5 Shocking Things No Query Letter Needs

Literary agent Rachelle Gardner recently blogged advice about Two Things To Leave Out of Your Query: namely, any reference to how long you have been writing and whether or not God told you to write a book. Which got me thinking -- Really? People need to be told this?

Evidently the answer is "yes." You see, so much information abounds on the internet about what to put in one's query that people might (mistakenly) surmise that if they include something not mentioned in the list of things a query needs, they will be adding some super Sekrit Ingredient that will give them that all-important edge and propel them to stardom representation.

Sadly, this is not the case.

So, in the interests of overworked interns and longsuffering agents everywhere, I proffer the following list of Things No Query Needs. You know: in case you were wondering. Now you can't say no one ever told you...

Not even if you wrote a book about wiener dogs...

1. Naked Photos of You

While it's true that you want to craft your query in such a way as to stand out and get noticed, a query letter is not the literary equivalent of eHarmony. Stick with a well-written bio. Ixnay on the ong-thay.

Your query letter to a prospective agent or editor should include some short, relevant biographical information. It should not, however, include your picture. Especially if you are wearing only what God gave you.

2. References to How Much Your Family / Friends Love Your Work

You wouldn't say "my kids love the wagon I made for them, so I know I'd make a great engineer for your company" would you?

Let me give you the cheat-sheet answer: No. You wouldn't.

Now, I'm not knocking your family. Your family loves you. You have inflicted your work on them and no one has stood up and said "if I have to hear the story about the killer dust bunny one more time I will stab myself in the eye with a fork." Great! Maybe they really mean it when they say they love it. Maybe they really mean it when they say they love your Bean Curd Casserole too. But that doesn't mean you need to mention either their love for your work OR your cooking in a query.

Let your writing speak for itself. Leave your family and friends out of it.

3.  Snarky Comments About What Is Being Published

So you think "Twilight" sucks? Think the success of "50 Shades of Grey" is responsible for the horsemen of the Apocalypse saddling up to ride? Think the fact that Snooki is a published author (::snerk::) and you're not shows how truly screwed up the publishing industry is? Fine. Go ahead and think whatever you want.

But for God's sake, don't say it in your query.

Which ties directly to...

4.  Bragging

"Me! Me! Me! I am the greatest thing since... Me!"

If the agents on Twitter are to be believed (and why would they lie?), every so often a query will come into their inboxes that says something like "Attention Agent: I have written the best thing the universe has ever seen. I only hope that you are intelligent enough to recognize my talent when you see it."

For shame! 

By all means, if you've won major writing awards or been published in a significant way, mention it. But let's be clear: you haven't written the best thing the universe has ever seen. Whoever itemized the ingredients of a Snickers bar and committed the words to paper beat you to it. Sorry.

Even if you've written the second best thing in the universe, it's time to take a break from your ego trip and let someone new (not you) sing your praises.

5. Non-Sequiturs and Oxymorons

No, I did not just make a racial or religious slur. Nor did I call you an ox or a moron. (FYI: lest there be some confusion, slurs and insults of any kind also do not belong in a query letter. Just sayin'.) The point is: things that don't follow logic or reason, that highlight your n00b-ness -- and not in a good way -- should be scrubbed from your query before you hit "send."

For instance, you have NOT just written a non-fiction novel. Novels, by definition, are fiction. Sort of like English Sheepdogs are... you know... dogs. Suggesting that a novel can be non-fiction is like arguing that fluffy Fido might be a harp seal.

"The Drunken Kitten: A Bedtime Story."
It seemed like a good idea at the time...

In the same vein, you haven't written a middle-grade novel of 150,000 words with a drug addicted 23-year old protagonist.

You haven't written a children's book that consists entirely of a single word that is wildly inappropriate for young readers ("INFANTICIDE!") repeated 100 times.

You haven't written an autobiography of Hitler. Unless, of course, you are Hitler.

You haven't written a literary novel of 15,000 words.  You also haven't written a novella of 250,000 words.

No. Stop arguing. Just: no.

Now here's where people might suggest that I'm being unreasonable. "You can't limit art," they might say, before commenting that each of the aforementioned examples might make a darn good book.

But, see, they would be wrong. "Arty" or not, each of the examples has a serious logical or categorical flaw. Before you write your query, you need to know into what genre your book falls. You need to know who will read it. If you want to write a kick-butt book about a 23-year old drug addict, go right ahead. But don't peddle it to agents who only rep MG -- for many of the same reasons that you wouldn't buy a keg for your kid's eighth-grade graduation party.

You have a book you can't wait to query? Great! Spend some time -- some significant time -- studying the genre you write. Know who is currently writing the bestsellers in it. Study the authors and the agents who rep them. Familiarize yourself with what is being done. Know what the typical word count is. Know what you like. Know what you don't like. Then get online and study examples of query letters in your genre.

When you craft your query letter, be able to speak with confidence about your genre and where your book will fall within it. When it comes to writing your book, you might be able to get away with making it up as you go along. But when it comes to writing the query, the shocking truth is that only by studying what agents actually want will you find an agent who wants you.

Agree? Disagree? What did I miss in the List of Things No Query Letter Needs? Chime in below...

For the Sake of Argument

I remember very little of my actual university course work, but I remember most of my "American Literature" class. Not because the professor was interesting, erudite, or inspired in any way. Far from it. The best that could be said for him was that if recorded speaking, he could singlehandedly wipe out insomnia. Ah, but in that class we read books. Good books. Great books! After reading them we not only got to discuss them -- but we were actually encouraged to do so!

I was 19, so I, of course, knew everything. I had read most of the titles required for the class before graduating high school and considered Twain, Hawthorne, Poe, and Salinger old friends. I'd read enough Hemingway, Steinbeck, and Crane to know that their work didn't speak to me in the same way my "friends" did. I had definite opinions and was thrilled to discover a kindred spirit in the class.

T. was 10 years older than I. Not only did she have opinions, but -- praises be! -- her views on literature differed significantly from mine. On many occasions, the two of us would take over the class with our discussion of the work at hand. The professor never stopped us. I'm not sure he could have. And the other students would privately thank us for Siskel-and-Eberting because they learned more and found the class more interesting than when the professor droned on unchallenged.

That class introduced me to F. Scott Fitzgerald. How I'd managed to miss out on reading him before then, I'll never know, but I became an instant fan. We read "The Great Gatsby," and it was like finding a book that someone had written just for me. Oh. My. God, how I loved all of its glorious, golden tragic excess.

Until I got to the end.

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

WTF?

To young, know-it-all me, that was the DUMBEST ENDING EVER. I thought just about any ending would have been better than that. If the book had ended one paragraph sooner ("And one fine morning..."), I argued, it would have been perfect.

T. disagreed with me on just about everything with "Gatsby."

While I loved the metaphor of the eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg, T. found the imagery tiresome.

I hated Daisy with a purple passion. I thought she was a conniving, simple-minded bitch. T. took into consideration where Daisy came from and sympathized with the choices she made.

I thought Gatsby's "you loved me too?" is one of the saddest lines of dialogue I've ever read. I still do. I don't remember whether T. agreed with me or not on that. What she thought didn't affect my supreme enjoyment of that line in the slightest.

In fact, one of the few things T. & I agreed upon with regards to Gatsby was that we both loved the book and hated the Robert Redford / Mia Farrow-ization of the movie.

Today, years later, "Gatsby" remains one of my all-time favorite books. And here's the thing: I no longer hate the ending. With age comes wisdom, perhaps. Maybe there's just something to be said for accepting another's creative vision, even when it differs from your own.

For the sake of argument, imagine if Fitzgerald was an unpublished writer tackling today's publishing system with his manuscript for "The Great Gatsby." (Yes, yes, I know Gatsby was his 3rd published book. But honestly, do you think "This Side of Paradise" would ever make it past the intern in charge of the slush pile?)

Gatsby falls just shy of 50,000 words: too short for a novel / too long for a novella. It includes flashbacks, inventive punctuation, and has no clear antagonist. We don't even get to meet the book's protagonist, its namesake, until Chapter 3.

For the sake of argument, imagine if Scott, fresh from finishing his manuscript with a metaphor that (ahem) some 19-year olds might hate, attended a writer's conference where he got to spend a glorious, hope-infused 3 WHOLE MINUTES with a harried editor or agent, pitching his story about the doomed relationship between a poor little rich girl and a hopeless romantic. Show of hands: how many times would he hear "I just don't love it" before he got a green light to submit a synopsis and a partial?

Do we live in a world where agency interns would recognize Scott's brilliance if it shone at them from their email inbox? Would Scott himself have been able to craft a query letter that would "hook" the reader into requesting a partial -- or would his query render him Query Shark bait?

If he did get a partial, either from a conference connection or from shining through slush, would the fact that his protagonist doesn't appear in the first 50 pages of the manuscript nix a request for a full?

In order to get Gatsby published, he would have to find an agent who wasn't trolling for Amish romances, paranormal, YA, steampunk, urban fantasy, horror, mystery, or freaky zombie / vampire / werewolf mashups involving literary or historical characters.

Once such an agent was found, Scott would have to write a hell of a query letter that piqued the interest of the agent's unpaid intern enough to get the intern to request a partial. Then he'd have to rely on the intern liking the story enough to request a full, read the whole thing, recognize its merit, and pass it to the agent with a recommendation. The agent would then have to sell a publisher on the project -- a process as fraught with potential pitfalls as finding an agent.

Could such a thing really happen without Scott receiving notes like:

• Need at least another 20,000 words. Perhaps add a paranormal element? Better market share.
• Consider bumping up erotic tension between Nick and Daisy.
• Does Myrtle have to die? If so, show in more detail. Make me feel her evisceration.
• We need to see at least one sex scene between Daisy & Gatsby. Ramp up the heat.
• The final paragraph doesn't work. Suggest rewriting and / or eliminating completely.

For the sake of argument, I sincerely hope so, though privately, I wonder. Because if F. Scott couldn't get Gatsby published in today's world, then what hope do I have of succeeding where he would fail?

Mystery Guest Blogger: Q & A with An Agent's Slush-Pile Reader

Regular readers know that I facilitate a weekly Writing Practicum whose members are working toward publication. Most have no real publishing credits yet. Quite a few are great at doing their homework, reading online, studying up on the industry & honing their craft, but the aspect of querying (and the dismal acceptance rates from slush pile submissions) stymies them.

I have a friend who worked as an agent's slush reader. She was gracious enough to answer my Writing Practicum members' questions.

I thought her responses were great and asked her permission to share them with my blog readers. She agreed, as long as she retained her anonymity. (She's female. That narrows it down from 8 billion possibilities to just over 4 billion. Anonymous enough...) "I was waxing snarky and I shouldn't," she explained. I honestly thought she was quite kind, but will honor her request and keep her identity a secret.

And now, without further ado... A straight-shooting Q & A with an agent's slush-pile reader!

~Cue theme song & dancing girls~

The questions, in no particular order, follow:

Q:  I've studied websites like Query Shark & AgentQuery. I think I understand how to avoid making the major "newbie" mistakes, but what are some "red flags" that turn you off from an otherwise well-written query letter?

A:

• Starting out with high word count or very low word count as well and slamming me with adverbs and adjectives.  
• If you don't do your homework and begin the letter with "Dear Sir/Madam." 
• Spelling the agent's name wrong is a big no-no as well as mentioning books/authors that have unrelated genres or having nothing to do with your genre.  
• I try not to be skeptical when the bio reads "first time author" but I've read enough really bad stuff from first timers that turn me off.  
• Also, be nice.  We are people too.  If you come off as needy or a jerk we will probably be turned off to working with you.  

Honestly, I let a lot of things slide in queries because nobody is perfect.  BUT, if I am in the middle of a query reading day and the query starts out with "XXXX novel is a heart rending tale of redemption...(insert ANY descriptive word of what you think your novel is)" you just awarded yourself a rejection.  Those kinds of queries are a dime a dozen and are usually not written well at all.


Q:  When you've read through a pile of queries at a sitting, what specific aspects pique your interest and make one particular query stand out from the crowd?

A:  Oh geez, this is a toughy.  It's hard to tell.  Sometimes it is the writer's credentials, or if a writer can say they met me someplace, or tweeted me on Twitter (or are a fan of my blog is always nice).  The queries that wake me up out of a glassy-eyed stupor are the unusually creative novels that have amazing main character names, to die for plots, and a great voice.

The camel whispers in my ear what I must write.
Betcha never heard a camel's voice before!

Q: I keep hearing that agents and publishers want to find a writer with "a great voice." What constitutes a great voice? What qualities does a great voice have that makes that writing "work?"

A:  Ah, the elusive voice!  Anyone who knows me, or listens to me talk for that matter, knows that I am a speed chatter with loads of snark and humor.  When I write, my brain goes into hyperdrive and all my inner thoughts spill out on the page.  Some things are better left in my brain. However, THAT is the voice we agents / interns are looking for.  The voice can be sweet, unassuming, bold, masculine, crass, sarcastic, abrasive, brutal -- you name it, it's been written.  Mainly, we want to read a character whose voice matches the writing.  It is a difficult thing to pull off, but not impossible.  It just takes practice.


Q:  I want my query to be memorable, but I'm terrified of inadvertently doing something stupid in my letter that turns an agent off. Any advice?

A:  Short really is sweeter.  If you can't hook me onto your plot in the first paragraph, my eyes glass over.  It is my MAJOR pet peeve to read three paragraphs of why the author chose to write and why their book is going to blow my socks off.  Just tell me the damn plot already!  Get down to business, make it snappy, make me drool and then end it.


Q:  On average, how many manuscripts (or partials) do you request for every 100 query letters you read?

A:  Depends.  When I first started I requested about 6 partials and one full.  I do a little more now mainly because the quality of queries have increased and we are caught up in reading submissions.  My last batch of queries was 78 queries, 5 fulls, 2 partials and that didn't include what my boss requested.


Q: Are you ever "on the fence" about a project pitched in a query letter, or are queries generally easily separated into Requests and Rejections? If you are on the fence, what aspects can affect your decision?

A:  I sit on the fence all the time.  It is easy to dole out rejections when the writing is clearly awful and the query is a muddy mess.

However, there is an increase of decent queries that I am not sure if I love or not.  Usually, I star it and let it sit in my inbox for a few days.  If the plot sticks with me, I request it.  If I forget all about it and I reread it without interest, it gets a rejection.  A lot of the time coming back to it with a clear head on a different day makes me realize that I had been silly for not rejecting it, or glad that it is still around to request.


Q:  When you've requested a manuscript, how do you decide whether it's worth bringing to the agent's attention?

A:  This is going to be a novel length answer.  Many factors go into me pitching a book to the agent.  Just so you know, I pitch everything I've requested to my boss even if I am firm on rejecting it.  I am not an agent, so I am not allowed to reject a book without gaining her approval first.  As the intern I act like a gate keeper who gives the gate owner (agent) a whittled down version of the submission process.

Here are some tips that get you read:

• Your first five pages need to be awesome.  They need to hook me and keep me reading.  
• After I have requested a 50 page partial, I want to see a story that moves quickly with all the elements aligned.  The dialogue needs to be engaging, the characters need to be developed and the plot needs to be steadily increasing to a climax. If, after fifty pages, I am drooling for more I'll ask for a full (or keep reading as I give all manuscripts up to 50 pages to impress me). 
• The full needs to deliver the goods.  There needs to be tension, deep character development, a story arc that has me glued to it, and a chain of events I can follow.  
• I am not a fan of books that skips around a lot between the past and the present.  
• When you get to a climax, I want to be plastered to the story and gasping (whether that means happy or sad is up to you) and the ending is crucial.  There is nothing more heartbreaking than an ending that drops me off a cliff abruptly. Very unfair.  
• In a nutshell, 99% of writers query me with novels that are not ready to be queried.  Either the writing is not polished or the story is flawed, or any number of things can go wrong, like me not connecting with a main character to hating where you took the story (or taking your character through improbable scenarios).  

Not to break your hearts, but I have read three submissions I thought were wonderful.  One, my boss agreed was good, but with the other two she was not nearly as impressed as I was.  It is a matter of subjectivity, especially since a novel I hated and highly recommended she pass on, she loved!  Is it frustrating?  Yes it is, but to ease the irritation, it is just as insanely frustrating for us to root out a story we love as much as it is frustrating for you to get rejected.

Finally: Good luck to all of you!

******

I want to publicly thank my friend for agreeing to share her insider's wisdom with my readers. I hope you found her insights into the querying process useful.

Keep on keeping on!

Lessons Learned While Walking in an Agent's Shoes

Don’t judge a person, the old adage advises, until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes. Or her heels.

I recently experienced, on a small scale, what was very close to a mile in an agent’s life. I confess my eyes were opened to nuances in the submission process that escaped me while walking in my regular Writer’s Shoes. It’s amazing how quickly one learns what makes a submission stand out, what rubs one the wrong way, and what is clearly a waste of everyone’s time when the shoe is on the other foot.

Walk with me, if you will, and I’ll share the lessons I recently learned.

Lesson 1: My Loyalties Lie With Those I Know

Before beginning the jaunt, a bit of backstory is warranted.

For the past two years I have been involved in creating a Major Project for a Major Client. This is the client who has kept food on my table and gas in my car. The client who kept me from wearing a “Will Write For Food” sign while lurking around Wal-Mart. The client is classy, solvent, and at the top of its field.

Because of my work on this project, I have been fortunate to work with absolute legends in my client’s industry. My client has been very happy with the work I’ve done thus far on the project. I will do everything in my power to keep the joy alive.

The completed project is a 200K word document chock-full of educational material for several stages of an industry-wide certification process. The client wants it indexed. Since this is patently NOT my specialty, I began the Great Indexer Search. I mentioned on Twitter that I was looking for experienced indexers. A freelance writer friend posted a short ad for me on a professional writer’s site. I asked the managing editor of a publisher I’ve worked with for recommendations.

Throughout the entire process, though I was looking for a great indexer – one who could do the job and do it well – my loyalties were firmly in the client’s camp. My client pays the bills. My client has the need. My client is my priority.

If I happen to find a brilliant indexer and we hit it off; great. But my first concern is not in building a long-term relationship with an indexer or in furthering an indexer’s career. It’s keeping my client happy.

This is akin to the agent who has spent years forging strong working relationships with editors and publishers. The first priority is in sending the publishing professionals material they can use: salable, marketable projects. Finding new authors is part of the job. But the loyalties must lie with those who pay the bills. New people will only enter the mix if they can contribute in a significant way to the success of those with whom the agent already has a history or an obligation.

Lesson 2: Square Pegs Don’t Fill Round Holes

The submissions came rolling in.

Most were professional and, to some degree, addressed my indexing need. A few of those bidding mentioned that they also offered other services: editing, proofreading & the like. This was fine, but it didn’t elevate them above those who only indexed. I didn’t need other services. I wasn’t looking for other services. I didn’t ask for other services. So I didn’t care about other services. I only cared about providing the service my client needed.

One submission, however, was clearly inappropriate. And the job-hunter knew it. “I know you said you needed an indexer,” the query letter began, ”but if you need (insert completely different and unrelated service here), please consider me.”

It took time to write that e-mail. It took time for me to read it. It took time for me to write back (nicely, of course), “Thanks, but no thanks.” Wasted time.

This person could have been the best (insert unrelated service provider) in the world. But that doesn’t help me or my client. So it does none of us any good.

The analogy is obvious. If an agent says he wants YA or MG books, don’t fill up his in-box with adult sci-fi. You can be the next Isaac Asimov. If he only has working relationships with YA & kidlit publishers, he won’t be able to sell your stuff. Brilliant writing will get you nowhere if the agent doesn’t rep that genre.

Lesson 3: Make It Easy For Me To Do My Job

Within an hour of posting the opening, I had over 15 submissions.

• Some were so generic that they quickly got lumped in the “adequate” pile.

• A few included links to websites or work samples. This worked in people’s favor IF the links were to relevant materials. It worked against them, however, if the links took me to sites that were clunky, cluttered, vague, unprofessional, or (there’s that word again) generic.

• One attached a 3 page “information sheet” that was intended, I assume, to help bid out the project more accurately. However, no one else included such a thing. Filling out the sheet would take a good ½ hour – and I’m not convinced that would be a great use of my time. Especially since other indexers were able to estimate both time and $$ bids based on the information I provided to all.

• A few asked for specific additional information in order to give a more accurate estimate. In each case, I was able to comply. In no case did the request for more specifics or for clarification negatively influence my opinion of the job seeker.

I want to find a great fit for my client’s needs, but I don’t have hours and days to do it. The submissions who stand out are the ones who clearly show that they know what I need and are capable of filling it. Those who apologize for their inexperience, point me to irrelevant work samples, or ask me to invest significant amounts of my time up front to determine whether or not we’re a good match don’t leave me with a Happy Tingles of Joy. It’s more like Irksome Grumps of Annoyance.

Lesson 4: Brevity Trumps All

Most of the people responding to my job post had no experience whatsoever in the rather rarified industry that my client rules. That’s fine. Expertise within the field was not a pre-requisite.

One person, however, had some personal experience in the area. She mentioned it in passing – 5 words politely embedded at the end of her submission. Had she included several paragraphs of her background, it would have worked against her. However, the few words that let me know “Hey, I know a bit about this!” made her stand out among the others and moved her near the top of the Strongly Consider list.

Keep submission letters short. Sweet. And relevant. That is all.

It took me quite some time to read (and weed) through the submissions. The ones that caught and kept my attention, that made me want to take a chance on recommending them for consideration, were professional, succinct, and on target. They made it EASY for me to recommend them.

As I put my own writer’s shoes back on and tie the laces tight, I’m seeing my own submissions to agents in a whole new light.

Picture Books: Publishing's Problem or Promise?

Earlier today, Elana Roth, a respected agent at Caren Johnson Literary Agency posted an agent's take on "The Picture Book Problem." In it, she says some hard things about unagented authors (whose ranks include the talented Judy Schachner, of Skippyjon Jones fame) and questions why such people write picture books.

Every observation she makes about where picture books and their authors stand in the industry is correct. Disheartening, perhaps, but correct.

You see, the sad truth is that picture books don't make money. They don't make money for the publishers. They don't make money for the authors. And rest assured -- if the authors aren't making any money, then their agents (should they have representation) are suffering as well. This is why relatively few agents will accept picture books for representation.

In addition, most picture books are... well... really REALLY bad.

Many people think that a picture book should tell a cute little story involving talking animals that illustrates some didactic moral for the reading rugrat to meditate upon.

As if.

As a result, most spec picture books suck.

I say this in the kindest possible way, you realize.

However, there is another side to the story. After reading Ms. Roth's post, I felt compelled to add my two cents' to the discussion. Here's my take:



The Skippyjon Jones books are big hits with my bookworm daughter. We quote extensive passages – often around mealtime, or bedtime – and always accompanied by peals of laughter. When she grows up, I am sure that she will remember Skippyjon as one of her favorite early reads.

The books I have in print are co-authored or ghosted non-fiction. They were unagented because the best advances the publisher could afford were so low it wouldn’t have been worth an agent’s time to get involved. However, I loved writing them. I got to work with some great people at a very respected niche publisher. I learned invaluable lessons about editing, distribution, and promotion. Furthermore, writing the books allowed me to work with icons in the horse industry. I felt that I have helped to preserve their knowledge and make it readily available to others who need it. In their own way, the books I have in print have been very rewarding

I write adult, YA, and MG fiction in a variety of genres. Selling them to any publisher of note will require an agent to get involved and love them as much as I do. The books I’ve done have little to no bearing on my current projects. They will do little to attract an agent’s interest and they did not put much in my bank account. I do not, however, regret writing them.

In the same vein, perhaps picture book writers fondly remember how a particular book in their childhood sparked a life-long fascination with words. Perhaps they wish to do the same to a new generation.

One picture book is in my list of Things I Hope to See in Print. It’s not because I hope to make a ton of money with it (though that, of course, would be lovely). It’s because I love it. It moves me. It moves my child. I believe that it could move others as well.

I understand that many picture books by hopeful authors may be sub-par. I also understand there is little money in writing them. Agents and big publishers may pass them by because they do not make good business sense. But picture books provide a child’s earliest experience at realizing words can unlock exciting new worlds. They prime the pump of reading. For some writers, the chance to contribute to a child’s love of reading may be reward enough.

What are your thoughts on picture books? Are they a problem to aspiring authors, agents, and publishers? Or do they hold the promise that our children will enjoy a long love affair with literature?

(True confession: I like Ms. Roth very much. I have followed the work she's done for some of her clients and would be honored if she would agree to represent me. Whether she does or not, I will continue to search for The Right One.

The truth of the matter is that authors need agents because we tend to do a lousy job of selling our stuff. Generally speaking, we don't have the objectivity or experience required to analyze contracts, market new projects, and stay on top of the publishing industry. This is not because we are stupid. We're not. We're the Creatives. Which, by definition, means that we have a tendency to remain too close to our creation. What we write requires an agent's objectivity in order to compete in the publishing marketplace.

So: please feel free to leave your comments on picture book writers or on working as an repped or unrepped author. Feel free to take issue with my opinions. Do not, however, use this as a forum to attack literary agents. Such comments will be "lost" during moderation.)