITS best possible self, but it is not a market mover right now.
I haven't entirely decided to retire it; the fact that there are more agents to query is either a problem or a tempation.
But work on the WIP has become compelling, and though my faith in what Ax IS is unshakeable, if I'm not realistic about the industry, I'm not its best steward. And that's what I want to be. So I'm thinking it may be best to concentrate elsewhere. I'm opening myself to that possibility.
Anyone who's read me much knows I'm not very precious about my darling, special work, but they also know how much it means to me to have this consideration on my mind. My commitment to Ax is not minimal, nor is my confidence. But the odds are speaking to me, and I can't pretend not to hear. That would not serve Ax and would also hobble the WIP and the rest of my works.
This way of thinking has come on me a little suddenly - but, thank heavens, it's also coming at a time when my excitement about the WIP is building. I can't say there's no intentional connection there, either. If I have the WIP to sustain my hope, letting go of Ax would be ... not less difficult. But possible.
And so - I am considering possibilities. Feedback welcome, but most of my readers here at the blog have not been beta readers of the novel itself, so I understand if the comments stay quiet or theoretical. :)
Sigh.
I'm considering it right now.
The Ax and the Vase is a great novel.
It's been my teacher and my child, something that ushered me into the world of an author, as opposed to a writer. I'm proud of it, and it's a hell of a read.
But. It doesn't seem to be a a viable product.
It's been a couple of months now since any agent even requested a read, and - good as it is - frankly, I just believe it's got an uphill battle in store in publishing, and ... if my plan is to be published, I have to provide the best possible material.
Ax is ITS best possible self, but it is not a market mover right now.
I haven't entirely decided to retire it; the fact that there are more agents to query is either a problem or a tempation.
But work on the WIP has become compelling, and though my faith in what Ax IS is unshakeable, if I'm not realistic about the industry, I'm not its best steward. And that's what I want to be. So I'm thinking it may be best to concentrate elsewhere. I'm opening myself to that possibility.
Anyone who's read me much knows I'm not very precious about my darling, special work, but they also know how much it means to me to have this consideration on my mind. My commitment to Ax is not minimal, nor is my confidence. But the odds are speaking to me, and I can't pretend not to hear. That would not serve Ax and would also hobble the WIP and the rest of my works.
This way of thinking has come on me a little suddenly - but, thank heavens, it's also coming at a time when my excitement about the WIP is building. I can't say there's no intentional connection there, either. If I have the WIP to sustain my hope, letting go of Ax would be ... not less difficult. But possible.
And so - I am considering possibilities. Feedback welcome, but most of my readers here at the blog have not been beta readers of the novel itself, so I understand if the comments stay quiet or theoretical. :)
Sigh.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
"... ... NEXT!"
I haven't been around here or Twitter a great deal lately, not only because the paying job has involved a major launch this week, of which I was a core part for several areas, but also because it's seemed to me wise to let the page enjoy a little fallow time while I have been querying again.
Not so long ago, I was thinking I might be coming to the end of a resource to find more agents to look into, but more options have cropped up, and I'm quite enjoying the process right now. More than a couple of very interesting agents indeed have bobbed up, the kind I'm surprised and/or kicking myself for not having found sooner; but the nice thing is, it's not like I'm running out of options at a point where I've got a decent head of steam going.
We've also apparently set up a regular schedule of Thursday snowstorms in these parts, and I can't help but feel a bit like Arthur Dent about the whole winter thing in this regard.
But, even coming to appreciate the unique sense of anticipation for change living in a climate with season tends to include, I seem to be hanging in there with the ongoing winter. Whatever is absent, whatever is lacking, in my life, I'm managing to cope with.
Even Thursdays.
Not so long ago, I was thinking I might be coming to the end of a resource to find more agents to look into, but more options have cropped up, and I'm quite enjoying the process right now. More than a couple of very interesting agents indeed have bobbed up, the kind I'm surprised and/or kicking myself for not having found sooner; but the nice thing is, it's not like I'm running out of options at a point where I've got a decent head of steam going.
We've also apparently set up a regular schedule of Thursday snowstorms in these parts, and I can't help but feel a bit like Arthur Dent about the whole winter thing in this regard.
But, even coming to appreciate the unique sense of anticipation for change living in a climate with season tends to include, I seem to be hanging in there with the ongoing winter. Whatever is absent, whatever is lacking, in my life, I'm managing to cope with.
Even Thursdays.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Movie and Chinese?
There is a great freedom in being the sort of twit who just cannot care about some of the Great Big Events of American pop culture. The awards shows, American Idol, whatever the latest blockbuster movie is – even The Latest Technology – I may get to these things sooner or later, but I never will worry about being an early-adopter. Even Trek, though I make a point of seeing on the big screen, I’ve never made any real point about opening days.
The thing about going later in a film’s run is that it’s less of a zoo. And I never leave my home socially nor speak to people like a normal human being, so I don’t tend to get spoilered. So why would I want to get all fashed and roar out with everybody else and their yowling youngsters to Be FIRST?
The thing about not watching the Oscars or the Super Bowl or American Idol’s audition shows is, I’m not up till all hours to see the end, and as often as not (perhaps more?) I don’t even care nor find out Big Surprises the next day either. Sure, I’ll know if the Seahawks win – I have family in the Pacific Northwest, and a certain star on the team comes from my neck of the woods. I will hardly make a point of *avoiding* the news.
But I make little enough of a point of keeping up that the only reason I know the Super Bowl is this weekend (I assume it’s Sunday, but feel free not to update me in the Comments) is that a friend at work shared a recipe for Buffalo chicken dip with me today. I clued in that this might be an indicator. Heh.
Living outside these Major Events is a bit like being Jewish at Christmas – you can go for Chinese food and drive with easy traffic to go take in a flick (though, of course, the Gentile crowd’s going in for the latter more and more). You can watch ANYTHING you want, and know nobody’s going to call and interrupt as you read subtitles or paint your nails or query, for that matter.
(I hope agents don’t consider it un-American to find queries date- and time-stamped during the Super Bowl …)
You can research the state of life at night during the so-called “Dark Ages”, or read about death’s place in life, or even pick up Procopius for some not-so-secret history.
Hey, you can blog! I could do that. I just might, stay tuned.
The thing about going later in a film’s run is that it’s less of a zoo. And I never leave my home socially nor speak to people like a normal human being, so I don’t tend to get spoilered. So why would I want to get all fashed and roar out with everybody else and their yowling youngsters to Be FIRST?
The thing about not watching the Oscars or the Super Bowl or American Idol’s audition shows is, I’m not up till all hours to see the end, and as often as not (perhaps more?) I don’t even care nor find out Big Surprises the next day either. Sure, I’ll know if the Seahawks win – I have family in the Pacific Northwest, and a certain star on the team comes from my neck of the woods. I will hardly make a point of *avoiding* the news.
But I make little enough of a point of keeping up that the only reason I know the Super Bowl is this weekend (I assume it’s Sunday, but feel free not to update me in the Comments) is that a friend at work shared a recipe for Buffalo chicken dip with me today. I clued in that this might be an indicator. Heh.
Living outside these Major Events is a bit like being Jewish at Christmas – you can go for Chinese food and drive with easy traffic to go take in a flick (though, of course, the Gentile crowd’s going in for the latter more and more). You can watch ANYTHING you want, and know nobody’s going to call and interrupt as you read subtitles or paint your nails or query, for that matter.
(I hope agents don’t consider it un-American to find queries date- and time-stamped during the Super Bowl …)
You can research the state of life at night during the so-called “Dark Ages”, or read about death’s place in life, or even pick up Procopius for some not-so-secret history.
Hey, you can blog! I could do that. I just might, stay tuned.
Friday, January 16, 2015
Researching Agents
Old as I am, I’m not exceptionally naïve, and yet … every now and then, I find myself a wee stupefied when I inadvertently stumble upon laundry that’s not merely dirty, but borderline offal, and of course being flapped about in public (Teh Intarwebs) by those professing themselves laundresses. Such is the peril of researching agents.
When it comes to actual querying, I’ve become jaded enough that research is not as maximal as it once was. I verify they rep my genre, decide whether or not their website is intolerable, pay attention to submission guidelines, and read any interviews readily available. (The sad, but not to-the-point fact on these latter is that they tend to date to 2011 and earlier in the vast majority of cases; I truly need to ask some agents to let me interview them here.) If they’re not a gross mismatch, and especially if they appear to have some sense of humor, I personalize and query. The entire process can take less than fifteen minutes; but then, at the query stage, I suspect their side of the transaction often occurs far more speedily, though the time it takes for them to read my blood, sweat, and tearjerking introduction can be weeks and even months.
It’s when I get a request I’m going to re-read and more deeply research an agent, and my can that be edifying.
Not about the agent.
But about the kinds of special snowflakes who query them, and the extreme umbrage taken when Mr. or Ms. Agent shirks the obvious moral duty to fall into transports of wonder at the offering before them. It happens at the query stage and beyond, once requests have been too-long ignored, or follow-ups not responded to, and so on. And, yeah, maybe it actually is useful for me as another querier, to learn that someone with whom I may consider a business relationship might be a poor responder or the like.
But when an entire website is built around broadcasting theoretically-polite complaints about rejections which are not (right or wrong) actually outrageous, or when indeed SIX entire websites appear to have been generated to literally campaign against the usefulnes of another site often used as a queriers’ bible (and which is, in fact, littered with twits and bullies, but does contain bits of useful info) … It just gets weird. And distasteful.
I researched Janet Reid once, because I read her site (uh-DUH), and because I was curious the experience people have with her. This led me to one of the six shrill sites screaming about that parenthetical site alluded to above, and some extremely specific and veeeeeerrrrry angry particulars about her relationship there.
If I were researching her as a querying author with no previous experience of her (and, remember, Gossamer is her dollbaby and has become one of the known “mascots” on her blog/FaceBook etc. – he got his “the Editor Cat” sobriquet from her!), this coming as high as it does in the search results might put me off quering her in a trice. If I didn’t read enough to see the sparks flying off the ax being abused on the polishing stone.
As hard as it can be to face 5 rejections in 3 days (and, in case my regular readers have not guessed – finally got a full request today … so nine more to go!): damn. I don’t get the luxury of watching my entire reputation slagged on a regular basis by angry writers who may not have followed the rules, who have an inflated sense of the Sooper Sooper Specialness of their work, who really had their heart a bit too set on Mr. or Ms. Agent, or who are, frankly, batsplat crazy. I sincerely hope never to see six websites built by one angry rejectee, vigorously seeking recruits to the inexplicable cause of b*tching and moaning.
As difficult as it is to face editing and revision with no beta readers, and to allow myself to become paralyzed for a YEAR while facing the dragon with a butterknife: (so far) I’m not being publicly slagged for the temerity of Doing my Job.
The fact is, it’s a necessary truth that there are some slacker agents out there. Just as there are slackers everywhere else. However, I’ll learn more about them during the querying/full-requesting/prospective stage from ARTICLES they have written, interviews, their Publishers Marketplace and Agent Query and so on profiles, and fulsome blogs by clients discussing working with them than I ever can learn about them from whinging, no matter how pretend-politely it is couched.
Or how batsplat crazily it is spewed. Ahem.
From the complaints, all I *really* learn about is the complainers. It’s possible to get some ideas about the way an agent works, and form some questions, but until I have the privilege or trial of working with someone myself, even if only on a first-read (or second-read) basis, it’s not only premature to get het up about that one person they once kept waiting in 2008, but pointblank pointLESS.
It is, too, extremely quick to go “off” and become distasteful. It doesn’t feel helpful and informative, as would “this agent charges reading fees” or expects exclusive consideration before even requesting a full (I’ve seen agents – just within the past week – who “required” exclusive QUERIES, which is … sputter-inducingly ridiculous), or has left agenting, or has never made a sale despite claiming 10 years’ experience …
Reading the complaints of others, about an agent, especially where there is a group dynamic, or at least the clear desire/campaign to create one, gets me all QPF(*) in a big hurry, these days. It feels like research in the wrong order, like I’ve accidentally stumbled into that ever popular millennial quagmire: Doing It Wrong. It kind of feels mean, too – as mean as any given agent must seem to the many, many authors of such complaints, for giving them the HIDEOUSLY PAINFUL AND UNJUST cause to complain.
Erm.
Cart, horse, submit.
(*QPF: quizzical puppy face)
When it comes to actual querying, I’ve become jaded enough that research is not as maximal as it once was. I verify they rep my genre, decide whether or not their website is intolerable, pay attention to submission guidelines, and read any interviews readily available. (The sad, but not to-the-point fact on these latter is that they tend to date to 2011 and earlier in the vast majority of cases; I truly need to ask some agents to let me interview them here.) If they’re not a gross mismatch, and especially if they appear to have some sense of humor, I personalize and query. The entire process can take less than fifteen minutes; but then, at the query stage, I suspect their side of the transaction often occurs far more speedily, though the time it takes for them to read my blood, sweat, and tearjerking introduction can be weeks and even months.
It’s when I get a request I’m going to re-read and more deeply research an agent, and my can that be edifying.
Not about the agent.
But about the kinds of special snowflakes who query them, and the extreme umbrage taken when Mr. or Ms. Agent shirks the obvious moral duty to fall into transports of wonder at the offering before them. It happens at the query stage and beyond, once requests have been too-long ignored, or follow-ups not responded to, and so on. And, yeah, maybe it actually is useful for me as another querier, to learn that someone with whom I may consider a business relationship might be a poor responder or the like.
But when an entire website is built around broadcasting theoretically-polite complaints about rejections which are not (right or wrong) actually outrageous, or when indeed SIX entire websites appear to have been generated to literally campaign against the usefulnes of another site often used as a queriers’ bible (and which is, in fact, littered with twits and bullies, but does contain bits of useful info) … It just gets weird. And distasteful.
I researched Janet Reid once, because I read her site (uh-DUH), and because I was curious the experience people have with her. This led me to one of the six shrill sites screaming about that parenthetical site alluded to above, and some extremely specific and veeeeeerrrrry angry particulars about her relationship there.
If I were researching her as a querying author with no previous experience of her (and, remember, Gossamer is her dollbaby and has become one of the known “mascots” on her blog/FaceBook etc. – he got his “the Editor Cat” sobriquet from her!), this coming as high as it does in the search results might put me off quering her in a trice. If I didn’t read enough to see the sparks flying off the ax being abused on the polishing stone.
As hard as it can be to face 5 rejections in 3 days (and, in case my regular readers have not guessed – finally got a full request today … so nine more to go!): damn. I don’t get the luxury of watching my entire reputation slagged on a regular basis by angry writers who may not have followed the rules, who have an inflated sense of the Sooper Sooper Specialness of their work, who really had their heart a bit too set on Mr. or Ms. Agent, or who are, frankly, batsplat crazy. I sincerely hope never to see six websites built by one angry rejectee, vigorously seeking recruits to the inexplicable cause of b*tching and moaning.
As difficult as it is to face editing and revision with no beta readers, and to allow myself to become paralyzed for a YEAR while facing the dragon with a butterknife: (so far) I’m not being publicly slagged for the temerity of Doing my Job.
The fact is, it’s a necessary truth that there are some slacker agents out there. Just as there are slackers everywhere else. However, I’ll learn more about them during the querying/full-requesting/prospective stage from ARTICLES they have written, interviews, their Publishers Marketplace and Agent Query and so on profiles, and fulsome blogs by clients discussing working with them than I ever can learn about them from whinging, no matter how pretend-politely it is couched.
Or how batsplat crazily it is spewed. Ahem.
From the complaints, all I *really* learn about is the complainers. It’s possible to get some ideas about the way an agent works, and form some questions, but until I have the privilege or trial of working with someone myself, even if only on a first-read (or second-read) basis, it’s not only premature to get het up about that one person they once kept waiting in 2008, but pointblank pointLESS.
It is, too, extremely quick to go “off” and become distasteful. It doesn’t feel helpful and informative, as would “this agent charges reading fees” or expects exclusive consideration before even requesting a full (I’ve seen agents – just within the past week – who “required” exclusive QUERIES, which is … sputter-inducingly ridiculous), or has left agenting, or has never made a sale despite claiming 10 years’ experience …
Reading the complaints of others, about an agent, especially where there is a group dynamic, or at least the clear desire/campaign to create one, gets me all QPF(*) in a big hurry, these days. It feels like research in the wrong order, like I’ve accidentally stumbled into that ever popular millennial quagmire: Doing It Wrong. It kind of feels mean, too – as mean as any given agent must seem to the many, many authors of such complaints, for giving them the HIDEOUSLY PAINFUL AND UNJUST cause to complain.
Erm.
Cart, horse, submit.
(*QPF: quizzical puppy face)
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Query Count Count
Okay, after a couple days' worth of rejections, I wanted to reassure myself, and there are still eleven queries live out there. Researching more tonight, and I have a NICE fat list to keep submitting to.
So we've got that going for us ...
So we've got that going for us ...
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Collection (of Sorts)
Quick update, Gossamer continues to be nimble on his toes, and no blood today. His little white-sneakered foot is clean as can be.
Ahh, perspective - there's nothing like learning of others' struggles (and, perhaps, extrapolating on even worse ones) to put three rejections at once in a wider context.
The History Girls have Tanya Landman and a great post on one of my own failings - the whitewashing of history. I need to research diversity for the WIP.
Also - geez, in the space of five minutes I got a huge spike in its, and see no signs of bots in the stats. So hello, and welcome, whoever just popped in!
Ahh, perspective - there's nothing like learning of others' struggles (and, perhaps, extrapolating on even worse ones) to put three rejections at once in a wider context.
The History Girls have Tanya Landman and a great post on one of my own failings - the whitewashing of history. I need to research diversity for the WIP.
Also - geez, in the space of five minutes I got a huge spike in its, and see no signs of bots in the stats. So hello, and welcome, whoever just popped in!
The Thing About Volume Querying ...
... is that you get a great feeling of accomplishment, BUT you also get three rejections in a day from some of the speedy responders. And one from an agent, maybe, whom you really wanted to impress and thought you could.
Le sigh.
I can keep in mind all the other queries still out on submission with no response yet (including that *other* agent or three I think are pretty neat). And I can stick with my philosophy that every R is the next step to being snapped up.
But still. Yeah. Sigh.
At least the one-space-after-a-period thing seems to be going fine.
Le sigh.
I can keep in mind all the other queries still out on submission with no response yet (including that *other* agent or three I think are pretty neat). And I can stick with my philosophy that every R is the next step to being snapped up.
But still. Yeah. Sigh.
At least the one-space-after-a-period thing seems to be going fine.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Final Collection?
The History Blog takes us back to the back of a hagiography of a Bishop of Rheims, where we find a thousand-year-old piece of music, here performed by a pair of undegrads at St. John's college. They create an exquisite window into the sound of the past; the beautiful sound of human voices in song:
The Arrant Pedant got thirteen out of fifteen on an online grammar quiz with intriguingly mercurial answers, rules, and scores. Linguistically predictable (online quizzes are execrable), it's much more useful as a look at the reliability of Teh Intarwebs' infotainment and the interesting ineffability of "answers" found here ...
"You no longer need tennis balls in your life."
And, last but not least, Janet Reid takes us places. This time: "In a world ... where 'R&R' means 'revise and resubmit' ... and rejection just means rejection." Even a really nice rejection. Perhaps especially the really nice ones.
The Arrant Pedant got thirteen out of fifteen on an online grammar quiz with intriguingly mercurial answers, rules, and scores. Linguistically predictable (online quizzes are execrable), it's much more useful as a look at the reliability of Teh Intarwebs' infotainment and the interesting ineffability of "answers" found here ...
"You no longer need tennis balls in your life."
And, last but not least, Janet Reid takes us places. This time: "In a world ... where 'R&R' means 'revise and resubmit' ... and rejection just means rejection." Even a really nice rejection. Perhaps especially the really nice ones.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Synopses: Begotten, not (re)Made
This actually exemplifies for me *exactly* why synopsis-writing is frustrating. Not only is there a very wide range of quantity requested ("three to five paragraphs" or "one page" or "three pages" and so on), but there are a number of agents I've queried who in fact specify that all characters *must* be mentioned. I know this is a sure way to clunk-ifying a synopsis. And mine is clunked, because I've seen more guidelines instructing the inclusion of characters than not. Like a lot of neurotic pre-published authors - I obey like a spanked puppy.
Then there is the reworking of the clunker for almost every single query, because of all those varying particulars in submission guidelines. It's a bit like the Biblical genealogies; "who really reads The Begats?" But The Begats are canon.
Okay, here at the ranch we're not supposed to post autoerotically about querying hell, but ... these three posts at BookEnds are not just relevant to my authorial audience, but a perfect example to non-writers of what those of us seeking publication have to deal with, and an interesting point on the continuum of madness that is the path to success.
Readers here know I'm not precious about my darlings, and kill 'em off with dispassion - even with elán, often. It feels good to improve my product, to be honest.
It feels like hell on a stick with cheese to work and rework and deploy and redeploy the tools to shill said product, just to get a professional to say "I'm willing to try selling this." It's exhausting, and as often as you find advice on how to write The Perfect Synopsis, you find the submission guideline for which TPS is defined by entirely different terms.
Truth be told, I like the three posts above. BookEnds' blog is a good one, and advice from those professionals you respect is worthwhile by extension of that respect.
The real point is that there is no such thing as TPS. There is no industry standard, and there's no one single synopsis any author will ever be able to use for every single query. Just as there is no single query.
This is both the joy and the head-desking frustration of publishing. For all I complained on that third post at BookEnds: for me, ultimately, this is just the minor pain that will make the pleasures stand out as they transform into success. It's the gauntlet, the dues to pay. And I have the luxury of choosing when to pay.
At post-ten-p.m. on a Thursday night: I don't have to come up with a toll right now. I can rest, get through the gate, and make better progress tomorrow.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Cluster. You Know the Rest.
For the first time in years, I seem to have returned to The Land of the Cluster Migraine. In some ways, "cluster" can be a misnomer for this type of headache. When I was working for That One Guy lo these many years ago, I once endured a headache over the course of something like four months (no, it never stopped; no, not even when I was asleep - it just got worse or less-worse, with no cessation whatsoever, for actual months on end). That ain't a cluster, that's a single nasty monster-ache, over a season or more.
Right now, though, "cluster" is about right - it's letting up from time to time. But, I believe, my output here has been affected, and I can say for certain my output at Twitter has plummeted. Perhaps all to the good, that part.
Unfortunately, the output in querying has been constrained as well. I've never been an email blaster, but I can recall getting three and even six or eight queries out in one night, in the past.
So it is with tempered joy, but at least some satisfaction, I realize I've reached the point where I'm soldiering on through the pain. Got some good submitting done tonight, and that after a seriously hectic, but rather rewarding (and long) day at work.
Not half bad, considering the unseemly relations I indulged earlier today, with a fist full of NSAIDs.
And so now: beddy-bye time. Anything that happens there with Gossamer the Editor Cat is strictly seemly.
Right now, though, "cluster" is about right - it's letting up from time to time. But, I believe, my output here has been affected, and I can say for certain my output at Twitter has plummeted. Perhaps all to the good, that part.
Unfortunately, the output in querying has been constrained as well. I've never been an email blaster, but I can recall getting three and even six or eight queries out in one night, in the past.
So it is with tempered joy, but at least some satisfaction, I realize I've reached the point where I'm soldiering on through the pain. Got some good submitting done tonight, and that after a seriously hectic, but rather rewarding (and long) day at work.
Not half bad, considering the unseemly relations I indulged earlier today, with a fist full of NSAIDs.
And so now: beddy-bye time. Anything that happens there with Gossamer the Editor Cat is strictly seemly.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
#AmQuerying ...
Uuuugghhh. I can't get the next query out until I revamp that stinking synopsis YET again to tailor it to yet another set of submission guidelines. I refuse to flub "3-5 paragraphs" to the entire page it is right now, but sometimes (after a 9-hour workday, just for instance), following the rules gets exhausting.
Don't go thinking six or seven revamps is ever enough, either. Sure, you might have a 3-5 page synopsis, a one-pager, a 3-5 paragraph one, and the query itself, but some agent you crave-crave-crave to impress is going to turn up asking for one seven pages long, or one TWO PARAGRAPHS long. It's not their fault there's not industry standard!
Or is it ...? :)
Don't go thinking six or seven revamps is ever enough, either. Sure, you might have a 3-5 page synopsis, a one-pager, a 3-5 paragraph one, and the query itself, but some agent you crave-crave-crave to impress is going to turn up asking for one seven pages long, or one TWO PARAGRAPHS long. It's not their fault there's not industry standard!
Or is it ...? :)
Monday, July 28, 2014
BAD Writer, No Scooby Snacks
One of those rare occasions when it's worthwhile to read the comments. The community of commenters at Janet Reid's blog ... well, sometimes, they far outshine (apparently) the queriers she sees. He's fortunate she didn't broadcast his name. There's little we seem to like better in this world than a good, vicious public shaming. Talk about a bullet dodged.
Friday, July 18, 2014
TONIGHT, WE RIDE
It’s an over-used headline, sure – but that’s because it’s fun.
Today is July 18. It’s an anniversary of something I’m familiar with, so I’ll remember this day. And this day … is the day the querying begins once again. And THIS day, THIS round: will be the last. This is the selling round. This, as Max Quordlepleen is wont to say, is the proverbial IT.
I finished my last polish ... the word is back from beta-reading ... the last look has been taken ... and it is time (at last).
And so – with thanks to my wonderful writing friends, and a little encouragement from one pearl-grey, silken-coated and green-eyed boy – tonight, my friends. Tonight, we RIDE! Release the Kraken! Let slip the dogs of literature!
You know - or cats.
And so on.
Today is July 18. It’s an anniversary of something I’m familiar with, so I’ll remember this day. And this day … is the day the querying begins once again. And THIS day, THIS round: will be the last. This is the selling round. This, as Max Quordlepleen is wont to say, is the proverbial IT.
I finished my last polish ... the word is back from beta-reading ... the last look has been taken ... and it is time (at last).
And so – with thanks to my wonderful writing friends, and a little encouragement from one pearl-grey, silken-coated and green-eyed boy – tonight, my friends. Tonight, we RIDE! Release the Kraken! Let slip the dogs of literature!
You know - or cats.
And so on.
 |
| Gossamer the Editor Cat is up rarin’ to go to NYC and points beyond with the MS |
Monday, February 10, 2014
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Agent See
Not for the first time, and perhaps not for the last, Ax is out with a positively tantalizing agent. At the moment, the other two who had it have provided their rejections, which was expected given genre and other limitations, but I wasn’t going to not-query these agents who, in person, said I should. I have two more priority queries I NEED to get out, as well as several requeries now that the revision is complete and I do have a long weekend staring me in the face (now if someone would just clean my house: bliss!).
Most of the time, when my work is in an agent’s hands, I find it impossible to “feel” the situation – to get anxious about the waiting, to be truly aware and concerned about a professional READING my WRITING. In part, this is due to the fact that you just can’t know *when* someone is actually looking at your MSS. In part, it’s also due to one of my first full requests falling into the hands of an agent (I met in PERSON, who requested the story with some excitement, mind you) who never responded to my two requests to confirm she had received the manuscript (I sent twice) and never spoke to the submission at all. I gave her my due diligence, but if that was her way of doing business with those she eagerly responded to in person, all I could think was (a) good riddance to bad representation, and (b) woe betide the poor souls querying this person cold. I can’t imagine how she ever chooses anything to represent at all, but that’s decidedly her problem.
And she may have cured me of that brand of nervousness authors aspiring to publication are meant to be riddled with – so it’s not as if she was completely useless. Just not in her stated role.
It used to feel like handing someone naked pictures of myself to look at, having my work read. One suspects it’s a good thing not to hold onto that feeling forever, though I imagine many authors always have it, at least to some degree. It probably helps that I feel more like a conduit than a creator – I sometimes quite relish killing off my little darlings, and I have to admit to sometimes finding my work so good I find *myself* insufferable about it. Heh. Certainly, I’ve been mistaken on that point in the past (or I would never have revised), but beneath the willingness to educate myself in how best to sell my product, there’s always been that confidence that the product is eminently sellable.
And … this new year, this new job, this time in my life of change and expectations: I’m really ready to give up the comfort and safety of being an unpublished author. It’s time Ax gets out there, and it’s time the WIP goes somewhere, too. I am working on these fronts, and as presentable (as far as the publishing industry is concerned) as I’ll ever be, and Clovis’ life, his story, *must* be read now. Enough of the coy sense of vulnerabilty that – GASP! – someone might be reading my writing. Enough of the illusions that I was the exception to all the rules of first-time author-dom. I’ve learned those, and have assets to spare.
It’s time, at last, to become a debut author.
And to get that stupid house clean …
Most of the time, when my work is in an agent’s hands, I find it impossible to “feel” the situation – to get anxious about the waiting, to be truly aware and concerned about a professional READING my WRITING. In part, this is due to the fact that you just can’t know *when* someone is actually looking at your MSS. In part, it’s also due to one of my first full requests falling into the hands of an agent (I met in PERSON, who requested the story with some excitement, mind you) who never responded to my two requests to confirm she had received the manuscript (I sent twice) and never spoke to the submission at all. I gave her my due diligence, but if that was her way of doing business with those she eagerly responded to in person, all I could think was (a) good riddance to bad representation, and (b) woe betide the poor souls querying this person cold. I can’t imagine how she ever chooses anything to represent at all, but that’s decidedly her problem.
And she may have cured me of that brand of nervousness authors aspiring to publication are meant to be riddled with – so it’s not as if she was completely useless. Just not in her stated role.
It used to feel like handing someone naked pictures of myself to look at, having my work read. One suspects it’s a good thing not to hold onto that feeling forever, though I imagine many authors always have it, at least to some degree. It probably helps that I feel more like a conduit than a creator – I sometimes quite relish killing off my little darlings, and I have to admit to sometimes finding my work so good I find *myself* insufferable about it. Heh. Certainly, I’ve been mistaken on that point in the past (or I would never have revised), but beneath the willingness to educate myself in how best to sell my product, there’s always been that confidence that the product is eminently sellable.
And … this new year, this new job, this time in my life of change and expectations: I’m really ready to give up the comfort and safety of being an unpublished author. It’s time Ax gets out there, and it’s time the WIP goes somewhere, too. I am working on these fronts, and as presentable (as far as the publishing industry is concerned) as I’ll ever be, and Clovis’ life, his story, *must* be read now. Enough of the coy sense of vulnerabilty that – GASP! – someone might be reading my writing. Enough of the illusions that I was the exception to all the rules of first-time author-dom. I’ve learned those, and have assets to spare.
It’s time, at last, to become a debut author.
And to get that stupid house clean …
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Monday, January 20, 2014
Saving Some for Later
It is perhaps weak to quit at three queries. It is perhaps prudent to stop writing crucial correspondence after a day of work and an evening's query-prep. My instinct is toward the latter. Deborah Grosvenor will be next up, and there's even a MAN on my list in queue. Yes, Virginia: they let men be literary agents, too.
There will be more reason to squee about further progress tomorrow. For now, I think - a cruise through my Roku box.
There will be more reason to squee about further progress tomorrow. For now, I think - a cruise through my Roku box.
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