An Editor's Perspective: Q & A With Entangled Publishing's Adrien-Luc Sanders, Part I

MuseInks is honored to 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'm breaking his interview into two parts. Today features his responses to five questions about an editor's lot in life and suggestions for how writers can improve their chances for success in submissions.

Q: What is the most common misconception about your role as an editor? 

A:  That all I do, day in, day out, is read submissions, and there's no reason why I shouldn't have had time to read theirs by now, and clearly I must hate them and enjoy stringing them along.

I don't hate anyone. Well, correction: I don't hate any authors. We won't talk about my mother-in-law. I'd never string subbing authors along. I love reading submissions and acquiring new authors; it's just not the only thing I do.

My day can consist of anything from filling out mountains of acquisitions paperwork to working on my authors' edits, reviewing their in-house submissions, developing long-term and short-term strategy for the two lines I manage, management meetings, line meetings, marketing meetings, finance meetings (meetings happen, can you tell?), fielding questions from associate editors, author and editor phone calls, random agent phone calls with "oh my god I have the most awesome manuscript for you!" (love those so much), promoting and supporting my authors, managing contract requests, coaching associate editors, vetting the submissions they want to acquire, reviewing manuscripts they've edited for quality control, chasing down paperwork, answering author questions, calming author meltdowns, creating and tweaking the lines' logos and graphics, designing covers...

I'm sure I've left something out there. That list would be twice as long if I didn't have Kerri-Leigh Grady, my partner in crime for Entangled Flirts and Ever Afters, to handle release scheduling and keep my head on straight.

The point is, reading cold submissions is only a fraction of my job. I still try to prioritize it for a set amount of time every week.

But I've been there as a subbing author. I know waiting is a grueling process, especially when the editor (or agent) takes a long time to respond and you have no idea what they're doing that isn't reading your sub. I learned to wait patiently, if not to be patient myself.

I know that personally, I never mean to neglect any author, and if you're wondering what I'm doing when I should be reading your sub? All of the above, plus snorkeling a mug of coffee and wishing for one more hour in the day so I could, well, read your sub.

Q: What do you consider the best part of an editor's job?

A:  Release day. I love watching my authors on release day. They just transform from this jittery bundle of nerves into this radiant tangle of excitement and joy, and you can see that moment where all the grueling work becomes worth it, to see their book up for sale at major retailers. All the late nights, the frustration over that one damned sentence, the writer's block, the edits that wouldn't end, the "oh god this is the seventeenth time I've read this thing PLEASE GOD END ME NOW"--all worth it.

Sometimes it can feel like an uphill battle through endless rounds of edits, picking at every tiny thing until it's perfect, but on release day it just crystallizes and they're so happy. It leaves me kind of giddy, seeing that. Knowing that I was able to help make them that happy, through our work together.

Q:  What's the toughest part of an editor's job?

A:  Firing authors. It hurts, honestly. Some people just aren't suited for this business, and we find out after one or two books that:

a.) they don't have the mentality it takes to be professional about editing and about their careers as authors;
b.) they only had one or two good books in them and after that they just can't reproduce the magic no matter how much we coach them;
c.) they don't listen to edits and keep shoehorning the same massive issues into manuscripts over and over again; or,
d.) they're just flat-out crazy, demanding, or have unrealistic expectations, and they hid it until they had a contract.

Sometimes we just have to say it's not working out, and part ways. I try not to do that; I try to work with authors to get past the issues, and there's been more than one Come to Jesus phone call -- but there comes a point where the time investment in one author is hurting your other authors, and that's when you have to let go.

That doesn't change that during the editing process, we've built a relationship. We may not be best friends, but it's a bit different from the normal relationship you have with coworkers. You're in the trenches together, and you're with each other at 3 a.m. when that turn of phrase isn't working out, you just can't go to bed until it does, galleys are due in tomorrow, and one of you is freaking out. (It's not always the author.) It does create a certain kind of bond, and as you discuss in-depth edits you get to know each other quite a bit. Every relationship with every author is unique, and firing an author makes me feel like I've betrayed that relationship. It's a necessary part of my job, but it doesn't bother me any less to have to hurt and disappoint them that way.

Q:  What specific advice do you have for authors to improve their chances for getting their submissions accepted?

A:  Don't send me your first book. Well--don't send the first book you've ever written.

Until you're published, every book you send out on sub is your first. But there's a 1% chance or less that the very first thing you commit to the page will be absolute genius. Those savants are out there, but more often than not your first story is a practice exercise while you figure out what this storytelling thing is all about. The end result is most likely a mess. Once you finish it: figure out the mistakes you made the first time through, toss that first book in a drawer, and start another one. I can promise you it'll be infinitely better than the first. The third? Better still. I don't care if you send me your second book or your fifteenth, as long as you send me your best--and not your first.

Q:  If you could permanently eradicate one submission error you see all the time that most pushes your This Irks Me button, what would it be?

A:  Other than mangling my name and calling me Adrienne, Ms. Sanders, and Mrs. Luc-Sanders? (Seriously, people, know who you're subbing to. I don't need a personal love letter, but it's nice to know you took five seconds to know who I am before you try to sell me your book.)

No--I think the most common error is not actually having a story. I don't mean the author doesn't have a manuscript--they do. But they don't actually tell a story. They thought of one or two cool scenes, or a bunch of cool concepts, and kind of randomly jumbled them together into something that may progress over a set time period to a conclusion, but isn't actually a story.

There's no arc, no character development, no resolution of conflict, sometimes no conflict at all. It's just "things happened to people until I got tired of writing and ran out of ideas." That's not a story, but that's what crops up in my inbox much too often.

I won't say it irks me so much as it makes me sad, as more often than not these are naive new writers who need to spend more time honing their craft and understanding the business, and I only hope as they continue to write, they'll get a wake-up call and improve. I can't really be that wake-up call, unfortunately. While I give personal feedback with rejections, if I coached every new author I rejected I'd end up doing nothing else.

Tune in on Monday for the rest of the interview...

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...

The Problem With Pitching

“You must learn to pitch” is a commonly heard mantra in the publishing industry. I’m not going to be so disingenuous as to suggest that a writer doesn’t need to pitch well. If you can write a compelling story in 100,000 words, you dang well better be able to say a sentence or two that makes people want to read those words. Boy Howdy, you betcha!

But beware of buying into the fallacy that pitching is the Be All and End All of a writer’s career.

Ty Cobb probably knew how to pitch a baseball, but that’s not why he’s remembered. Pitching didn’t make him great. Knocking the ball into next week is what made him a legend.

On more occasions than I care to remember, I have gotten a writing job because someone else lobbed the publisher or producer a heckuva pitch—

And then choked when it came time to deliver.

Usually those writing gigs end up being Top Sekrit Ghost Projekts that I can only talk about in the vaguest of terms because – really – it’s just bad form to go around saying things like “I got this job only because Writer A can’t write her way out of a paper bag" or "If Writer X hadn't choked when it counted and turned in drivel that would embarrass a kindergartener, I wouldn't be here."

A pitch is an idea.
It needs a writer to make it live.

You see, it's one thing to be able to say a few glowing sentences and get people excited about a project's potential. In fact, being able to get people SO excited that they are willing to pony up real, cashable checks, payable to you, just on the basis of those few sentences is a special talent. Frankly, it's a talent I wish I had.

I don't. (More on that in my next blog post, tentatively titled "How to Get a Book Deal When You Suck at Pitching.")

Instead, I have something else: the ability to actually create a book or script that takes the idea of a pitch and turn it into real words on a page.

"You can't copyright an idea" is a famous Real World truism.

Another is "you can't publish (or produce) a pitch."

The problem with pitching is too many writers feel that once they've successfully lobbed the idea at the Dealmakers, then their job is done. In reality, it has only just begun.

To quote literary agent Scott Eagan:"You can have a rocking query but if the writing sucks, then the writing sucks." Granted, Mr. Eagan wrote that line in a post about the importance of writing a great query letter (or pitch), but there is no escaping the fact that the best query in the world won't mask the travesty of a manuscript that doesn't deliver.

The problem with pitching is that some writers have spent too much time practicing their salesmanship instead of perfecting their craft. They are then shocked - shocked! - to discover that when it's time to deliver the heat, they strike out. What they thought was a kickass fastball doesn't have enough juice to carry it over the plate.

"You must learn to pitch" is very true. I don't dispute that for a second. But if you don't first learn to write -- and write WELL -- then you're going to strike out long before you hit the major leagues.

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!