Doing your homework

Before we started sending out queries, we did a good bit of research.

We looked up templates that stated a clear formula. There's a good example of the sort of examples you find at http://www.charlottedillon.com/query.html:

Date

Editor or Agent's Name
Publisher or Agent's Address

Dear Ms. Name, 

To start off, give the name and length and type of manuscript you are sending...

Standard fare. Ok, we started building a template.

Once we had a general description of the book that fit the formula, we started scanning sites that gave more in-depth examples, preferably lots of them. For example, my personal favorite, Janet Reid's Query Shark. Wow, what a goldmine...

But then, we realized how utterly inappropriate our query was, precisely because we were doing what so many other sites had said to do. How could that be? I mean, these were examples from experts, in writing, on the WEB for goodness' sake...

And the Peanut Gallery says "Ah."

Even I, the monumentally dense classic example of the charming nerd, eventually came to realize that this is not computer science.  There is no query-reading machine spitting out punch-cards stating YES WE WILL TAKE THIS BOOK (beeeeep), or NO THIS ONE IS STUPID (buzzzzz).  The people to whom we were sending queries were people, human beings with lives and moods and prejudices, who drink coffee and miss breakfast and have arguments with spouses or bosses or idiots on the freeway.

Oh, my.  How could we ever write a query that would work in this chaotic morass of humanity?

Well, the simple answer is, you get incredibly lucky, and just happen to send the query to the person who likes them the way you've done it and likes the idea, the voice, and the prospects of the sale.  Personally, I think you'd have better odds to just drop two years of your life on Black 13 at a roulette table.

Skip the simple answer. That's not the way real life works.  Stop trying for an easy solution.  You've spent months and months of effort developing characters, plot, setting, tension, rising action and reader rapport, researching details and honing dialogue...now you're going to balk at having to do a little more homework?

Yes, more homework.  If you're planning to send your query to Janet Reid, then for God's sake read the Query Shark blog - ALL of it - and customize your query to something that truly represents your work in the way most likely to garner her interest. Even if you aren't going to send it to her, read her blog anyway, but understand not every agent thinks the same way.  Others will dismiss your query for not doing something that she will possibly reject you for including, but you should still look at everything she has to say, because a lot of it is just good sense, and even where her tastes differ, reading it will help you find your own voice for the query itself.

If sending to an agency that always wants genre and wordcount up front, rewrite the query for them.  Put the genre and wordcount up front. Try to find out what that agent wants.  Sarah LaPolla (Big Glass Cases) says she hates prologues; if you're sending pages, consider renaming it to chapter one, or dropping it altogether for her. (Though if the book stands without it, should it really have been there anyway?)

Sending queries is stressfull. My wife and I both laugh about the send-button blues, where we sit with the mouse pointer hovering near SEND but don't click yet, giving ourselves just a few more minutes to think of that mysterious something we have inevitably forgotten.

Yet the work has helped.  We finally have a request for a manuscript, though not an offer of representation yet.  We're optimistic, but not counting chicks. We're also still working on the query, just in case.

Now if only every agent had a blog like Ms. Reid's. But then, she is the top of the food chain. ;o]

Passing the rod

Sabrina has handled the query process for Hush since we first began shopping it, but is suffering rejection fatigue, so wants to hand off the baton for a while.  I prefer to call it "passing the rod", as in "spare the rod, spoil the child".  We've been none too sparing with the rod of correction on the ugly baby, and the manuscript has prospered because of it, but apparently the regular return of "thanks, but it isn't what I'm looking for right now" from agents we really wanted eventually feels like a beating.

This is to be expected. An agent is looking for low hanging fruit, and may well pass up the fat, ripe, and juicy if it involves too much climbing and going out on a limb for a new author.  This is particularly hard on Sabrina, who was the primary contributor of the underlying idea as well as word count.  This particular ugly baby was a labor of love, and hearing professional agents say over and over "it isn't for me" is disheartening.  I do understand.

I also understand, perhaps more viscerally, that these rejections aren't telling us the work is unworthy.  That may be hard for most people to hold in mind when getting another "no, thanks," but though I've contributed quite a bit, including chapters written, plot revisions, lots of technical consulting, and editing, editing, and yet more editing, I've always thought of this work primarily as Sabrina's.  It began as a vignette in her mind, and expanded through NaNoWriMo.  Yes, we've both worked on it for over two years where we could steal a few hours here and a weekend there, but I never tire of it.

I understand why an agent might be hesitant.  If I want to be a little facetious, it's true enough with just a sprinkling of hyperbole to call it a literary post apocalyptic dystopian science fiction horror thriller with strong elements of social commentary.  That makes it a little tricky to pigeonhole.  We've been shopping it as horror, but decided we should be calling it science fiction.  I think that it might even qualify as a psychological thriller, but you have to pick a single, simple genre.  Agents don't want complicated decisions; where do we put it on the shelf?

But it's not that complicated.  The stress is all caused by the effort to artificially categorize it.  Call it sci-fi and toss it on the shelf with Zelazny and King. "Under the Dome" isn't exactly horror. Sci-fi readers are used to browsing through disparate styles and types of content. What should matter is the quality of the story.  This book, as yet unpublished, has already made its way to my top shelf of favorites.  We wrote it, and I still can't read some scenes without getting choked up and teary eyed. Admittedly, I cry at some commercials (I love that bulldog with the sign that says he's not gonna cry...), but I've been having this reaction on these same scenes for two years, and it still makes it tricky to work together on them because I try to be the tough guy, and then my throat closes and I squeak.  My wife graciously ignores it (thank you , love), and we manage to correct a word here and a phrase there.

We're not heating, hammering, and quenching anymore; we're applying oil and slow strokes of the smooth stone to get the edge clean. To switch back to the overarching metaphor, the labor and delivery are done; now we're just breast feeding and changing the occasional diaper.  It's done.

It's not the best book I've read, but if it were published, I'd give it away and buy another, as I usually do with my favorites, to people I like and think deserve them. Maybe I'm just smitten, but I think it's as good as a lot of Stephen King's work.  Better than most of Dean Koontz, Michael Crichton, Philip K. Dick or any of several other authors on whom I've spent worthwhile money. Unfortunately, you can't actually say that in a query if you want to be taken seriously.

Bragging? Meh. Bree did all the best parts. I just helped a lot.
Well, maybe, yeah, bragging a little, on her.

So I took over the query process.  I took the same general query and synopsis she's been using, and the first few agents she suggested.  We now have a request for the manuscript.  It's not a sale, but it is a much needed boost in our self confidence.

Sometimes, you just have to believe.

Confidence - the flag everyone can wave-r

Flagging confidence is the great enemy of the new author. How does one combat it? Apparently, the adoration of one's thoroughly smitten spouse doesn't quite quench doubts regarding the quality of one's book. :)

We all ask friends and family to proof read for us, but honestly, who has time for that? I mean, there's work, and then you have to spend time at home with your own family, and then squeeze in a little time for yourself... We do understand that, but if not friends and family, then whom do you ask?

I have several friends who read.  Most are pretty picky about genre.  Several have promised to read over the ms and give feedback, but they can't finish the four books they are already reading (each), and it's impossible to escape the pervasive attitude that this isn't really a book yet, anyway.  I don't blame them.  I just wish they'd say no, rather than leave us waiting for feedback that never comes.

We formed a critique group, but the genre interests were so diverse that it was difficult to get relevant commentary, even from diligent and well-meaning peers.  I confess, though I tried very hard, it was difficult to squeeze in time for me to read everyone else's work and give it the thorough raking over the coals that each wanted and deserved.  I was perversely flattered when one respected compatriot told me he hated me for a few days afterward, but then used some of my suggestions.  I felt I'd done my job, the hard task of telling someone the worst news. I happen to like his work a lot, but as a critic my job isn't to pat him on the back and offer blandishments, and likewise I truly appreciated every time he looked at some convoluted paragraph of my own work and told me he had no idea what I was talking about.

It really helps to get constructive criticism, but it's hard.  Bree says "our families are as supportive as a double-A bra." My family aren't voracious readers of fiction, so we haven't bothered them with it.  Hers want to wait till it has an ISBN. We shrug.

Currently we're working on getting dedicated proofreaders at http://critters.org/ where members are actively seeking works to critique, and are accustomed to reading fantasy, sci-fi and horror.  Friends and family have something invested in our emotional well-being. Critters, as critters.org folk are called, can only react to what's on the page. That's ideal.

Co-authoring. Co-Writing. Maybe Just A Payout Would Work Better...

Co-authoring sounds like a great idea, especially if the two writers are great friends and love the same genres. Right?

Maybe not. Co-authoring comes with a lot of baggage most people never stop to consider.

What is the reason for writing the book together? Do the two of you (or more) have complimentary skills? Is one writer more knowledgeable on scientific advances and possibilities while the other has a strong grasp of character development? Maybe one isn't a writer at all but has a great concept? These seem like great reasons to co-author.

No? You're both writers who happen to enjoy science fiction? That might work, I guess. That means it's time to ask another series of questions.

How will you divide tasks? If everyone involved intends to write at the same time, I can tell you there's trouble ahead. Just the editing is going to be painful, never mind the discussions (I'll assume discussions, not arguments) over plot and character.

"I'll take this chapter, you take that one," may work, it certainly sounds like a fair co-author relationship, but at the end of it, there's still that problem of a single cohesive voice, unless you're writing something very experimental. It might work beautifully if you're changing character perspectives, but I can imagine all kinds of problems with  sudden changes in tone so jarring they take the reader right out of the story.

Once you have all those kinks figured out, consider the legalities of being part of a co-author team. That can get scary and it can kill friendships. How will you divide advances and royalties? I imagine several friends in a restaurant, having just enjoyed a meal and good conversation, haggling over who ate what when the check comes. That is one annoying situation that never fails to drive me insane. Just split the bill - it'll even out the next time!

Is that something you're willing to do when it comes to your overall finances, especially concerning this baby you've worked on for a year or three?

That brings me to rights. Are you both hoping for that second edition? What happens to the rights once the publisher has finished with your book? Who has the right to blog about the book, to give interviews, etc?

It all starts to sound a little more complicated than Wouldn't it be fun to write a book together? Getting all those details ironed out in the beginning seems intelligent, as does a written contract. Hey, marriages sometimes begin with prenuptial agreements, and though I have strong feelings against such a start to a relationship that should be built on trust, I do understand the reasons some people take that route. It can save a lot of red tape and financial pain if things get sticky. Co-authoring doesn't involve nearly as many emotional strings as marriage, though some with more experience in that area may disagree.

With all the hassle involved in co-authoring, maybe it would be wiser to invest in a ghost writer, or write up a contract indicating a payment upon sale of the book. Either way, it might be best to give co-authoring a bit more thought. On second thought, make that a lot more thought.

We're far from experts on this subject, but there are some things that are just common sense to consider when co-authoring, or getting involved in any other partnership.

It's a Job

Being an agent, I mean.  They get up in the morning and brush their teeth and drive to work like the rest of us.  Imagine walking in and seeing the slush pile sitting there waiting for you.  Can you imagine the ennui? The malaise? The big sighs and noses sore from the grindstone?

So pretend it's you.  Two hundred people want you to look at their books this week and make them rich and famous.  A hundred of them can't consistently make complete sentences of correctly spelled words that are grammatically valid and properly punctuated, but you have to read those too.  You hope most of them make their errors right in the query so that you can discount them as soon as possible.

Another fifty manage to write well, but they are writing the same thing you read last week, and the week before, and every week since you started this.  Aliens are here to conquer Earth, a common Joe must carry the great magical thingy to be destroyed while being pursued by meanies, beautiful vampires are angst-ridden and trying to be loved like everyone else...can you see it?  Even if an idea is a bit different, would you have the patience to read the whole query for the unique angle?  Head for another cup of coffee and a ten minute chat by the pot with another agent who's also having trouble staying awake, and discuss the kids' soccer team for a while.

So what grabs your attention?  A query has to be worth reading.  It has to suggest something different, but not so different that it isn't clear in a page.  Maybe you spend your days looking for "High Concept", something that will sell even if it's been done to death, or maybe you toss them as trite.  Do you like sci-fi better than fantasy?  Can you honestly give every query the full focus it deserves by three in the afternoon?  Few could.

Then there are those that do catch your attention, making you laugh right out loud - not at the wonderfully witty presentation, but at the absurdity of the attempt.  Some writer has determined to stand out, and in the process has made themselves look like a complete moron.  You take the query from office to office to share the levity, but manage to send back a respectful rejection nonetheless.  After all, you are a professional.

. . .

So as a writer I sit and stare at my query letter and try to figure out how to be noticed without looking like a buffoon.  I make the letter grammatically perfect, then stress over the way it sounds overly formal.  I colloquialize, and grind my teeth over sentences ending in prepositions.  Maybe if I change this adverbial phrase to a stronger verb?

Yes, all valid considerations, but honestly, as long as the overall voice is good, should they matter so very much?  Sometimes each of these foibles is intentionally used in writing to establish a mood.  Throwing out a query for one sentence ending in a preposition is like refusing to do business with a man because of the mediocre shine on his shoes.  It's asinine and misguided. I trust a successful agent to have better sense than that, and if not, then it's probably not someone I want to work with anyway.

Mood, on the other hand, is something that is always relevant.  The mood of the agent when reading my query will matter whether they like it or not...but it's not something I can control, so I can dismiss it from my own consideration.

All I can do is try to make my own query interesting, attention-grabbing, coherent, and true to the story.  If they want the story and they like my voice, then they'll pick up the book, just like any buyer in a B&N.  If not, then I stay on the shelf and wait for the next browser, though in this case it's a matter of sending to the next agent.

This is what all writers, especially new authors, have to go through.  Wish us luck.

The High Concept Gauntlet

According to Wikipedia, "High concept is a term used to refer to an artistic work that can be easily described by a succinctly stated premise."

It also says "An oxymoron ... is a figure of speech that combines contradictory terms."

Ok, forgive the jibe. I'll admit that it IS possible to create a work that "can be easily described by a succinctly stated premise" and still qualifies as art, but I'd call it the exception rather than the rule, and I'd put money that it's being sold short. "A rock the size of Texas is going to strike the Earth" is a great premise, full of potential and drama and opportunities for people to behave in a million interesting ways, but it doesn't mention anything about the characters in this particular story. Ok, meteor-doom -- even if it hadn't been done to death, what makes the story any good at all is the people this story is about, not the rock.

High Concept is a lie. It's not a "High" concept. It's a simplified premise, that's all, and in general has already been done to death. Shogun could have been stated as High Concept, virtually anything could -- "An English pilot becomes involved in the plotting for the Tokugawa Shogunate" describes the story, but says nothing about the romance, the culture shock, the Jesuits...

Every story either has elements you can't mention in the basic premise, or is pitifully monodimensional. To say otherwise isn't High Concept -- it's just high.

Sometimes Ugly is All You Got

The wife has been swamped of late, developing a nice bit of mass market fiction she's thoroughly enjoying. In the meantime, I steal the show and ramble again.

My babies are usually pretty ugly, and I have them in litters. I have three novels with significant word count, several with placeholder files, and synopses on my blackberry for SEVERAL more...

But one is full of song lyrics. Nobody explained what a massive pain it is to get licensing until I had a eighty thousand words. I'm hoping that as a second novel an agent will be willing to help me with that. There's one book tabled.

The next one is techie, a baby with green skin and antennae. I write very hard science fiction. It's what I want to read, worldbuilding details of setting, technology and politics, the variations in a non-homogenous interstellar culture... Not many want to read that level of tech.

What I enjoy writing is technical enough that few will buy it. I may be the best writer in the niche, but maybe no agent wants work so esoteric. I can "dumb it down", but what I enjoy in writing it may die in the process.

My babies are kinda ugly. I have to decide if I want to keep making them...