An Editor's Perspective: Q & A w/ Entangled Publishing's Adrien-Luc Sanders, Part II

MuseInks is honored to again feature Adrien-Luc Sanders (@smoulderingsea), Entangled Publishing's Managing Senior Editor of the Flirt and Ever After lines. Adrien-Luc dispenses priceless #editortips on Twitter where he somehow manages to highlight the problems that plague many writers' submissions without degenerating into cutting snark. He blogs at Kowloon by Night.

He was so generous with his answers to my questions, that I broke his interview into two parts. Read Part I here. Today features his responses to five more questions about how editors and authors can make each other's lives easier and suggestions for how writers can improve their chances for success in submissions.

Q:  In general, how far do you have to read in a submission before you realize you love it and want to acquire it?

A:  It varies too much to really have a "general" answer. With some books I know within one page, and I'm praying throughout the rest of the manuscript that it won't jump the shark and will gratify all my boyish hopes and dreams, etc.

Others have had a slow start, but there was a spark that prompted me to keep reading for a chapter, two chapters, five, until that little hint flourished into a great story.

There have been others where even on the last page, I wasn't sure. Those are the ones I have to walk away from for a little while. If I find I can't stop thinking about them, and realize I really made an emotional connection with the characters and they're sticking with me, then I know.

Q:  What are the qualities of your dream author? Which quality is *most* important? Why? 

A:  It's kind of hard to answer this without saying "all my authors are my dream authors." Seriously, they're all different, but I love them all and they're amazing to work with.

If I was going to build an Authortron 2000, though, I'd say they would be a consistent producer of quality stories with a great voice. I don't mean they need to churn out a story a month, but one to two really good stories a year--stories that show attention to their craft and a dedication to good storytelling, while still producing steadily enough to build and keep a loyal fanbase.

They'd need to be patient and have one hell of a sense of humor, both to deal with me and to handle the stress that chopping apart their manuscripts can cause. They'd need to be dedicated. They'd need to be open to the editing process, flexible, and willing to learn.

They'd need a solid understanding of how the industry works.

They'd need to have a great author presence when interacting with readers, and be accessible on social media as a real person readers feel like they can connect with. They shouldn't think of themselves as le artiste. They shouldn't need hand-holding, though I don't mind coaching, especially for new authors on their first book. What matters is that they learn from that coaching and grow through each successive edit.

The most important out of all that? I'm going to cheat and list two: flexibility and dedication. The editing and publishing cycle is one of constant change.

It's rare that the story you submit will be the story that gets published, though the core of it will still be there. Same house, new furniture. (Sometimes same house, same furniture, furniture drastically rearranged. There's a bidet in the kitchen.) Release dates will change. Cover art will change. Jacket copy will change. You have to be flexible to be able to adapt to that and just roll with the punches without having a meltdown.

And you need the dedication to commit to all the hard work involved. Someone once told me that my job as an editor isn't nearly as hard as her job as the writer actually producing the story, and I just didn't understand. I do. I've done both, and I can tell you actually writing the book is just the first small step. That's the easy part. Even selling the book is easy compared to the amount of work both the editor and author must do to get a book ready for publication. There are generally dozens of people involved and it's a whirlwind of activity, change, and sometimes disappointment--and I know how it feels both as an editor and as a writer implementing his editor's corrections. You need dedication to survive that, then dive back in for another round fully knowing what you're getting into.

Q:  You write as well as edit. What has being an editor taught you about your writing?

A:  That I need to listen to my own damned advice. ~laughs~ No, seriously. I kind of had this epiphany when I was working on an author's manuscript, that all these mistakes I keep highlighting? I do this. I do this, but I act like it's okay because it's me, when it's not okay at all. That was years ago, but I basically felt like I slapped myself in the face, and I needed it.

Personal demons lurk on every writer's path...

Every writer's been through this stage, I think. Where they think their mistakes are forgivable because it's artistic license.

No matter how professional you are as a writer, you'll have some demons to work through as you sort yourself out and figure out your path. That was mine: getting over this love affair with my own overdone prose and learning to write as cleanly and sharply as I expect of my authors.

I'm still not sure I've succeeded, but I am more self-aware--and when I edit my own work, I'm probably even harder on myself than I am on them. I'll go through an entire edit pass where I deliberately make myself hate my manuscript, so I can identify what's really good and what really sucks. Before that self-administered slap in the face, I'd have thought it was all good.

In fact, some of the #editortips I tweet? Are actually mistakes I've caught myself making. I'm not saying "Look, this author screwed up with me by doing this; don't do this." I'm saying "Look, I screwed up. Don't make my mistakes."

Q:  What are some things you would like to see more of in your submissions inbox?

A:  Post-apocalyptic. Zombies. Horror. SciFi. Steampunk. PoC. LGBT. Dark stories with the villain as the hero. Anything that breaks the category mold.

I'm a little glutted on contemporary right now, and have a roster of talented authors constantly producing more great stories, so contemporary's a bit of a hard sell for me right now--but I'd love a good romantic comedy.

I have some weirdly specific things I'm looking for, too, like a YA about space gypsies. Or a story that tackles alchemical magic in a way that believably integrates real physics and chemistry. Or a story that combines magic and technology with a good logical foundation. Or, if you really want to sell me a contemporary, something Dexter-ish with highly dysfunctional people who still manage to find romance. If that can even count as a contemporary.

Q:  If people wish to submit fiction to the imprints of Entangled Publishing for which you are an editor, what is the best way to go about it?

A:  For the Flirt and Ever After lines in general, you can submit to:
flirt-submissions(at)entangledpublishing(dot).com or
everafter-submissions(at)entangledpublishing(dot)com.

I do acquire for the Entangled/Entangled Select, Entangled Teen, and various category lines, though, so if you have something for one of those lines that you think is right up my alley, you can send it directly to me at adrien-luc(at)entangledpublishing(dot)com.

The submission information page at http://www.entangledpublishing.com/submission-information/ has links to the submission guidelines for all of the lines, as well as to the Entangled blog, where we post special thematic calls for submissions. We have several open on the F&EA lines right now; I have a sub call roundup linking them all from my blog here: http://kowloonbynight.com/2012/05/23/sub-call-roundup/ .

How to Get a Book Deal When You Suck at Pitching

I am good at many things. Pitching a project, however, is not one of them.

I have a friend who is an amazing pitcher. She is ready, at any time, to say a few sentences that rivet your attention and leave you craving more.

Me? Before I go to a pitch fest or writing conference where I'm a participant instead of faculty, I practice my pitches for a month. I practice everything, from "Hi, I'm Ami Hendrickson" onward, saying the words out loud and timing myself. It's true. If I don't, I know from heinous experience that I blather. I skip over important bits or go haring off on interesting rabbit trails instead of presenting the inciting incident in a way that makes an iota of sense. In fact, practicing out loud is one of my go-to Tips for Surviving the Pitch Session.

If I don't practice to within an inch of my life,
my pitches become Giant Sucking Vortexes of Awful. 

Not everyone has to practice like I do. Some people are pitching rock stars. Sadly, I must have been in the cosmic little girls' room when God was doling out pitching talent.

Fortunately, though pitching is an important skill in a writer's career -- one that every writer, no matter how pitch-challenged she may be, should strive to master -- it is possible to get a book deal signed even if you can't pitch your way out of a paper bag.

Everyone's road to publication is different. I can only tell you what worked for me.

1. Put yourself out there. Get out of the studio. Get away from your computer. When you are at a conference or networking event, for the love of God, get off of your freaking phone! Go where you know people who work in publishing will be. Attend their classes. Shake their hands. Ask knowledgeable questions. Meet. Greet. Repeat.


2. Be yourself. Do not posture. Don't compare yourself to a famous author, living, dead, or fictitious. Don't talk all about yourself. Just be yourself. Be the person your best friends love to hang with. At no time should you remind the people you're talking to of a strutting rooster or a hot air balloon. If you already know you suck at pitching your book, then don't pitch your book. Not at first. Pitch yourself instead. Best way to do that? --


3. Pay Attention. See, once you stop talking, then others can start. And since they're in the industry you want to break into, they probably have a ton of information that you need. So listen. Show genuine interest in what the publishing pros have to say. Engage. Pay attention. You'll discover who is looking for what and where different agents' and editors' tastes run. That knowledge, plus the personal connection, can be invaluable.


4. Know what you can do. You may not be a pitch-meister, but you sure 'nough better be able to write. Don't say you can write a book if you have never finished a book. Don't claim to be able to write a screenplay if your hard drive is full of half-finished scripts, but you've never typed "FADE OUT." Knowing what you can do, and saying what you can deliver isn't bragging; it's networking.



A writer who doesn't network is as fulfilled as a cat in an aquarium.

These are the tenets that worked for me. I got my first book deal -- and nearly every writing gig since -- by following them. I was participating in a horse training clinic and shooting the breeze with the trainer (whom my horse nearly killed, but that's another story) when he asked me what I did. I told him I was a writer. This was true: at the time, I wrote for several local newspapers and magazines and had worked in an advertising agency. But my passion was for my novel and my recently finished screenplay.

That encounter led the trainer to call me some time later when a publisher approached him about writing a book and he knew he needed help doing it. I was 9 months' pregnant at the time, but when he asked if I wanted to write his book with him, I said "yes." You can't always choose the circumstances of your break.

The publisher was initially reluctant to take a chance on me, an "unproven" writer, but the trainer insisted I was who he wanted to work with. Though he had never seen a word I had written, he knew me. He'd seen my work ethic at his clinic. He knew we could work together.

The resulting book is a perennial bestseller for the publisher. That project led to others... which led to others... I have been blessed to write books and other materials for world-class experts in their field -- and I still suck at pitching.

In my last post, "The Problem With Pitching," I lamented the fact that some writers pitch better than they can deliver. I'm working right now on a project that sold on the basis of a pitch, but which is currently languishing in Development Hell because the writer didn't deliver anything usable. So the director called me. I may not be able to pitch. But I sure can produce.

I'm not for a moment suggesting that you give up on learning to pitch well. I believe that pitching is like any skill: no one is born knowing how to do it. It can be learned like anything else.

However, some people just "get" how to pitch better than others. If you're like me, and are still struggling with perfecting your query letters, elevator speeches, and pitches, take heart! Even if you don't pitch a perfect game, you can still play!

Get yourself out there, play nice with others, pay attention to what the pros say, and be confident in your abilities. In my experience, those four things can build a solid writing career while you continue to perfect your pitch.

Query Quest IV: Ready to Send

The past few posts have featured the evolution of Writing Practicum member Bob Ghent's query letter from First Attempt to Gawky Adolescent Query to Yes! It's Ready / OOops! It's Not Query.

Regular readers know that just as Bob was planning on sending out the query featured in yesterday's blog, he DISCOVERED A MAJOR FLAW RUNNING THROUGH IT AND ALL PREVIOUS VERSIONS!

The horror!

Upon noticing the flaw, Bob did what any well-intentioned query newbie should do. He synthesized what he had learned thus far, incorporated his new knowledge, and wrote a kick-butt query letter that easily tops all earlier versions.

What was the problem? you ask? If you haven't spotted it yet, I'll give Bob the honor of the Big Reveal. Take it away, Bob...

~Drum Roll~

***

P.O.V. Point Of View! The most recent version of the query featured at least five shifts in POV! First Tonk, then Cira, Strager, Jace, and back to Cira. I didn’t stick to the POV of the protagonist(s). The query is only 244 words. How hard could it be to keep a single POV? No wonder it felt choppy when I read it.

Here's the final version -- the one I'm sending out:

Version 6 - 226 words

Cira and Jace discover dragons are real when a young Tonk falls from the sky. They learn his wings are too small to fly back to the portal and when it closes in twenty-four hours, it will seal his death. Cira’s heart goes out to Tonk and determines that she and her thirteen-year old twin must save him.

They learn of a mysterious handwritten book about magic and dragons. Their search for it involves them with Kade, a seven-foot felon willing to kill to get a dragon. They cannot turn to the sheriff for help. He wants Tonk for revenge against a rogue dragon that murdered his wife.

Cira and an unlikely ally hide Tonk while Jace continues searching. He finds the book, learns its secrets and when kidnapped by Kade is forced to reveal Tonk’s location. He attempts to escape but it leaves him near death and allows Kade to capture Tonk.

The rogue dragon returns with a dangerous agenda. Magic sword in hand and astride a dragon whose heart is larger than its wings, Cira battles the rogue. However, it is brutally strong. She fails and has only seconds to discover the secret of her one resource or die.

The twins are polar opposites and must learn that working together is the only way to defeat Kade, stalemate the sheriff and return Tonk home.

(NOTE: Of course, salutation, title, genre, word count, & author contact information are all included.)

******

And with that, Bob hit:

Hoping this was helpful to those on their own Query Quest. What process did you go through as your own query letter(s) evolved? Care to share?

["Send button" featured on Examiner.com.]

Query Quest III: The Fatally Flawed Query

On Friday, Bob Ghent, a member of my Writing Practicum, shared his edited query letter with another self-made markup that showed he still had work to do. (See Query Quest I for the original query letter before the edits began.)

Today's query version is the one he thought he was going to send -- until a last minute review of the Query Shark's do's and don't's illuminated a heretofore unseen fatal flaw... Which he'll discuss and fix in tomorrow's post.

First, however, the one he was GOING to send:

****

Version 4 - 244 words

Tonk is a young dragon that accidently falls from a magical world into the modern lives of teenagers Cira and Jace. His portal is one hundred miles above their home and will close in twenty four hours. Too small to fly home, Tonk will soon die on Earth. Cira’s heart is touched and she demands that Jace help her find a way to return him.

• “Accidently” – not needed. Plus, it's spelled wrong.

• “His portal is one hundred” – Exposition that doesn’t really move the story line along.

• “On Earth” – Obviously he is on Earth if he can’t get home. Not needed. The sentence is not that good. It can be better.

They learn of a mysterious handwritten book about magic and dragons. The search for it involves Strager, a vengeful sheriff who lost his wife to a rogue dragon four months earlier. He is desperate to capture Tonk but must also deal with Kade, a seven foot felon willing to kill to get a dragon.

• “Must also deal with Kade” – So what? Not my problem if the sheriff has to deal with Kade . . . Or my readers! AND it’s really not the sheriff that has to deal with Kade, IT’S THE TWINS!

• “A seven foot felon willing to kill” – Too vague. Does this threaten someone?

Jace continues searching while Cira and an unlikely ally hide Tonk. Jace finds the book and learns its secrets but when kidnapped by Kade, he must reveal Tonk’s location. His attempt to escape leaves him near death and allows Kade to capture Tonk.

• “Jace finds the book” – This is a complex sentence that stumbles along with the words “and, but and he must”. Cumbersome to read.

The rogue dragon returns with a dangerous agenda.  Magic sword in hand and astride a dragon whose heart is larger than its wings, Cira battles the rogue.  However, it is brutally strong.  Her efforts fail and while falling toward earth with only seconds to live, she refuses to give up.

• “Her efforts fail” – This sentence is too wordy.

• “She refuses to give up” – Another, SO WHAT. This does not show her struggling with options or any decision she might have to make to save her life.

The twins are polar opposites but their strengths are complimentary. Cira, her dragon and Jace become an unstoppable team that wins over the sheriff, defeats Kade and reunites Tonk with his family.

• “Strengths are complimentary” – Sounds nice but it’s not needed.

• “Cira, her dragon and” – Long sentence that wraps up the story with a neat little bow. Never tell the ending! I think it’s better to wrap up the end with a challenge for our protagonist(s) to solve.

*****

Bob notes:
Aside from the above ten points, THERE IS A MAJOR FLAW RUNNING THROUGH THIS VERSION AND VERSIONS TWO AND THREE!

Tomorrow, the major flaw exposed & the resulting (final) query...

Query Quest II: The Juvenile Query

Yesterday's post was the first installment of Query Quest. In it, Bob Ghent, a member of my weekly Writing Practicum, graciously agreed to transparently share the process he used to craft his first query letter.

His query went through several revisions before he deemed it fit for being sent out into the world.  Today, the first major re-write -- which resulted in a letter that still lacked focus and frame. I present: the Juvenile Query Letter...


Version 3 -- 244 Words

A dragon named Tonk falls from a magical world into the modern lives of thirteen year old twins, Cira and Jace.  The portal he fell through is one hundred miles straight up and will close in 24 hours.  He is too young to reach it and will die if he stays.  Jace knows it is impossible to return Tonk but Cira’s heart is touched and she demands he help her find a way.

• “He is too young to reach it” – Poor sentence.  Reword for fewer words and better structure.
• “Impossible to return Tonk” – Not needed and does not show the consequences of staying.

They learn of a mysterious handwritten book about dragons.  Their search leads to Strager, a vengeful sheriff who lost his wife to a rogue dragon just four months earlier.  Strager plans to capture Tonk but he must also deal with Kade, a seven foot felon who will kill to get a dragon.

• “Strager plans” – Planning does not show Strager in action.

Jace continues searching for the book while Cira and an unlikely ally hide Tonk.  Jace learns the book’s secrets but Kade kidnaps him and he must reveal Tonk’s hiding place.  Jace attempts an escape but it leaves him drowning in Henderson Lake and lets Kade capture Tonk.

• “Drowning in Henderson Lake” – Too specific.  Telling the story is a no, no.

With magic sword in hand and astride a dragon whose heart is larger than its wings, Cira battles the rogue dragon.  However, he is brutally strong and she must chance a desperate move.  She fails, her dragon is in grave danger and she searches for options while falling to earth.

• “Cira battles the rogue dragon” – Time line problem. It sounds like it should go with the murder of Strager’s wife but it doesn’t.

• “She fails” – Long complex sentence.

The twins are polar opposites but their strengths bind them together for one purpose – to return a youngling dragon to his home.

• “Return a youngling dragon” – There’s more to the story than this. Weak ending.

****

After this edit, Bob went back to the proverbial drawing board, ready to make the adolescent grow up & get a job! Tomorrow, we'll see what he thought was his ready-to-send Edited Version... And discover a Fatal Flaw that he identified only at the eleventh hour.

How's your own Query Quest faring? Do you have any experience with "Juvenile Queries?" If so, please share. I'd love to hear how you worked things out.

Query Quest I: A Query Letter for the Trashcan

Bob Ghent is a member of the weekly Writing Practicum that I facilitate.  He's an engineer at heart, so he's our go-to guy for spotting things in our writing that don't add up or that don't make sequential sense.

He has recently finished "DRAGOOLEND," a fantasy for middle grade readers.  Now he is heavily involved in the umpteenth edit.  He is also researching how to write a query letter -- a daunting task for nearly all writers, but especially so for first-timers.

Bob has done his research.  He's been studying the Query Shark website and applying the advice he found there.  For three weeks, he brought only his query letter to our Tuesday night Writer's Practicum so we could critique it and help him polish it. But all the work he did was his own.

I asked Bob if he would share his query writing process here.  He has graciously agreed to.  In today's installment, Query Quest begins:

****

My first query letter turned out to be more of a synopsis and way too long so I didn’t include it in this blog post. This starts with version 2.

I read several Query Shark critiques to help me get some ideas. Anyone writing fiction should visit that site and carefully read the good, the bad and the ugly query letters.I made a list of a little over 30 tips from the critiques.

After I completed each version, I used the tips to critique my work. It was an eye opener!

I sent version number 5 to Query Shark and only five minutes after I hit the send button, I found more changes I wish I had made.

My final, number six, is the one I wish I had sent. Well, it’s spilled milk and all of that. It’s a waiting game now.

The query letter versions are below. Needed changes are underlined, w/ comments I expect The Shark might make in blue.

Version 2 – 258 words

A youngling dragon named Tonk falls from a magical world into the modern lives of thirteen year old twins, Cira and Jace. Tonk’s wings are too small to return him home and he will die if he stays. Cira is quick to help but Jace sees the impossible side. The portal to return Tonk is at the top of the sky.It will close in twenty four hours.

• “Youngling” takes up space and it seems more specific than a query letter needs.  It is also redundant for “wings are too small” in line two. 

• “Is at the top of the sky” is vague.

• “Close in twenty-four hours” Conveys little more than a mild problem and does not show any consequence.

As often happens, Jace yields to his sister and their quest reveals the existence of a mysterious handwritten book about dragons and magic. Their search for it uncovers others who know about dragons; a vengeful sheriff and Kade, a seven-foot felon.

• “Others who know” – So what?  Where’s the danger?  Why should we care?

The sheriff closes in and Cira must leave to hide Tonk. Jace continues the search and discovers how to return Tonk but Kade kidnaps him before he delivers the answer. A daring last minute escape leads Jace to certain death and Kade to Tonk.

•  The sheriff closes in – Specific detail not necessary in a query letter.

•  “Certain death” implies Jace dies and I did not want that.

The wild card is a lone dragon that arrives with a dangerous agenda. It murders the sheriff’s wife and a mile above Cira’s hometown it springs a surprise attack against her. Astride her dragon and with magical sword in hand, she battles the powerful dragon but the battle proves unwinnable. Gathering courage for her last seconds of life, she encounters a magical being that knows how to defeat the dragon. However, he is upset with her and is willing to let her die.

• “The wild card” – Not needed.

•  “Gathering courage” – This involves two lines that lengthen the query letter and seems to have specific detail not needed in a query letter.

To defeat their enemies and return Tonk, the twins must do something they have never done.They must trust each other.
 

•  “Something they have never done” – Weak.

****

That was Bob's first pass. This query letter was relegated to the trashcan & an edit commenced.  Tomorrow, he'll share the next incarnation of his query letter as he continued in his quest for the Perfect Query -- one that results in "send me pages."

Does the thought of writing a query letter fill you with trepidation? Would you rather have oral surgery than try to attract an agent's attention?  Why not try Bob's approach?  Write a letter knowing that you're going to trash it.  Then edit it relentlessly.  Do you have any experience with writing a "trashy" query letter? Comment below & let me know.

Leather Windows: Why Genre Matters

I facilitate a weekly Writing Practicum, where a core group of dedicated writers workshop their projects. 

One of our members is a very talented writer who specializes in BDSM erotica.  The rest of the group -- including me -- are, to put it mildly, "vanillas."  We are simply not equipped to intelligently comment on the parts of her writing that make it fall into either the BDSM or erotica genre.  We don't read it.  And we certainly don't "get it."

We're very good at discussing character, plot, motivation, clarity, structure, and execution.  But when it comes to the specialized genre-specific stuff, we implode.  We ask what must be very stupid questions.  We try gamely, but it's abundantly clear that we're not the target audience.

The experience has taught me a valuable lesson:  if this is what happens when I as a reader hit an unfamiliar genre, imagine a what happens when I put an agent in the same position.  Agents know what they want.  They tend to be very specific in their guidelines.  I would be a fool to ignore them.

On any given day, one or more agents that I follow on Twitter will post his or her query stats for the day / week / month / year.  A typical post will read:

"Number of queries received this week: 367
Number of queriers who have clearly never read agency submission guidelines: 275
Number of queries for genres I don't represent: 73
Number of partials requested: 2
Number of offers of representation: 0"

Now, while on the surface this may make querying look like the most futile exercise ever devised (and don't get me wrong: on many days I would subscribe to this theory), the numbers actually contain a message of hope instead of despair.

First, it should be obvious that refusing to read and follow submission guidelines is the quickest way for a writer to garner another form rejection to add to his or her collection. 

Guidelines tell writers how to help their submissions make it through the agent's e-mail gatekeeper (usually an intern who began as a fresh-faced naif eager to find the Next Great Novel, but who now fights falling down the slippery slope of cynicism on a daily basis from being forced to read queries from writers who flagrantly flaunt the rules).  The guidelines exist for a reason.  Disregard them at your own peril.


But I digress.  For it is the second stat that I want to focus upon.

When querying an agent, it is imperative that the manuscript in question have a clearly defined genre.

[A Short Tangential Digression for the Vocabulary Impaired:

For those who think that I am putting on airs talking in French, rest assured, genre is a perfectly good and necessary word in English.  Think of it as "shelving space."  It's the category that encompasses your book and all other books of a similar type.  The two largest genres are fiction (made up stuff) and non-fiction (true stuff).  Which should make it immediately obvious why agents and publishers point their fingers and laugh aloud at people who describe their book as a "fiction novel."  It's like calling your Hyundai an "automobile car."

The big genres have smaller sub-genres.  Fantasy, steampunk, romance, historical, mystery, western, science-fiction -- these are examples of fiction genres.  Further classification can be done by age or specialty (there are many sub-genres of mysteries, for instance), but you get the point.]

At this point, you may be thinking:

"Why is it so important for my book to fit into one of the genres my dream agent represents?  I've seen his sales stats, and they're impressive.  He could sell BP oil in the Gulf states!  So he says he's looking for YA fantasy & sci-fi.  I bet he's sick & tired of magic & quests.  I'll send him my adult crime thriller.  No doubt he'll leap at the chance to read something gritty and new.  All he needs to do is see my work, then he'll recognize my brilliance and sign me."

If so, you should reach up and slap yourself senseless before reading any further.  Go on.  I'll wait...

Imagine an artisan who makes stained glass windows.  He's well known for his windows.   Those building churches are willing to do business with him because they know they can trust his workmanship. 

The artisan is constantly looking for new glass suppliers, searching for those who can provide him with the saturated colors that make his windows a thing of beauty.  If you have gorgeous glass, he's happy to consider using it.  But if you have leather -- even if it's the softest, most supple leather on the planet -- the artisan has no use for it.  Trying to sell it to him will only waste his time.

One reason an agent specifies a preferred genre is because of the professional working relationships that agent has formed within the industry.  She may be on a first-name basis with every editor and publisher whose imprint publishes romances.  So she'd be the ideal person to shop around a well-written romance novel. 

But if you send her a similarly well-written memoir, even if she loves it, she may not be the one to try to sell it.  No one in her professional contacts publishes memoirs.  She has never worked with the editors who specialize in such things.  She doesn't have relationships with them.  Accepting your project would set herself up for an uphill climb.  It would be like making windows from leather.

Do yourself, your potential agent, and your manuscript a favor.  Know what genre your project falls into.  Then only shop it around to people who work in that genre.  You'll bypass the "wrong genre" line entirely. 

Assuming you've also read & followed the submission guidelines, you'll have broken through the masses of inappropriate submissions.  Those two simple steps will enable you to distinguish yourself from the hundreds of other hopefuls.  You may now offer the agent your beautiful glass.  The others are just collecting rejections on their world-class leather.

I Control My Words -- Words Don't Control Me

A Final Observation on Critiques and Criticism

The content in Tuesday's post, Advice or Attack: Thoughts on Giving & Getting Criticism, coupled with the receipt of a form rejection has caused me to muse a bit more on my responsibilities as a writer...

One of the hardest things to do is distance myself from my words far enough to be able to objectively consider their real merits. I use several techniques for creating this objectivity. One of the main ones is to imagine I am reading my rival’s work instead of my own. This little mental exercise is often all I need to break the parent / child connection I have with my words and see them for what they really are...

My words are just that: words. Ink on paper. Pixels on the screen. They cannot be humiliated, embarrassed, angry, proud, vain, or self-conscious. They are inanimate objects.

Ah, but stones and arrows are also inanimate objects. Like stones and arrows, words must be wielded with restraint.

I recently made the mistake of reading and commenting on a co-authored script as if I had written the piece by myself but was critiquing it as if it were from a rival. I was ruthless. I marked every place where things didn’t ring true, where the dialogue was stilted, inane, or dead-on. I shredded assumptions. I questioned motivation. I made the snarkiest of snarky comments.

In short, I forced objectivity and ripped the script to shreds – all with the intention of highlighting weak areas in order to rework them and make them strong.

I critiqued the heck out of the script. But I neglected to take my co-author into consideration.

My co-author has worked in the film industry for years. He has a very thick skin. He didn’t take my comments personally. But he didn’t take them well. He wanted constructive criticism and me writing repeated variations of ”I hate her right now. She’s a selfish, whiny, spoiled bitch!” about a character didn’t help.

(A side note: This kind of self-criticism does helps me when I edit my own work. When I go back to make changes, I take the negative comments and use them to build upon. However, I NEVER write such things about other people’s work. It’s just too harsh and people become defensive. I know better. There are better ways to say “This doesn’t work for me” than “This SUCKS!”)

I don’t need to handle my co-author’s words with kid gloves. But I do need to treat them with dignity. Because no matter how much we writers say we want criticism – and we do! – we do not want to be criticized.

The magical thing about the words I write, however, is that they can affect people – myself included.

And that is so COOL!

The words I write have the potential to move you, inspire you, entertain or intrigue you. They can open up a whole new world and invite you to explore it. They can cause you to look at this world differently. They can introduce you to people who are more real than the people you see every day. They can change your life.

But this can only happen if they are done right.

Wielding words is a lifetime learning experience. In the same vein, the ability to decode the intent of another person’s written words can also take awhile.

Forms Don’t Fuel Fights

Literary agent Janet Reid (a.k.a. the tough but fair Query Shark) commented on Twitter last week:

I see some very clever ideas just flattened by telling, not showing. I have forsworn remedial interaction after several unhappy scuffles.

When I read that, I felt the community of still-unrepped-but-hopeful-and-hardworking-writers (to which I belong) had lost a valuable resource. An agent who once freely dispensed advice on how to improve one’s craft is no longer doing so because the writers she was trying to help mistook her criticism of their work for criticism of them.

Ms. Reid is not alone in her unwilling participation in the aforementioned “unhappy scuffles.” I follow many editors and agents on Twitter. At least once a day, one of them will comment on receiving a rejection rant. Personally, I consider it the rejected writer’s way of committing career suicide.

For shame! Critique notes, no matter how pointed or painful, can point out a heckuva lot more that needs to be improved in my writing than a standard form rejection.

If I submit something for representation there are many reasons why an agent might send me a form rejection.

• My query may be inadequate, with so-so writing that doesn’t do justice to my book.
• The agent may be swamped with queries.
• The agent may have enough clients at the moment.
• I may not have done my homework well enough and submitted a query for a genre the agent doesn’t rep.

A form rejection does nothing more than tell me to “move along” in my quest for representation. It’s the easiest way for an agent to say “No.” Plus, they don’t fuel fights.

If, however, I can get an agent or intern to look at my query and take the time to critique it, then I feel like I have a Golden Ticket.

It’s up to me to decide how to play it. I can tear it to shreds, fling it in the air, and hurl epithets at the agent who gave me the Ticket – because what I really wanted was a pony! Or I can shelve my pride and my ego and consider my writing through the Ticket’s filter.

Of course accepting someone’s criticism of my work is difficult to do. The fact that it’s necessary doesn’t make it any easier. That’s why, when I proffer criticism of my own, I must remember that though it’s meant about the Work, it will first affect the Writer.

How do you handle giving or getting criticism? How do you distance yourself from your work to allow it to benefit from another’s perspective? Comment below and let me know.

Playing the Query Game

or, Learning to Swim With Sharks

I have recently suggested that all the writers I counsel (as well as myself) play a little game before they send out a single query. To wit:

1.) Go to agent Janet Reid's Query Shark Blog.

2.) Copy the text from several random submissions into a Word .doc and delete all of the agent's comments without reading them.

3.) Read the original query as if you were the agent to whom it is addressed. Cross out unnecessary things. Comment on things that strike you as just *wrong.* Edit the crap out of it.

4.) Based on the original query, decide whether or not you would pass on the proposed project or request a partial.

5.) Compare your comments & responses with the actual agent's.

6.) Repeat with new queries from the archives until your instincts match the agent's.

7.) NOW -- write your own query for your own stuff... Engage in Steps 3 and 4 until you (the Agent) would ask to see more of the project.

8.) Research agents (fodder for another post, another day). Send that query out and put it to work for you.

** NOTE: When you have finished playing, be sure to delete all the copied files from your computer. They're not your words. Give them back to their rightful owners...

Though I have several non-fiction books in print, I was able to do so without the help of an agent. Fiction, however, is a different ballgame. A different game requires different players, and like other serious writers, I believe that an agent will be necessary in order for me to play to win.

The process of playing the Query Game has been invaluable to me, personally. It has also helped the writers that I work with make enormous intuitive leaps in understanding how an agent approaches the query process. I am eternally grateful to Ms. Reid for the time she has spent making such a learning tool available to the ranks of we humble hopefuls...

Good luck! All the best in your writing.

10 Query Tips

by Guest Blogger Kelly Smith: Writer, blogger, Writing Practicum member, and quilting aficionado.

As a writer completing my first novel I've been doing a lot of reading and learning about how to query literary agents. While each agent has his or her own minor likes and dislikes (one might like to be referred to formally as "Ms. X" while another might say, "Hey, call me Bill," for example), and while those are important points to note, there are some general things that nearly all agents agree on.

1. Get Straight to the Point.
Agents may only look at the first line or two of your query, especially if they're reading it on their iPhone or Blackberry. Don't clutter the top of the e-mail with anything other than your query.

Don't belabor how or why you wrote the book. Don't tell them your bio or life story. They don't care. Just get to the point. What is the story?

2. Hook Them.
Jump right into the world of the novel. Don't give them back story, engage in world building, or plunge into character development. Just fling them headlong into the story. For example:

Dear Ms. Agent,

Romeo and Juliet are in love, but their families are feuding. Casting aside allegiance to their parents, and fighting against their fate to be sworn enemies, the young lovers sneak off to marry with the help of a friendly friar. Juliet's father, not knowing about the marriage to Romeo, arranges another marriage for her. A catastrophic misunderstanding ensues.

ROMEO AND JULIET is a 100,000 word novel set against a backdrop of feuding nobility in fourteenth century Verona, Italy.

Thank you for your consideration.

William Shakespeare
Somewhere in London

3. Give Enough Information, But Not Too Much.
Agents receive hundreds of queries a week. You will have less than a minute to make a good impression. Don't send enormous chunks of text. Keep sentences short, simple, and direct.

They don't care why you wrote the book. They don't care about this cool new species / planet / secret weapon / etc. that you've created unless the entire plot turns on it. Even then, keep the description short; one sentence, maybe two.

Don't introduce them to every character. Just tell them the good guy and the bad guy and the conflict. (Or, the main character and the situation he or she is fighting against, which is the same as "the bad guy.")

Leave them wanting more so that they will request pages or, if you are supremely lucky, the whole manuscript. In other words, don't spill the ending.

4. Give the Right Information.
Tell them the protagonist, the antagonist and the conflict. (There is a conflict, right?)

Tell them something that will make them like the protagonist. If they hate the characters they won't want to read it anymore than readers will.

Tell them the title, genre, and word count.

Tell them if you have published anything or won any awards, but be selective. Winning a contest is great - if they've ever heard of the contest and if it is a prestigious one. If you won a writing prize in high school, they won't care. If you won an O. Henry award for a short story, that's probably worth mentioning.

5. Don't Tell Your Life Story.
The query is about the novel, not about you, so make sure to keep the focus on the story. Also, anyone can write a novel -- you don't need qualifications. You're not applying for a job, so don't send them the equivalent of a resume, or worse, your whole bio. That comes later, if they choose to represent you.

6. Just as in Writing Your Novel, Show, Don't Tell.
Be specific. Don't write something like, "Frodo and Sam went on an epic journey where their lives were endangered numerous times, but eventually Frodo dropped the ring into the fires of Mount Doom." That's dull and leaves out all the specifics that made the journey in The Lord of The Rings so amazing.

Try something like, "Frodo and Sam walk for weeks, led by the treacherous Gollum, through swamps full of dead people, up the steep steps at Cirith Ungol until they are exhausted and starving. Gollum tricks Sam into leaving. Soon after, Frodo is captured by a giant spider, stung and wrapped in her web. Sam thinks his friend is dead, and to avenge him, charges ahead into certain death at the hands of the Orcs, only to discover that Frodo is still alive."

Details like "swamps full of dead people" and "giant spiders" show the danger Sam and Frodo were in instead of just telling it.

7. Don't Claim that Your Book Will Be a Blockbuster.
Chances are you are not the next J. K. Rowling or Stephen King, no matter what your mother thinks. Spare the poor agent your fantasies of being the Next Big Thing. Just tell him what your book actually is and let him decide if it's something he wants to represent.

Be especially careful of comparing your book to other new books that have not been published yet. On her blog, Query Shark had a message from a colleague that said, "He can't have read any of the specific books, two of the authors hadn't been published yet and one of the books will have a different title when it IS eventually published. And I may be the ONLY thing those books have in common."

Don't be the person to send a query like that.

8. Show That You Are a Professional (Even if You're a Newbie).
Be polite. Address the agent the way he or she wants to be addressed. You have researched that on their blog, right? Some are formal, some not.

Make sure each query is designed for that particular agent and not just "generic agent."

Use proper grammar, spelling and punctuation. If you can't do that in a simple letter, the agent will never believe you're capable of writing a novel.

Don't include any personal achievements or accomplishments that are not directly related to being published.

9. Sign Off Gracefully.
After you've hooked them, introduced them to the main character and described the central conflict there's nothing left to do but sign off. "Thank you for your consideration," is a nice closing.

Some agents hate to be told what to do, so something like, "I look forward to hearing from you soon," although innocuous can set some teeth on edge. It sounds like you're telling them to hurry up and get back to you. Simple is better.

10. Avoid Attachments.
Finally, don't attach anything unless the agent specifically asks for attachments. In general, agents want the query included the body of the e-mail. If they ask for pages, they often want them included in the body of the message as well. Always follow the specific instructions for that specific agent.

For some great advice and to see examples of many bad (and a precious few good) queries, visit the Query Shark blog of agent Janet Reid. She takes the time to not only critique the queries people send her, but does it publicly on her blog so we can all benefit from her expertise. It is worth the time to read over her entries and use what you learn there.

Good luck!

******


Kelly Smith is the author of Open Your Heart with Quilting: Mastering Life Through Love of the Patches (Dreamtime Publishing 2008).

She also writes about quilting for Examiner.com and was published in Quilter’s Home magazine’s November 2008 issue. She is working on her first novel and will soon publish her second non-fiction book.

Selling Short

Yours Truly is a guest blogger today on Literary Database. In my post, I sing the praises of Short and Sweet Queries.

The more I work with people who "live" online, the more I am struck by the importance of keeping one's query verbiage to a minimum. No lengthy "why I wrote this" nonsense. No "here's what the reader will learn" milksop. No detailed histories, character bios, or 3-Act beats. Save your writing prowess for the Piece. But don't weigh down your query with bling.

This is counterintuitive to many writers. I include myself in that group. I fight the desire to "sell myself" in my query, but that's not necessary.

A query is not supposed to sell ME. (Little known secret: A query is really not even supposed to sell an article or a book.) A query is simply supposed to bring to editors', agents', and publishers' attention that YOU have written something THEY need. They know what they need. All a query does is tell them where to go to find it.

I have completely revised how I teach writers to structure their queries. Especially when it comes to platform-building articles, I strongly encourage all writers to follow the "less is more" approach to their queries. In essence:

1.) Say how you know what they need.

I saw on "Kitchen Kookery" that you are looking for family-friendly recipes.

This is the Queryland equivalent of networking.

2.) Say what you have.

I would like to submit "Perfect Pancakes" for your consideration. In approximately 600 words, it details the art of creating flawless flapjacks.

This translates to: "This piece is for sale."

3.) Say who you are.

I am a 4-star chef with over 7 years of experience as a mother and a short-order cook.

Translation: "I am qualified."

4.) Say "Good night," Gracie.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Translation: "Good night!"

In all your brevity, however, don't forget to include your contact information.

In the last month, I have sold at least 5 pieces to new markets. None of my acceptance notes were more than 2 sentences long (with the exception of the contract verbiage). One, from a respected, well-paying market, consisted of a single word:

Sold!

Did I feel cheated because of the short communications? Hardly. I simply took it as an indicator of how the industry pros preferred their correspondence.

Just call me a new fan of selling short!

Bad Query! No Contract!

or, Tales from the Slush Pile

"The Rejectionist," a pseudonym for a literary agent's assistant who would rather remain namless, recently contributed an Op-Ed piece on the horrors of the slush pile to The Stranger.

If you're even remotely considering sending out a query letter in the near future, the post is worth a read -- not only because it comes from someone whom you are hoping to impress with your storytelling talent, but also because it drives home the fact that reading anything from the slush pile would make most mortals slit their wrists as a viable option to making the pain just... go away.

The assistant's job, as anyone even remotely associated with the publishing industry can tell you, is akin to trying to find a ready-to-eat gourmet meal somewhere within a full-to-overflowing dumpster.

Sure, it's possible. But it ain't probable. It ain't pretty. And sometimes it kinda just makes you want to retch...

The Rejectionist details the all-too-familiar elements of bad query letters. Of course, these include the de rigueur uninspired and unimaginative writing (conspiracy theories, cardboard caricatures instead of characters, aliens, graphic and mechanical sex) of talentless hacks who refuse to take their craft or their career seriously.

However, bad query letters can also afflict those who have a great story to tell. Sometimes, it's not the concept that's at fault. All too often, it's the execution.

The Rejectionist laments:

The bad query's sentence sometimes resembles a battlefield wherein subjects hack it out desperately with adjectives, perennially besieged by legions of unwieldy adverbs. Apostrophes go on suicide missions and commas appear at random.

It goes on from there. Read the whole post of "A Good Author is Hard to Find." Seriously. Then edit your current manuscript or, better yet, find someone you trust to give you an honest opinion about its "publishability."

(A note: the opinions of friends, family, and spouses do not count here. These fine folk serve the excellent and necessary purpose of reading what you write, loving it, loving you, and thinking you are brilliant. They are not the best selections for objective "would you buy this?" critiques and edits.)

Do yourself and your project a favor. Raise the bar -- because the publishing world is hungry for the next great writer. It's up to us to give those poor starving assistants something they can sink their teeth into.