I've spent the last several days industriously editing the living hell out of two different manuscripts. I completely reedited an older project, as well as the one on submission, in case I decided to query for it again one day.
And then, as though mandated by fate, an agent Tweeted that she was looking for my novel. And not just any agent; an agent I really liked based on what I'd read about her.
Well, okay. She didn't use my name, or the title of my book, and until I queried her she had no idea I existed, but it nonetheless felt like she was saying "Hey, Andrea. This is what I want in a novel. Got anything for me?"
And, wonder of wonders, yes I did. A newly reedited version of my paranormal romance for young adults.
I love that novel so much it makes my stomach knot up. I love it so much, in fact, I've already put about 200 hundred hours of writing into the sequel. And roughly outlined the third in the trilogy. It was a story that caught me by the throat and hasn't let go yet.
I mean, I love my mystery that's on submission right now. But I always knew it was going to be a stand-alone. Knowing the romance was meant to be at least a trilogy made me connect more readily with the characters. I knew a LOT that happened to them. I just fell in love with them and everything they were going to go through. I sobbed my way through writing the ending of the first book.
Sigh.
Now it's time to write and wait. Write and hope.
I find it encouraging, though, that even if she rejects my work, I'd still want to take her out for a drink and talk writing. At least that lets me know she's the type of agent I'd want if she decides she wants me. And I think that's a really important thing to take into consideration.
That brings the grand total of agents about whom I've thought "I could hang out with them" to three.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a best friend. I can't imagine any agent in the world would want or expect that from a client, nor should a client want or expect it from their agent. But the working relationship would probably be better if, in another time and different situation, your agent would be someone you could drink wine and discuss books with.
There has to be some basic underpinning of common interests and personalities, I would think, or the act of working together would just suck.
All three of the agents I've felt a glimmer of Okay, she's really a fantastic chick for currently have my work. I don't know if a rejection from someone I genuinely like would be easier or harder to deal with.
I'm hoping I never have to find out.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
I Feel Damn Good About This
Yesterday the Twitter world was all (ahem) atwitter--see, that's how you know I'm a writer, that kind of wit right there--with a contest presented by @slushpilehell. You can find the contest, entitled #badkiddybooks, right here. I entered. Repeatedly. I don't know what it says about me that the titles just kept popping into my head.
Some of the entries were hilarious, some a little disturbing, others were actually really thought-provoking and required some literary knowledge to "get." Granted, more fell into the first two categories than the last, but still. A good time was had by all.
Our brave leader chose a top 25 list and posted it on his site. And did I make that list? Yes, yes I did. Am I excited? Yes, yes I am.
Does this make me ponder who I am and what I stand for? Not particularly because that would be a lot of work.
Anyway, it's worth a few hours to read them all. The link up there will take you to the discussion. Or, if you just want to see the creme de la creme of the entries, you can go the easy route and stop by here.
Still. Excited to be on the list. Although I probably won't ever write a book entitled "A Buzzing in the Night: Why Your Wii Control's Batteries Are Gone."
Some of the entries were hilarious, some a little disturbing, others were actually really thought-provoking and required some literary knowledge to "get." Granted, more fell into the first two categories than the last, but still. A good time was had by all.
Our brave leader chose a top 25 list and posted it on his site. And did I make that list? Yes, yes I did. Am I excited? Yes, yes I am.
Does this make me ponder who I am and what I stand for? Not particularly because that would be a lot of work.
Anyway, it's worth a few hours to read them all. The link up there will take you to the discussion. Or, if you just want to see the creme de la creme of the entries, you can go the easy route and stop by here.
Still. Excited to be on the list. Although I probably won't ever write a book entitled "A Buzzing in the Night: Why Your Wii Control's Batteries Are Gone."
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Check That....AHHHHH!!!! Editing.
Got some notes today about strengthening my MS. I wondered how common it is for agents to send these to authors before they offer representation. Turns out, opinion is split.
I read several agent blogs that said they don't have time to do this with every MS they read. Which I can understand. I'm a logical gal. If I were an agent, I'd probably be dancing with the one I brought, too, i.e. clients. Also known as the people currently making it possible to pay rent.
So, I was pleasantly surprised to receive such extensive feedback. Did it hurt that it was really nice, complimentary feedback? No. No, it did not. I'm also an easy-going gal. You can tell me I suck out loud if you say it nicely enough. I'm Southern; we're all about manners, y'all.
I also found some agents that said this was a common practice for them when they first started out. Right up until they began getting snarky reply emails that were less than polite. One agent mentioned a reply she'd gotten from an author that called the agent everything you wouldn't say in front of your grandmother. I'm paraphrasing, of course.
That gave me pause. Why would anyone be pissed if someone offered them an opinion? I'm guessing the agent didn't say "If you don't make the changes I'm talking about I will burn down your house and tell every other agent I won't sit with them at lunch if they offer to represent you." It was a suggestion. One made by someone much more intimately familiar with the publishing industry, but suggestion all the same. No one said the author had to do anything.
I understand how important an author's vision and ideas are. I practically burped and diapered my MS. And, sure, I want people to love it just as it is. That ain't gonna happen. So I went into this knowing I was sending my baby out for rejection, requests, and revisions.
Maybe this is easier for me because I teach writing. I understand that asking for revisions is not code for "Gee and wow. This sucks." The more in-depth my revision suggestions, the more faith I have that the work can really blossom and improve. In order to believe that, I have to see there's a strong foundation to work from. It's actually a backhanded compliment. It's "I think you're good enough that I feel reasonably certain you can be even better."
Incidentally, I'm the teacher, so my suggestions are less suggestion and more demand. I give my students way less wiggle room than agents give. I know more about writing than my students do. Agents know more about the market than I do. So, I adapt.
This all made me wonder: Am I just naive? Am I missing something? Is a revision suggestion just one small step up from rejection? Have I not been at it long enough to be cynical?
Or am I just as determined to improve my writing now as I was when Mrs. Lewis told I could?
Off to edit.
I read several agent blogs that said they don't have time to do this with every MS they read. Which I can understand. I'm a logical gal. If I were an agent, I'd probably be dancing with the one I brought, too, i.e. clients. Also known as the people currently making it possible to pay rent.
So, I was pleasantly surprised to receive such extensive feedback. Did it hurt that it was really nice, complimentary feedback? No. No, it did not. I'm also an easy-going gal. You can tell me I suck out loud if you say it nicely enough. I'm Southern; we're all about manners, y'all.
I also found some agents that said this was a common practice for them when they first started out. Right up until they began getting snarky reply emails that were less than polite. One agent mentioned a reply she'd gotten from an author that called the agent everything you wouldn't say in front of your grandmother. I'm paraphrasing, of course.
That gave me pause. Why would anyone be pissed if someone offered them an opinion? I'm guessing the agent didn't say "If you don't make the changes I'm talking about I will burn down your house and tell every other agent I won't sit with them at lunch if they offer to represent you." It was a suggestion. One made by someone much more intimately familiar with the publishing industry, but suggestion all the same. No one said the author had to do anything.
I understand how important an author's vision and ideas are. I practically burped and diapered my MS. And, sure, I want people to love it just as it is. That ain't gonna happen. So I went into this knowing I was sending my baby out for rejection, requests, and revisions.
Maybe this is easier for me because I teach writing. I understand that asking for revisions is not code for "Gee and wow. This sucks." The more in-depth my revision suggestions, the more faith I have that the work can really blossom and improve. In order to believe that, I have to see there's a strong foundation to work from. It's actually a backhanded compliment. It's "I think you're good enough that I feel reasonably certain you can be even better."
Incidentally, I'm the teacher, so my suggestions are less suggestion and more demand. I give my students way less wiggle room than agents give. I know more about writing than my students do. Agents know more about the market than I do. So, I adapt.
This all made me wonder: Am I just naive? Am I missing something? Is a revision suggestion just one small step up from rejection? Have I not been at it long enough to be cynical?
Or am I just as determined to improve my writing now as I was when Mrs. Lewis told I could?
Off to edit.
AHHHHHHHHHH WRITING!!!!
Story idea.
Didn't start with a character this time. So there is no grabbing a notebook and recording action. No William Faulkner style character stalking this time. A whole world just sort of dropped into my head. Spent the evening writing reams of notes to get it all down.
I'm excited. Really happy.
I'm writing.
Didn't start with a character this time. So there is no grabbing a notebook and recording action. No William Faulkner style character stalking this time. A whole world just sort of dropped into my head. Spent the evening writing reams of notes to get it all down.
I'm excited. Really happy.
I'm writing.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Silver Phoenix
I just read a short blurb about the revamping of Cindy Pon's debut novel, Silver Phoenix. And I only have one question to pose.
What. The. Hell?
The protagonist of the story is of Chinese descent. Why in the name of all that's sane and logical, should the cover art NOT represent that? It bothers me for three reasons; the first as a writer, the second as a reader, and the third as a rational human.
1.) My novel has a female protagonist, and since it's told in first person, a female narrator. Should it be published, I'd have a real issue if someone slapped a boy on the front of it. Considering it's titled Balloon Girl, I get that it's unlikely anyone would. I also realize that authors tend not to have a lot of say in cover art, but in this case, the art is misleading. Which brings us to...
2.) I like to look at the cover of books. I do usually read the jacket flap, of course, but book covers often catch my eye and make me look further. Correct me if I'm wrong, isn't that the point of covers? If not, why aren't all covers matte black or shiny white? If the cover art isn't a representation of what lives below it, what's the point in having any art at all? If I pick up a book with highly stylized, colorful and cartoonish animals, I'm going to be pretty annoyed if it's a reprint of War and Peace. Not that I have a problem with W & P. But because that's not what I was expecting. I don't like being screwed with. In this case, it's kind of expected you're going to judge a book by it's cover. That's where the saying comes from, folks. I want to get a good idea of what I'm dealing with at a glance. Which leads to...
3.) I am a free-thinking human being. I credit everyone else with the same basic intellectual powers I have. I do not need something Americanized for me. It's called ethnocentrism, this belief that something must be appropriately "familiar" before we will purchase it. That's horseshit (as my daddy used to often say.) It's insulting to the author and it's insulting to the reading public. I have news for the people who chose to whitewash this cover--if people are turned away from the gorgeous girl on the cover because of her ethnic roots, they're not likely to be very enthused with the jacket copy. If someone chooses not to read literature written about another culture because it doesn't appeal to them, you're only adding the five seconds it takes them to read what the book is about before they have the same reaction as you believe they would have had to the cover in the first place. They're still going to put the book back. You're not moving more units. You're just annoying people by being misleading. You can't fix racism by slapping a shadowy Caucasian girl on the front of a book. And I understand that it isn't even always an issue of racism. We all have different interests in what we read. Either way, racism or preference, you're not going to magically appeal to more people by changing the cover.
If I was the author, I'd be heartbroken. From everything I've read, Silver Phoenix is a fantastic book, a book the author can be proud of. And the cover art should reflect her vision of her work.
Period.
What. The. Hell?
The protagonist of the story is of Chinese descent. Why in the name of all that's sane and logical, should the cover art NOT represent that? It bothers me for three reasons; the first as a writer, the second as a reader, and the third as a rational human.
1.) My novel has a female protagonist, and since it's told in first person, a female narrator. Should it be published, I'd have a real issue if someone slapped a boy on the front of it. Considering it's titled Balloon Girl, I get that it's unlikely anyone would. I also realize that authors tend not to have a lot of say in cover art, but in this case, the art is misleading. Which brings us to...
2.) I like to look at the cover of books. I do usually read the jacket flap, of course, but book covers often catch my eye and make me look further. Correct me if I'm wrong, isn't that the point of covers? If not, why aren't all covers matte black or shiny white? If the cover art isn't a representation of what lives below it, what's the point in having any art at all? If I pick up a book with highly stylized, colorful and cartoonish animals, I'm going to be pretty annoyed if it's a reprint of War and Peace. Not that I have a problem with W & P. But because that's not what I was expecting. I don't like being screwed with. In this case, it's kind of expected you're going to judge a book by it's cover. That's where the saying comes from, folks. I want to get a good idea of what I'm dealing with at a glance. Which leads to...
3.) I am a free-thinking human being. I credit everyone else with the same basic intellectual powers I have. I do not need something Americanized for me. It's called ethnocentrism, this belief that something must be appropriately "familiar" before we will purchase it. That's horseshit (as my daddy used to often say.) It's insulting to the author and it's insulting to the reading public. I have news for the people who chose to whitewash this cover--if people are turned away from the gorgeous girl on the cover because of her ethnic roots, they're not likely to be very enthused with the jacket copy. If someone chooses not to read literature written about another culture because it doesn't appeal to them, you're only adding the five seconds it takes them to read what the book is about before they have the same reaction as you believe they would have had to the cover in the first place. They're still going to put the book back. You're not moving more units. You're just annoying people by being misleading. You can't fix racism by slapping a shadowy Caucasian girl on the front of a book. And I understand that it isn't even always an issue of racism. We all have different interests in what we read. Either way, racism or preference, you're not going to magically appeal to more people by changing the cover.
If I was the author, I'd be heartbroken. From everything I've read, Silver Phoenix is a fantastic book, a book the author can be proud of. And the cover art should reflect her vision of her work.
Period.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
A Question Worth Asking...
Or a question worth a long stay in a mountain cabin where I can come to terms with my sadness and dashed dreams.
Question currently under discussion: "But Andrea, what if you don't ever become a published author?"
Well. Stab me next time. It'll hurt significantly less.
But...what if? Really. What if it doesn't happen? That's not even a bitchy question (though I think I did mutter bitch as I slung a pillow across the room.) It is a perfectly viable, logical question. That doesn't mean I have to enjoy accepting the viability and logic of it. I just have to get on with the business of accepting it.
Honestly, I had no answer. I have no answer. I don't enjoy indulging in that kind of 'what if' game. I had the importance of "what if" reintroduced to me after I read this blog post. These are two of the most essential words in a writers' vocabulary. Seriously, think about it for a second. Every novel that's ever been penned had to begin with a 'what if.' It could have been the author's what if I try to write a novel, or the what if that necessarily comes with pulling people who don't exist out of your mind and giving them life and breath and substance. Either way, that two word question always plays into the bleeding of words onto paper.
Sometimes the what if gives birth to the writing and sometimes, I just realized tonight, it does the exact opposite. It's hard to come to terms with. How have I reached this point in my life and career and never given into wondering what if...it doesn't happen? It seems mildly curious to think back and see I've never actually doubted my eventual success.
And that's a little terrifying. And probably unaccountably arrogant.
A theme explored in my novel Balloon Girl is that of fate versus chance. I believe that things do happen for a particular reason. I always have. That makes this little what if debacle a lot harder. I've always believed you can't fight what's meant to happen. Which, I suppose, means I could write a fantastic novel, do everything in my power to see it published, but if it's not meant to happen...
So that brings the discussion away from what if I'm never a published author and swings it toward what if I'm not meant to be a published author. And see, that's harder. That's something I can barely stand to consider.
And yet. Yet, I find myself thinking what if from the other side of the question. What if I am meant to be a published author?
Flip the question and it suddenly becomes less terrifying and more comforting. If it's meant to happen, I can breathe a sigh of relief. The right agent will get the MS in their hands, then in their hearts; I will look back and see the path illuminated and suddenly every step that got me there will seem the most natural thing in the world.
I choose to think of what if as a positive.
Question currently under discussion: "But Andrea, what if you don't ever become a published author?"
Well. Stab me next time. It'll hurt significantly less.
But...what if? Really. What if it doesn't happen? That's not even a bitchy question (though I think I did mutter bitch as I slung a pillow across the room.) It is a perfectly viable, logical question. That doesn't mean I have to enjoy accepting the viability and logic of it. I just have to get on with the business of accepting it.
Honestly, I had no answer. I have no answer. I don't enjoy indulging in that kind of 'what if' game. I had the importance of "what if" reintroduced to me after I read this blog post. These are two of the most essential words in a writers' vocabulary. Seriously, think about it for a second. Every novel that's ever been penned had to begin with a 'what if.' It could have been the author's what if I try to write a novel, or the what if that necessarily comes with pulling people who don't exist out of your mind and giving them life and breath and substance. Either way, that two word question always plays into the bleeding of words onto paper.
Sometimes the what if gives birth to the writing and sometimes, I just realized tonight, it does the exact opposite. It's hard to come to terms with. How have I reached this point in my life and career and never given into wondering what if...it doesn't happen? It seems mildly curious to think back and see I've never actually doubted my eventual success.
And that's a little terrifying. And probably unaccountably arrogant.
A theme explored in my novel Balloon Girl is that of fate versus chance. I believe that things do happen for a particular reason. I always have. That makes this little what if debacle a lot harder. I've always believed you can't fight what's meant to happen. Which, I suppose, means I could write a fantastic novel, do everything in my power to see it published, but if it's not meant to happen...
So that brings the discussion away from what if I'm never a published author and swings it toward what if I'm not meant to be a published author. And see, that's harder. That's something I can barely stand to consider.
And yet. Yet, I find myself thinking what if from the other side of the question. What if I am meant to be a published author?
Flip the question and it suddenly becomes less terrifying and more comforting. If it's meant to happen, I can breathe a sigh of relief. The right agent will get the MS in their hands, then in their hearts; I will look back and see the path illuminated and suddenly every step that got me there will seem the most natural thing in the world.
I choose to think of what if as a positive.
So Terrifyingly Accurate
If I didn't know better--and I hope maybe I do--I'd think someone was hanging out in my head, reading my roller coaster thoughts.
It's just creepy.
It's just creepy.
I Read A Lot
That is the most boring title I've ever seen.
That doesn't make it less true, though. I do. I read a lot. A few weekends ago I read 9 books in two days. I also cleaned house, ran errands, wrote lesson plans, did several loads of laundry, and slept about 7 hours per night. Which is to say, I don't just read a lot. I read fast. Always have.
This is a skill that comes in mighty handy when I have 175 feature articles handed in on the same day and I need to read them all and make revision notes overnight. It does not come in handy for the purpose of book clubs. I'm always afraid to talk. What if I slip and say something about a plot point that the rest of the club hasn't gotten to yet? So I'm more a listener until everyone has finished. I don't mind.
I don't skim. I read. I feel this is an important distinction to make. I read for content just as much as anyone else. However, the fact I read so many novels in the same genre means things can get mixed up. I hate it, feel really guilty--like I'm betraying the author. But there's no help for it.
Because I read a little differently than a lot of people, I had to come up with my own system for making recommendations about books. I never expected to become the go-to gal for book recommendations, but being the writing specialist somehow came with the responsibility. I hate to tell my colleagues that I'm no more qualified to choose books than anyone else. It feels like failing if I don't at least try to help them find books they'll like. So, try I do.
My system for suggesting books is really simple: If I could read the next installment of a series without having to go back and reread the last to remember the plot, I feel good recommending it. That significantly cuts down on the books about which I feel comfortable extolling virtue. There are a lot of really great YA urban fantasy series that rocked my toe socks (toe socks, incidentally, are freaking weird if you think about it; why does each toe need its own snuggly pocket?). But, because of the way I read, some of the finer points don't hang around in my head for long. The ones that do, the ones I could recount in great detail months after putting them down, those are the ones I tell people about.
For instance, I read the entire Dark-Hunter series (including anthology short stories) in one week. That's got to be close to 30 separate stories with the majority being full length novels. And this is a seriously in-depth world Sherrilyn Kenyon has created. You have to remember a lot of stuff for it all to make sense (most important point to remember, Acheron belongs to me. Just saying.) Despite the intense world-building, constantly growing cast of characters, and important pieces of information you need to remember from book 1 to book 20-something, I could give a five minute book talk about every story. They're just that good. Or, in my system of recommendation, memorable. To me, that's what makes a book worth telling your friends about.
Just for the record, Dark-Hunter novels are not YA. Those have just been recommended to grown-up type ladies. But Kenyon has started a YA companion series. In case it ever comes up.
If you remember minor details a year later, it's a damn good book.
That's what I'm working on in my novels now. Making sure they're memorable.
That doesn't make it less true, though. I do. I read a lot. A few weekends ago I read 9 books in two days. I also cleaned house, ran errands, wrote lesson plans, did several loads of laundry, and slept about 7 hours per night. Which is to say, I don't just read a lot. I read fast. Always have.
This is a skill that comes in mighty handy when I have 175 feature articles handed in on the same day and I need to read them all and make revision notes overnight. It does not come in handy for the purpose of book clubs. I'm always afraid to talk. What if I slip and say something about a plot point that the rest of the club hasn't gotten to yet? So I'm more a listener until everyone has finished. I don't mind.
I don't skim. I read. I feel this is an important distinction to make. I read for content just as much as anyone else. However, the fact I read so many novels in the same genre means things can get mixed up. I hate it, feel really guilty--like I'm betraying the author. But there's no help for it.
Because I read a little differently than a lot of people, I had to come up with my own system for making recommendations about books. I never expected to become the go-to gal for book recommendations, but being the writing specialist somehow came with the responsibility. I hate to tell my colleagues that I'm no more qualified to choose books than anyone else. It feels like failing if I don't at least try to help them find books they'll like. So, try I do.
My system for suggesting books is really simple: If I could read the next installment of a series without having to go back and reread the last to remember the plot, I feel good recommending it. That significantly cuts down on the books about which I feel comfortable extolling virtue. There are a lot of really great YA urban fantasy series that rocked my toe socks (toe socks, incidentally, are freaking weird if you think about it; why does each toe need its own snuggly pocket?). But, because of the way I read, some of the finer points don't hang around in my head for long. The ones that do, the ones I could recount in great detail months after putting them down, those are the ones I tell people about.
For instance, I read the entire Dark-Hunter series (including anthology short stories) in one week. That's got to be close to 30 separate stories with the majority being full length novels. And this is a seriously in-depth world Sherrilyn Kenyon has created. You have to remember a lot of stuff for it all to make sense (most important point to remember, Acheron belongs to me. Just saying.) Despite the intense world-building, constantly growing cast of characters, and important pieces of information you need to remember from book 1 to book 20-something, I could give a five minute book talk about every story. They're just that good. Or, in my system of recommendation, memorable. To me, that's what makes a book worth telling your friends about.
Just for the record, Dark-Hunter novels are not YA. Those have just been recommended to grown-up type ladies. But Kenyon has started a YA companion series. In case it ever comes up.
If you remember minor details a year later, it's a damn good book.
That's what I'm working on in my novels now. Making sure they're memorable.
Monday, July 5, 2010
It's a Small World After All
No. Really.
I am not sadistic in nature at all. I do not like to watch people crash and burn. I usually try to circumvent it happening if I see it coming. I can honestly say I would have stopped it this time, but I didn't put everything together in my head before it was too late.
Now, this is going to get tricky because there are a lot of names I will need to most specifically not say. So, we're going to call the people involved Agent A, Agent B, and Author S (S standing for screwed, just for a kicky bit of foreshadowing.)
The other day I was reading Agent A's blog. I don't follow this blog. I want to state that upfront so no one tries to guess who I'm talking about. While reading some back posts, I realized pretty quickly that Agent A is very good friends with Agent B though they don't work at the same agency. But from the tone of the banter they tossed back and forth, it was easy to see they were tight.
Sidebar: I think that's really sweet. Agents from two different agencies being pals. And further proof of just how small the world of publishing is. But I'm getting ahead of the story here.
Author S is a frequent commenter on Agent A's blog. I mean, frequent. I hypothesize that if Agent A said "I like oatmeal" Author S would have a forty line response to it. I guess there's nothing wrong with that. If creepy stalker is the identity you're looking to take on. It's not the constancy of Author S's replies that make me a little nervous for Agent A; it's the absolute slathering adoration Author S goes out of his/her way to put in each comment. It. Makes. Me. Twitch. There are other people who comment on nearly every post. The difference is the replies not belonging to Author S are insightful, pertinent to the topic at hand, and not buried in a bucket of prose about Agent A's status as the place wherein the sun rises and sets.
However, despite Author S's deep affection for Agent A, Author S doesn't appear to read for the actual content of Agent A's posts. Author S appears to skim just to have something to comment on. Otherwise Author S would surely have figured out what I did about Agent A and Agent B's friendship, especially considering Author S was a longtime follower of the blog. But no. Sadly. Author S didn't get it.
Sidebar 2: I don't know everything about trying to get an agent to offer representation. Please don't imagine I'm setting myself up as an expert. So am not. But I have a pretty good handle on logical decision-making. And a decent handle on just old-fashioned bad business.
A few days ago, Author S mentioned a query he/she sent to Agent A. Asked, basically, if Agent A had gotten it yet. Did Agent A think it was something he/she would want to represent? Not read. Represent. Even I know there's a missed step in there. Agent A did reply, which raised him/her in my estimation about a thousand percent. It was a very nice--albeit vague--response stating Author S would hear back after Agent A read the query.
I don't know anything else about what happened with Author S's query to Agent A. It was never mentioned again. Yesterday, Author S was back in full action. This time he/she was reaming an agent in absentia. Seriously, somewhere there was an effigy and it was a'burning.
An effigy of Agent B.
If you didn't see that coming, I worry about your limited deductive powers.
Really. It was horrifying to read. Horrifying and borderline terrifying. Author S not only called Agent B by name, Author S mentioned the name of the agency where Agent B works, and called both by names that, while not quite actual epithets, were pretty awful. He/She (Geez, that's getting old) talked about how unprofessional, stupid, ridiculous, etc. Agent B was.
Now, I won't quote what Agent A said to Author S. That would be searchable and I have no desire to get Author S any attention. But, wow. I might have been embarrassed for Author S if he/she hadn't deserved the tirade that was laid upon him/her.
I wouldn't, for anything, want to piss Agent A off. It was hardcore.
So, in brief. Don't talk about agents in public forums. No matter how pissed or hurt or disillusioned you might feel, don't do it. I know, I know. I had my own little rant about an agent the other day. But I never called the agent by name, never mentioned any identifying information, and only quoted an email sent directly to me. I've had a few people email me asking for the identity of the agent, couching the question as "I just don't want to make the mistake of querying this agent." They got bupkis. It's not my place to play query police, nor is it any other aspiring author's.
It really is a small world out there and it can go 'round and 'round without any one of us. It's hard enough to find representation without letting a tantrum destroy your chances.
Just my opinion. Do with it as you wish, m'kay?
I am not sadistic in nature at all. I do not like to watch people crash and burn. I usually try to circumvent it happening if I see it coming. I can honestly say I would have stopped it this time, but I didn't put everything together in my head before it was too late.
Now, this is going to get tricky because there are a lot of names I will need to most specifically not say. So, we're going to call the people involved Agent A, Agent B, and Author S (S standing for screwed, just for a kicky bit of foreshadowing.)
The other day I was reading Agent A's blog. I don't follow this blog. I want to state that upfront so no one tries to guess who I'm talking about. While reading some back posts, I realized pretty quickly that Agent A is very good friends with Agent B though they don't work at the same agency. But from the tone of the banter they tossed back and forth, it was easy to see they were tight.
Sidebar: I think that's really sweet. Agents from two different agencies being pals. And further proof of just how small the world of publishing is. But I'm getting ahead of the story here.
Author S is a frequent commenter on Agent A's blog. I mean, frequent. I hypothesize that if Agent A said "I like oatmeal" Author S would have a forty line response to it. I guess there's nothing wrong with that. If creepy stalker is the identity you're looking to take on. It's not the constancy of Author S's replies that make me a little nervous for Agent A; it's the absolute slathering adoration Author S goes out of his/her way to put in each comment. It. Makes. Me. Twitch. There are other people who comment on nearly every post. The difference is the replies not belonging to Author S are insightful, pertinent to the topic at hand, and not buried in a bucket of prose about Agent A's status as the place wherein the sun rises and sets.
However, despite Author S's deep affection for Agent A, Author S doesn't appear to read for the actual content of Agent A's posts. Author S appears to skim just to have something to comment on. Otherwise Author S would surely have figured out what I did about Agent A and Agent B's friendship, especially considering Author S was a longtime follower of the blog. But no. Sadly. Author S didn't get it.
Sidebar 2: I don't know everything about trying to get an agent to offer representation. Please don't imagine I'm setting myself up as an expert. So am not. But I have a pretty good handle on logical decision-making. And a decent handle on just old-fashioned bad business.
A few days ago, Author S mentioned a query he/she sent to Agent A. Asked, basically, if Agent A had gotten it yet. Did Agent A think it was something he/she would want to represent? Not read. Represent. Even I know there's a missed step in there. Agent A did reply, which raised him/her in my estimation about a thousand percent. It was a very nice--albeit vague--response stating Author S would hear back after Agent A read the query.
I don't know anything else about what happened with Author S's query to Agent A. It was never mentioned again. Yesterday, Author S was back in full action. This time he/she was reaming an agent in absentia. Seriously, somewhere there was an effigy and it was a'burning.
An effigy of Agent B.
If you didn't see that coming, I worry about your limited deductive powers.
Really. It was horrifying to read. Horrifying and borderline terrifying. Author S not only called Agent B by name, Author S mentioned the name of the agency where Agent B works, and called both by names that, while not quite actual epithets, were pretty awful. He/She (Geez, that's getting old) talked about how unprofessional, stupid, ridiculous, etc. Agent B was.
Now, I won't quote what Agent A said to Author S. That would be searchable and I have no desire to get Author S any attention. But, wow. I might have been embarrassed for Author S if he/she hadn't deserved the tirade that was laid upon him/her.
I wouldn't, for anything, want to piss Agent A off. It was hardcore.
So, in brief. Don't talk about agents in public forums. No matter how pissed or hurt or disillusioned you might feel, don't do it. I know, I know. I had my own little rant about an agent the other day. But I never called the agent by name, never mentioned any identifying information, and only quoted an email sent directly to me. I've had a few people email me asking for the identity of the agent, couching the question as "I just don't want to make the mistake of querying this agent." They got bupkis. It's not my place to play query police, nor is it any other aspiring author's.
It really is a small world out there and it can go 'round and 'round without any one of us. It's hard enough to find representation without letting a tantrum destroy your chances.
Just my opinion. Do with it as you wish, m'kay?
Editing for Fun
A really long time ago, I joined a writers' website called writing.com. If you are so inclined, you may find it here. I really enjoyed my time there and met a lot of really talented writers along the way. I won a bunch of contests and walked away with a couple of long-distance friendships. I can't say enough wonderful things about how this super in-depth website can help improve writing and give writers an outlet to connect with others who have similar interests. I love it.
I didn't let my membership lapse because I thought I'd gotten everything from the community I could. No, in fact, I gave up my membership because there are so many contests and forums and groups for aspiring writers that I found myself spending too much time working on things for the site and not enough on my long-term writing goals. If there's a pitfall of any kind, that would be it. It's easy to get caught up in the immediate feedback from other authors and find yourself writing short stories for peer-editing rather than novels. In some cases, that's a big bonus. For me, it was a dangerous distraction. Still though, good times.
Of the people I still keep in contact with, there's four in particular I really connected with. Each of them are fantastic writers, though they write in different genres. Among us, I'm the only one who writes YA. They served as beta readers for my recent novel and their insights helped me tons. One woman, a soft-spoken Southern Belle from Alabama, has a literary voice you can drown in but she's hell on plot holes. Vicious.
Let me paint you a picture. She'll never see five feet in her life; I'll be shocked if she ever weighs more than 100 pounds. She has curly blond hair and big brown eyes. Her cheeks are always perfectly pink and she only wears shimmery white eyeshadow and clear lipgloss. She favors lace and things she can crochet herself. She looks like a tiny, perfect child at the age of 29.
She writes erotica hot enough to melt ink off paper. Once she sent me an MS to edit; I still joke with her because my computer crashed the next day. I mean, her story probably didn't have anything to do with my computer shorting out. ....... ........
I would link to some of her stuff but I don't want to have to put a content restriction on my blog. And I would feel honor-bound to do it.
She sent me an email yesterday and asked if I was deep into anything for myself or one of the other three of our writing buddies. I told her I was prewriting a new idea. She knows I suck at prewriting and took pity on me. She sent me a new project to read over and asked if I'd email her any suggestions I had.
She always laughs when she asks me for suggestions about content. The only editorial comment I've ever made about content was "Can people actually do that?" She told me about this one time she...regardless. Turns out people can do that.
So I'm her mechanics editor. I doctor her their/there, her comma splices, and her obsessive use of semi-colons. Perhaps it's a side effect of the genre, but she's forever trying to join things with semi-colons.
I do not make suggestions or comments about what the people, ya' know, do. Squeebs me out to think of it. Not because I'm a prude. Because I would suck at writing it.
Sidebar: Erotica has got to be hard to write. I would never get through the first scene because I don't have the touch for it. "He put his you-know in her thingamajig" is NOT hot. Or hawt. Or remotely erotic. It's questionable to even call it an actual sentence. And that's as good as it gets.
I finished reading it and making editorial notes this afternoon. It's wonderful. The plot is sweet, the characters are completely likable. And flexible. Boy, howdy, are they flexible. Circus sideshow flexible. And the man, if I understood the subtle nuances of words like "huge" (and I believe I do) could damn near service the woman from another room. If you know what I mean.
If you don't, please don't ask me to explain it. Because my explanation is going to be something like:
His you-know was big. Like really big. Like, if it had a theme song it would be Whoomp, There it Is big.
So anyway, after I sent her the notes, she called me.
"How do you feel about throbbing versus pulsating?"
I answered thusly, because I am a jackassed idiot, "How do I feel about throbbing or pulsating in relation to what?"
After she finished laughing--and it took a minute or two--she explained what she meant.
"Oh." I said.
"So which do you like?"
"Um...either?" I asked by way of answering.
"No. It's two totally different things."
Is it now? Me, the girl who prides herself on finding exactly the right word, didn't get that.
Throbbing. Pulsating. See, I still don't get the distinction.
What, I wonder, is the quantifiable difference between the two?
The fact I don't get it is just another reason I would be bad at erotica.
I'd be very, very bad. I'd need to be span--
Nope, can't do it.
I didn't let my membership lapse because I thought I'd gotten everything from the community I could. No, in fact, I gave up my membership because there are so many contests and forums and groups for aspiring writers that I found myself spending too much time working on things for the site and not enough on my long-term writing goals. If there's a pitfall of any kind, that would be it. It's easy to get caught up in the immediate feedback from other authors and find yourself writing short stories for peer-editing rather than novels. In some cases, that's a big bonus. For me, it was a dangerous distraction. Still though, good times.
Of the people I still keep in contact with, there's four in particular I really connected with. Each of them are fantastic writers, though they write in different genres. Among us, I'm the only one who writes YA. They served as beta readers for my recent novel and their insights helped me tons. One woman, a soft-spoken Southern Belle from Alabama, has a literary voice you can drown in but she's hell on plot holes. Vicious.
Let me paint you a picture. She'll never see five feet in her life; I'll be shocked if she ever weighs more than 100 pounds. She has curly blond hair and big brown eyes. Her cheeks are always perfectly pink and she only wears shimmery white eyeshadow and clear lipgloss. She favors lace and things she can crochet herself. She looks like a tiny, perfect child at the age of 29.
She writes erotica hot enough to melt ink off paper. Once she sent me an MS to edit; I still joke with her because my computer crashed the next day. I mean, her story probably didn't have anything to do with my computer shorting out. ....... ........
I would link to some of her stuff but I don't want to have to put a content restriction on my blog. And I would feel honor-bound to do it.
She sent me an email yesterday and asked if I was deep into anything for myself or one of the other three of our writing buddies. I told her I was prewriting a new idea. She knows I suck at prewriting and took pity on me. She sent me a new project to read over and asked if I'd email her any suggestions I had.
She always laughs when she asks me for suggestions about content. The only editorial comment I've ever made about content was "Can people actually do that?" She told me about this one time she...regardless. Turns out people can do that.
So I'm her mechanics editor. I doctor her their/there, her comma splices, and her obsessive use of semi-colons. Perhaps it's a side effect of the genre, but she's forever trying to join things with semi-colons.
I do not make suggestions or comments about what the people, ya' know, do. Squeebs me out to think of it. Not because I'm a prude. Because I would suck at writing it.
Sidebar: Erotica has got to be hard to write. I would never get through the first scene because I don't have the touch for it. "He put his you-know in her thingamajig" is NOT hot. Or hawt. Or remotely erotic. It's questionable to even call it an actual sentence. And that's as good as it gets.
I finished reading it and making editorial notes this afternoon. It's wonderful. The plot is sweet, the characters are completely likable. And flexible. Boy, howdy, are they flexible. Circus sideshow flexible. And the man, if I understood the subtle nuances of words like "huge" (and I believe I do) could damn near service the woman from another room. If you know what I mean.
If you don't, please don't ask me to explain it. Because my explanation is going to be something like:
His you-know was big. Like really big. Like, if it had a theme song it would be Whoomp, There it Is big.
So anyway, after I sent her the notes, she called me.
"How do you feel about throbbing versus pulsating?"
I answered thusly, because I am a jackassed idiot, "How do I feel about throbbing or pulsating in relation to what?"
After she finished laughing--and it took a minute or two--she explained what she meant.
"Oh." I said.
"So which do you like?"
"Um...either?" I asked by way of answering.
"No. It's two totally different things."
Is it now? Me, the girl who prides herself on finding exactly the right word, didn't get that.
Throbbing. Pulsating. See, I still don't get the distinction.
What, I wonder, is the quantifiable difference between the two?
The fact I don't get it is just another reason I would be bad at erotica.
I'd be very, very bad. I'd need to be span--
Nope, can't do it.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
More Advice I Wish Someone Had Given Me
So you think you want to be a writer? For the record, it ain't easy, folks. The days of writing a novel, having it published, then writing another one and calling yourself an author are well past. It does not work that way anymore.
Add this to the list of shit I wish I'd known before now.
You need a web presence. Now it might seem, since you find some crazy stuff going viral on the Interwebs daily, that building and maintaining a web presence is easy. Nooooooo. Do not assume this.
See, for every crazy thing you see going viral, or every person who inexplicably has 10,000 Twitter followers, or every blog that is hyped from one side of the blog-o-sphere to the other, there's an exponentially larger number of videos, Tweets, and blogs going utterly unnoticed. For example, on my other blog, which I spent two years nurturing, I had more than 700 followers. Which is awesome. But it's a personal blog. At no point would I want the world to read about the time I...well, nevermind. The point is, I can't use that blog as a marketing tool. Heaven help me, no. So, for the purposes of a publishing career, that's two years down the pooper.
I also have a personal Twitter. My friends have a habit of TwitPic wars. Two days ago one of them posted a picture of me falling over the rail at a concert. Not even because I was drunk. Because I was standing on it and sneezed. See, no one needs to see that. Hell, I didn't even need to see that. So, another prime marketing tool. Down the pooper.
If you have a personal blog or Twitter or Facebook, awesome. Use it to stay in touch with that guy you met that one time whom you now stalk virtually. Do not assume you're going to be able to clean it up later and save all your followers. They know too much. They know you as the dumb chick who sneezed herself off a stadium railing. That is the tone that's been set in this, your virtual persona. You've got to treat those folks as mob stoolies. Only your true friends, the ones you know and can hit in real life, are going to avoid making you the author people make fun of by keeping their stories to themselves. Probably at the price of a shout-out on the acknowledgments page; and should it come to that, use 6 point font and get every person's name in there that knows things.
I'm kidding. My friends are awesome. And without them, my book wouldn't be possible.
Keep your personal blogs, Twitters, etc. private. Do not be lazy and throw those addresses out to keep from having to put in the work on a new online presence. Do not link to them in your query letters. No one wants to represent, I'm guessing, the author who has a picture of herself, ankles over drunk ass, with 2,000 comments about how hawt you look. I could be wrong about this, I suppose. Try it out. Let me know how it goes.
I wish someone had pointed this out to me before now. Starting from scratch is a long, often irritating process. Plus, now I gotta keep up with two blogs and two Twitters. I'm blogging and Tweeting my brains out over here. And there's always that moment of fear, the one following a new post, when you go, "Damn. Did I post that to the wrong one?"
Even if you just wrote the first sentence on what will surely be your Printz award winning book one day, get started. You'll be amazed how much longer it takes to cement a viable web presence than to write a novel and begin querying.
Add this to the list of shit I wish I'd known before now.
You need a web presence. Now it might seem, since you find some crazy stuff going viral on the Interwebs daily, that building and maintaining a web presence is easy. Nooooooo. Do not assume this.
See, for every crazy thing you see going viral, or every person who inexplicably has 10,000 Twitter followers, or every blog that is hyped from one side of the blog-o-sphere to the other, there's an exponentially larger number of videos, Tweets, and blogs going utterly unnoticed. For example, on my other blog, which I spent two years nurturing, I had more than 700 followers. Which is awesome. But it's a personal blog. At no point would I want the world to read about the time I...well, nevermind. The point is, I can't use that blog as a marketing tool. Heaven help me, no. So, for the purposes of a publishing career, that's two years down the pooper.
I also have a personal Twitter. My friends have a habit of TwitPic wars. Two days ago one of them posted a picture of me falling over the rail at a concert. Not even because I was drunk. Because I was standing on it and sneezed. See, no one needs to see that. Hell, I didn't even need to see that. So, another prime marketing tool. Down the pooper.
If you have a personal blog or Twitter or Facebook, awesome. Use it to stay in touch with that guy you met that one time whom you now stalk virtually. Do not assume you're going to be able to clean it up later and save all your followers. They know too much. They know you as the dumb chick who sneezed herself off a stadium railing. That is the tone that's been set in this, your virtual persona. You've got to treat those folks as mob stoolies. Only your true friends, the ones you know and can hit in real life, are going to avoid making you the author people make fun of by keeping their stories to themselves. Probably at the price of a shout-out on the acknowledgments page; and should it come to that, use 6 point font and get every person's name in there that knows things.
I'm kidding. My friends are awesome. And without them, my book wouldn't be possible.
Keep your personal blogs, Twitters, etc. private. Do not be lazy and throw those addresses out to keep from having to put in the work on a new online presence. Do not link to them in your query letters. No one wants to represent, I'm guessing, the author who has a picture of herself, ankles over drunk ass, with 2,000 comments about how hawt you look. I could be wrong about this, I suppose. Try it out. Let me know how it goes.
I wish someone had pointed this out to me before now. Starting from scratch is a long, often irritating process. Plus, now I gotta keep up with two blogs and two Twitters. I'm blogging and Tweeting my brains out over here. And there's always that moment of fear, the one following a new post, when you go, "Damn. Did I post that to the wrong one?"
Even if you just wrote the first sentence on what will surely be your Printz award winning book one day, get started. You'll be amazed how much longer it takes to cement a viable web presence than to write a novel and begin querying.
But...I Write YA
I've written one novel for adults. It's so far from my usual style, I don't even include it in my number. Kind of like that girl you went to school with who was "technically" a virgin until she got married because there was always some reason her trysts didn't count.
Fine, technically I've written five books and am still not published. I queried for only two of them though, so I don't think the other three should count against me.
I realize that's a lot of books written with no intention of trying to get them published. So sue me. I like to write.
Last night I had a dream. It was so vivid and so tangible for lack of a better word, it threw me for a few hours. I kind of had trouble pulling out of the dream. I just wanted to keep thinking about it. Now I feel this knee-jerk urge to write it. I can push aside all the details and see the core of a fantastic plot.
But, see. I write young adult novels. I always have..except for the one time that doesn't count. Would you please stop mentioning it?!? I write YA, okay?
And the part of my dream that keeps finding its way back into my conscious thoughts is not for the YA audience. Not at all. I blush to consider it. It would fit more comfortably with the kind of scenes found in the Fever series (and if you haven't read it, you should. Because it's a-MA-zing.)
So, short post, big problem.
Write something so outside my genre I'll probably never try to publish it, or stick with work that actually might get me somewhere?
*Torn*
Fine, technically I've written five books and am still not published. I queried for only two of them though, so I don't think the other three should count against me.
I realize that's a lot of books written with no intention of trying to get them published. So sue me. I like to write.
Last night I had a dream. It was so vivid and so tangible for lack of a better word, it threw me for a few hours. I kind of had trouble pulling out of the dream. I just wanted to keep thinking about it. Now I feel this knee-jerk urge to write it. I can push aside all the details and see the core of a fantastic plot.
But, see. I write young adult novels. I always have..except for the one time that doesn't count. Would you please stop mentioning it?!? I write YA, okay?
And the part of my dream that keeps finding its way back into my conscious thoughts is not for the YA audience. Not at all. I blush to consider it. It would fit more comfortably with the kind of scenes found in the Fever series (and if you haven't read it, you should. Because it's a-MA-zing.)
So, short post, big problem.
Write something so outside my genre I'll probably never try to publish it, or stick with work that actually might get me somewhere?
*Torn*
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Google: Agent Name+the Word Interview=Less Stupidity
In the world of the pre-published writer--I can't even write that label with a straight face. What is a pre-published writer, really? If it just means you write stuff that's never been published then there are kajillions of pre-published writers and some of them will never have a passing thought about changing their status. Most likely, no one will ever offer to publish Mary Sue Random's grocery list. But she wrote it, didn't she?
As with everything else, there's a t shirt if you really want to identify yourself this way. To each their own. If I see someone wearing one, I probably won't hit them.
Okay, okay. Some of this anger is a wee bit self-directed. Because I have done wrong. I have done a big, bad, ugly wrong and I can't undo it. Or at least I can't undo it without looking like a complete flaky moron. I'm pretty sure one should avoid that when dealing with one's dream agent.
Because then one has to wear this.
Lo and a month ago, I sent a query to an agent. I'd worked quite a bit on the query and felt it had come a long way since my first draft. Wonder of wonders, I got myself a shiny, happy request for the full. And, no, it wasn't my first. But it was my first from an agent I really, really wanted to like me.
Sidebar (I like sidebars.): I've heard lots of writers say they didn't have a specific agent in mind when they began the process of seeking representation. That they intended to wait and see who they clicked with. To which I reply, Liar, liar, your pants are soooo on fire. Because we all have agents in mind we'd be thrilled to land. It's like going to a party sans date, seeing a hot guy across the room, and saying to yourself "Eh, I could go after him. Or that other guy in the corner. Or that guy over there. Any of them are fine."
That, I hope, doesn't often happen. Sure, unpubbed writers are worthy contenders for the "beggars can't be choosers" mentality. But even the most downtrodden beggars have hopes and dreams, and they are probably pretty specific, too.
Close sidebar.
Yes, I did my research and sent a query that was good enough to get the request I had hoped for. So...yay! Good for me, right?
No. Well, maybe. See, I made a roooookie mistake. I did research about the agent. I did research about the agency where she works. I used Query Tracker and Absolute Write and whatever the hell else I could find. I did NOT, however, type the following specific words into a search box:
Angent Name Interview. That is where I effed myself backwards.
Searching for an agent by name or agency name is fine. Often it spews back all sorts of delectable little morsels of agenty goodness. It doesn't always get the agent's interviews toward the top of the returns. Top billing, as it were. They're usually in there somewhere, but it might be on page 14.
Not good because by page 8 you're usually getting things along the lines of "Agent Awesome will be attending X conference." You know, bit mentions. So you assume you've found all the available information and you end up effed backwards, just like yours truly.
You don't want to join this club. We wear hair shirts and wail from the widow walk of our tree house of stupidity. We have no cookies.
So I got the request for a novel I love. This IS good. But it's not all about what I love. I've written four books. I have a deep affection for all of them. The first two, as mentioned in another post, are pretty haggard. It's like giving birth to a child all the teachers come to hate because he's an irritating little brat but you love him because he's yours.
While I got the request, I got the request for a book Agent Awesome might love. But I have another MS that, according to an interview I JUST READ TODAY, is so close to exactly what she's actively looking for as to be unbelievably coincidental. Truly, her blurb about what she hopes to find is damn close to the query for the other novel.
So, lesson to everyone. Before you query, search specifically for interviews given by your dream agent ('cause you KNOW you have one) and read for content. Don't assume a search with just the agent or agency's name is going to score you the good stuff. Interviews give agents a chance to be candid about what they want and what they're actively looking for at this very moment. That kind of up-to-date information helps.
Don't repeat my stupidity.
As with everything else, there's a t shirt if you really want to identify yourself this way. To each their own. If I see someone wearing one, I probably won't hit them.
Okay, okay. Some of this anger is a wee bit self-directed. Because I have done wrong. I have done a big, bad, ugly wrong and I can't undo it. Or at least I can't undo it without looking like a complete flaky moron. I'm pretty sure one should avoid that when dealing with one's dream agent.
Because then one has to wear this.
Lo and a month ago, I sent a query to an agent. I'd worked quite a bit on the query and felt it had come a long way since my first draft. Wonder of wonders, I got myself a shiny, happy request for the full. And, no, it wasn't my first. But it was my first from an agent I really, really wanted to like me.
Sidebar (I like sidebars.): I've heard lots of writers say they didn't have a specific agent in mind when they began the process of seeking representation. That they intended to wait and see who they clicked with. To which I reply, Liar, liar, your pants are soooo on fire. Because we all have agents in mind we'd be thrilled to land. It's like going to a party sans date, seeing a hot guy across the room, and saying to yourself "Eh, I could go after him. Or that other guy in the corner. Or that guy over there. Any of them are fine."
That, I hope, doesn't often happen. Sure, unpubbed writers are worthy contenders for the "beggars can't be choosers" mentality. But even the most downtrodden beggars have hopes and dreams, and they are probably pretty specific, too.
Close sidebar.
Yes, I did my research and sent a query that was good enough to get the request I had hoped for. So...yay! Good for me, right?
No. Well, maybe. See, I made a roooookie mistake. I did research about the agent. I did research about the agency where she works. I used Query Tracker and Absolute Write and whatever the hell else I could find. I did NOT, however, type the following specific words into a search box:
Angent Name Interview. That is where I effed myself backwards.
Searching for an agent by name or agency name is fine. Often it spews back all sorts of delectable little morsels of agenty goodness. It doesn't always get the agent's interviews toward the top of the returns. Top billing, as it were. They're usually in there somewhere, but it might be on page 14.
Not good because by page 8 you're usually getting things along the lines of "Agent Awesome will be attending X conference." You know, bit mentions. So you assume you've found all the available information and you end up effed backwards, just like yours truly.
You don't want to join this club. We wear hair shirts and wail from the widow walk of our tree house of stupidity. We have no cookies.
So I got the request for a novel I love. This IS good. But it's not all about what I love. I've written four books. I have a deep affection for all of them. The first two, as mentioned in another post, are pretty haggard. It's like giving birth to a child all the teachers come to hate because he's an irritating little brat but you love him because he's yours.
While I got the request, I got the request for a book Agent Awesome might love. But I have another MS that, according to an interview I JUST READ TODAY, is so close to exactly what she's actively looking for as to be unbelievably coincidental. Truly, her blurb about what she hopes to find is damn close to the query for the other novel.
So, lesson to everyone. Before you query, search specifically for interviews given by your dream agent ('cause you KNOW you have one) and read for content. Don't assume a search with just the agent or agency's name is going to score you the good stuff. Interviews give agents a chance to be candid about what they want and what they're actively looking for at this very moment. That kind of up-to-date information helps.
Don't repeat my stupidity.
Quote Post
In my classroom there is a wall. Before this room was mine, back when it was a rough faux wood door, a stretch of threadbare carpet, and a desk with tricky metal shards sticking out from time-warped legs, this wall was an anemic shade of white.
This was yet another time I proved to myself that any blank stretch of white translates to my brain as something that must be written or painted on. I did both.
I, along with the help of my art school drop out best friend, painted quotes about writing from the ceiling to the floor. I bled color all over what was now my wall. And at the very bottom, removed enough from the words of great authors so as not to be the presumptuous interloper at the party, I carefully dabbed my own quote onto the wall. Maybe we'll come back to that one someday.
But for now, there's one quote that has been on my mind the last few hours. It was the first one I knew I had to put on that wall and has remained the one most students ask me about. It goes a little something like this--actually it goes a exactly like this because I copied and pasted it:
It is an extremely empowering thought for my kids. It gives them presence, validation, and ownership of their work.
Most of the basic material a writer works with is acquired before the age of fifteen. Damn.
See, here's what I think. The most grab-you-by-the-throat-and-make-you-think assertions are those that are succinctly deep. These quotes are the ones that use the fewest words to open the greatest number of thought paths. Great quotes take seconds to read, days to fully assimilate, and a lifetime to truly "get."
That's what I think, anyway. Don't quote me on it though.
The reason this quote had such an impact on me--on the surface level anyway--is simple. I teach students of this age. I see hundreds every day. And now I look at them and think God, they're there. Everything I try to put in my writing is fresh and tangible to them at this very moment. Right now. They have depths of what YA writers thrive on and it hasn't even been tapped yet. And I'm simultaneously awe-struck and inspired by them.
I learn as much from these kids as they are ever going to learn from me. I'm that teacher they come hang out with between classes, ask to come to ballgames, take pictures with at graduation. I am, in a way, reliving that distant point in my life vicariously and getting a hell of a lot more from it this time around than I could have the first time.
Young adults have so much room for raw, uncensored feeling. I'm breaking down the walls I've built up through adulthood. Walls that steal that freedom to feel and experience and just be. I'm getting back to when things were just experienced and not studied, analyzed, and pigeonholed to the point the richness of the thing is squeezed dry.
And my writing, I can attest, has benefited from this.
At the end of the year, when it's time for my students to leave me and move on, I find myself watching each of them and wondering what's inside them. What they know that I've forgotten. Somehow, knowing they have such limitless abilities to do anything they want makes it a little easier to let them go.
This was yet another time I proved to myself that any blank stretch of white translates to my brain as something that must be written or painted on. I did both.
I, along with the help of my art school drop out best friend, painted quotes about writing from the ceiling to the floor. I bled color all over what was now my wall. And at the very bottom, removed enough from the words of great authors so as not to be the presumptuous interloper at the party, I carefully dabbed my own quote onto the wall. Maybe we'll come back to that one someday.
But for now, there's one quote that has been on my mind the last few hours. It was the first one I knew I had to put on that wall and has remained the one most students ask me about. It goes a little something like this--actually it goes a exactly like this because I copied and pasted it:
- Most of the basic material a writer works with is acquired before the age of fifteen.
- - Willa Cather
It is an extremely empowering thought for my kids. It gives them presence, validation, and ownership of their work.
Most of the basic material a writer works with is acquired before the age of fifteen. Damn.
See, here's what I think. The most grab-you-by-the-throat-and-make-you-think assertions are those that are succinctly deep. These quotes are the ones that use the fewest words to open the greatest number of thought paths. Great quotes take seconds to read, days to fully assimilate, and a lifetime to truly "get."
That's what I think, anyway. Don't quote me on it though.
The reason this quote had such an impact on me--on the surface level anyway--is simple. I teach students of this age. I see hundreds every day. And now I look at them and think God, they're there. Everything I try to put in my writing is fresh and tangible to them at this very moment. Right now. They have depths of what YA writers thrive on and it hasn't even been tapped yet. And I'm simultaneously awe-struck and inspired by them.
I learn as much from these kids as they are ever going to learn from me. I'm that teacher they come hang out with between classes, ask to come to ballgames, take pictures with at graduation. I am, in a way, reliving that distant point in my life vicariously and getting a hell of a lot more from it this time around than I could have the first time.
Young adults have so much room for raw, uncensored feeling. I'm breaking down the walls I've built up through adulthood. Walls that steal that freedom to feel and experience and just be. I'm getting back to when things were just experienced and not studied, analyzed, and pigeonholed to the point the richness of the thing is squeezed dry.
And my writing, I can attest, has benefited from this.
At the end of the year, when it's time for my students to leave me and move on, I find myself watching each of them and wondering what's inside them. What they know that I've forgotten. Somehow, knowing they have such limitless abilities to do anything they want makes it a little easier to let them go.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Rethinking the Form Reject
Writers seem to unanimously hate the form reject. Sure, even I've wondered if agents' keyboards look different from ours. Like they have a specific little red button labeled "hell no" and they hit that when they want to remove uninteresting queries as quickly and completely as possible. I haven't reached the place where I actually find myself annoyed by the form reject.
And pray I never will. Because, you know, I don't get anymore. That'd be just lovely.
I mostly imagine them to be a necessary evil all around. I'm sure there are times when agents have much more specific comments they'd like to make just as we would love to have specific feedback. But I can see how agents might have to take a hard line on form/personal Rs. If you tailor rejection for one writer, how do you justify not doing the same for all the others? Then you double your query response time and time, as we know, is money.
Plus, most writers have a day job and agenting is an agent's day job so they want manuscripts that will keep the lights on. Or so I assume.
So form rejections don't really piss me off. What does piss me off is when an agent might have just done me a real favor by hitting that red button and leaving it alone. Sometimes it's best NOT to know why a no is a no. Believe me.
To wit: I recently received the following rejection on a partial (and for the record, I don't feel bad posting this for two reasons. 1. I'm certainly not going to mention any names because that would be disgustingly unprofessional; and 2. Every writer who comes across this will be able to say "at least that didn't happen to me." I want someone, somewhere to get some use out of this.)
Ms. Coleman,
While I enjoyed reading your work (FYI, I knew I was screwed right here) I won't be requesting further pages. To be honest, you're a very talented writer and your voice is likely to appeal to YA audiences as well as potential cross-over readers. I like the balance of humor and edgy plot. (I was feeling pretty good around this point. Pretty damn fine, indeed.) Yet, I have to be honest when I tell you that it's a bit too ambitious for a writer from Eastern Kentucky. You've incorporated a lot of literary references that are going to seem inconsistent with your roots. I wouldn't know how to market you. (Here the words 'what the hell' began to swirl around in my head.) If you write anything more fitting of your geographical location, please send it to me. (You should not hold your breath, my dear.)
Sincerely,
Agent Douche
No, the agent's name clearly isn't Douche. And I feel a little bad even adding that disparaging remark despite the fact no one will ever know to whom I'm referring.
I don't like it when people assume that stereotypes are true. Not about races, genders, or even "geographical locations." This is something I've lived with my entire life. This assumption that I must not be capable of intelligent discourse because I've got my roots buried in the Bluegrass. I didn't like it when Diane Sawyers pulled this crap and I didn't like it when a literary agent I had a whole lot of respect for did it.
I suppose it hits me on two levels, as a writer and educator. More so as a writing specialist. If this agent assumes people can't write with intellectual authenticity because they're from Eastern Kentucky, why in the hell am I bothering to get up every morning?
See, that's the other reason (besides my own driving need) that I will keep right on until I'm published. If we don't break these stereotypes, my kids are going into the world at a distinct disadvantage. Worse, if writing a literary professional believes to be good can't pass muster because of the return zip code, then how can I give up--not only on myself but on the hope it can be different for the kids I face every day?
Anyway, bottom line time. If a form rejection is the flip side of this type of rejection, I'll happily remain a red button kind of writer. Right up until someone sees the value of my writing is worth more than the difficulty of convincing the world it could be written by someone from my neck of the woods. More importantly, I don't think the world is quite so narrow-minded as to doubt that possibility.
This problem, I feel, belongs solely to one agent in particular and shouldn't be considered a reflection on the rest of the wonderful people who take up this difficult profession.
Okay. Rant now over.
And pray I never will. Because, you know, I don't get anymore. That'd be just lovely.
I mostly imagine them to be a necessary evil all around. I'm sure there are times when agents have much more specific comments they'd like to make just as we would love to have specific feedback. But I can see how agents might have to take a hard line on form/personal Rs. If you tailor rejection for one writer, how do you justify not doing the same for all the others? Then you double your query response time and time, as we know, is money.
Plus, most writers have a day job and agenting is an agent's day job so they want manuscripts that will keep the lights on. Or so I assume.
So form rejections don't really piss me off. What does piss me off is when an agent might have just done me a real favor by hitting that red button and leaving it alone. Sometimes it's best NOT to know why a no is a no. Believe me.
To wit: I recently received the following rejection on a partial (and for the record, I don't feel bad posting this for two reasons. 1. I'm certainly not going to mention any names because that would be disgustingly unprofessional; and 2. Every writer who comes across this will be able to say "at least that didn't happen to me." I want someone, somewhere to get some use out of this.)
Ms. Coleman,
While I enjoyed reading your work (FYI, I knew I was screwed right here) I won't be requesting further pages. To be honest, you're a very talented writer and your voice is likely to appeal to YA audiences as well as potential cross-over readers. I like the balance of humor and edgy plot. (I was feeling pretty good around this point. Pretty damn fine, indeed.) Yet, I have to be honest when I tell you that it's a bit too ambitious for a writer from Eastern Kentucky. You've incorporated a lot of literary references that are going to seem inconsistent with your roots. I wouldn't know how to market you. (Here the words 'what the hell' began to swirl around in my head.) If you write anything more fitting of your geographical location, please send it to me. (You should not hold your breath, my dear.)
Sincerely,
Agent Douche
No, the agent's name clearly isn't Douche. And I feel a little bad even adding that disparaging remark despite the fact no one will ever know to whom I'm referring.
I don't like it when people assume that stereotypes are true. Not about races, genders, or even "geographical locations." This is something I've lived with my entire life. This assumption that I must not be capable of intelligent discourse because I've got my roots buried in the Bluegrass. I didn't like it when Diane Sawyers pulled this crap and I didn't like it when a literary agent I had a whole lot of respect for did it.
I suppose it hits me on two levels, as a writer and educator. More so as a writing specialist. If this agent assumes people can't write with intellectual authenticity because they're from Eastern Kentucky, why in the hell am I bothering to get up every morning?
See, that's the other reason (besides my own driving need) that I will keep right on until I'm published. If we don't break these stereotypes, my kids are going into the world at a distinct disadvantage. Worse, if writing a literary professional believes to be good can't pass muster because of the return zip code, then how can I give up--not only on myself but on the hope it can be different for the kids I face every day?
Anyway, bottom line time. If a form rejection is the flip side of this type of rejection, I'll happily remain a red button kind of writer. Right up until someone sees the value of my writing is worth more than the difficulty of convincing the world it could be written by someone from my neck of the woods. More importantly, I don't think the world is quite so narrow-minded as to doubt that possibility.
This problem, I feel, belongs solely to one agent in particular and shouldn't be considered a reflection on the rest of the wonderful people who take up this difficult profession.
Okay. Rant now over.
The Unexpected Thing
I learn something new about the path to being published every day. Truly, it's the most hardcore, hands-on lessons I've ever been given.
I know I ranted a bit last night about feeling unworthy in my own writing. I think this is a furthering of that emotion.
I thought I would be very excited to have five agents reading my work. For the record, I would hate anyone whose blog I came across and they were whining about five agents reading their work. I wouldn't begrudge them their happiness, I would begrudge them their right to bitch about it.
So please believe I'm not actively bitching. I'm thrilled--deep in the gut happy--that five people out of eleven wanted to read anything I've written. I'm not being weepy; I might be hedging toward angsty. My problem is another I couldn't have foreseen.
The more people who are reading my MS, the more people who could reject it. And this is not a reject based on the dreaded query I'm talking about. I don't care how talented you are. Writing queries is an animal of a whole other breed. You can't spend ten minutes on a writers' website without being offered a book to improve your query. Or an article, or blog post, or the contact info of someone who specializes in doctoring queries. The latter of which, I must honestly admit, feels distinctly like cheating.
So I've come to terms with the fact my queries probably suck out loud. At least a little.
But my novel. Hell, that's what I do. I'm a writer. I write. Writing is me. So if my novel is rejected, that's big. Big, hairy, and ugly. The novel has been written, edited, and polished within an inch of its sweet little life. I've done my best, or the best I can do without feedback. I'm a writing teacher; I deeply understand the failings of the human mind in regard to self-editing. My students can't get a misplaced comma past me on a slow day. But in my own writing, I either see what's not there as though it was, or I miss things that shouldn't be there at all.
If I'm rejected at this point, does that mean I quit?
No. Because as the bio says, dammit, I can't.
I know I ranted a bit last night about feeling unworthy in my own writing. I think this is a furthering of that emotion.
I thought I would be very excited to have five agents reading my work. For the record, I would hate anyone whose blog I came across and they were whining about five agents reading their work. I wouldn't begrudge them their happiness, I would begrudge them their right to bitch about it.
So please believe I'm not actively bitching. I'm thrilled--deep in the gut happy--that five people out of eleven wanted to read anything I've written. I'm not being weepy; I might be hedging toward angsty. My problem is another I couldn't have foreseen.
The more people who are reading my MS, the more people who could reject it. And this is not a reject based on the dreaded query I'm talking about. I don't care how talented you are. Writing queries is an animal of a whole other breed. You can't spend ten minutes on a writers' website without being offered a book to improve your query. Or an article, or blog post, or the contact info of someone who specializes in doctoring queries. The latter of which, I must honestly admit, feels distinctly like cheating.
So I've come to terms with the fact my queries probably suck out loud. At least a little.
But my novel. Hell, that's what I do. I'm a writer. I write. Writing is me. So if my novel is rejected, that's big. Big, hairy, and ugly. The novel has been written, edited, and polished within an inch of its sweet little life. I've done my best, or the best I can do without feedback. I'm a writing teacher; I deeply understand the failings of the human mind in regard to self-editing. My students can't get a misplaced comma past me on a slow day. But in my own writing, I either see what's not there as though it was, or I miss things that shouldn't be there at all.
If I'm rejected at this point, does that mean I quit?
No. Because as the bio says, dammit, I can't.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Agents Reading My Book
No matter how many people ask to read my novel, I feel squeeby every single time. Which is crazy because, clearly, agents reading my work is the whole point of sending out queries. It's just...I always have an attack of "what makes you think you have the right to waste very busy people's time with your delusions of authoring?" Every. Time.
Why? Why do I hesitate? Why do I second guess myself until I feel like I'm chasing my own tail?
Due to the wonder of Twittering tweets, I've come into contact with a few authors who have already reached the promise land of publication. I've actually gone beyond the "love your work", "hey thanks" stage with a couple of them. And so, yes, I asked if this is a common feeling.
One author told me she emailed her MS to an agent and then emailed an hour later asking the agent to disregard the novel because she, the author, was a million and a quarter percent sure it sucked. I haven't done that. Yet.
Lovely author and I continued the discussion and I asked if this feeling of "I'm not good enough" ever goes away completely. She sent me an LOL and a smiley face and a big fat "hell no."
Awesome.
Now I've come to an important conclusion. It does not matter if I think I suck. I will cheerily think of my self as a cesspool of suck...as long as agents, editors, and readers think I'm wrong.
Why? Why do I hesitate? Why do I second guess myself until I feel like I'm chasing my own tail?
Due to the wonder of Twittering tweets, I've come into contact with a few authors who have already reached the promise land of publication. I've actually gone beyond the "love your work", "hey thanks" stage with a couple of them. And so, yes, I asked if this is a common feeling.
One author told me she emailed her MS to an agent and then emailed an hour later asking the agent to disregard the novel because she, the author, was a million and a quarter percent sure it sucked. I haven't done that. Yet.
Lovely author and I continued the discussion and I asked if this feeling of "I'm not good enough" ever goes away completely. She sent me an LOL and a smiley face and a big fat "hell no."
Awesome.
Now I've come to an important conclusion. It does not matter if I think I suck. I will cheerily think of my self as a cesspool of suck...as long as agents, editors, and readers think I'm wrong.
As Of Five Minutes Ago...
I am officially still an employed educator.
I am very thankful for this blessing. So many quality teachers aren't going to be celebrating the same announcement.
I am very thankful for this blessing. So many quality teachers aren't going to be celebrating the same announcement.
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