Today I:

Started with a clean kitchen floor,

Put in a fresh pair of contact lenses,

Dressed my shoes,

Trimmed my beard,

Paid the rent,

Cleaned the drain in Kim’s bathroom,

Scraped the snowboards,

Sent out two queries (okay, both to JABberwocky, lazy, but I just love their website) . . .

And blogged about it.

 

Today I’m sending in two more queries, one for Chivalry to Kathleen Anderson at Anderson Literary Management and one for The Peaceful and Just to Marcia Amsterdam at Marcia Amsterdam Agency. Both of these agents, surprisingly, asked for queries by snail mail, so I did the whole thing with the big envelope and lots of paper and printed words and a self-addressed stamped envelope. So at least I’ll get some mail.

Looking at my queries laid out on the desk, fat stacks of papers neatly lined up with a cover letter and printed words spread across the page, perfect, lovely . . .  It is good to look at. It is hopeful. Still, I can’t help but think of the phrase “Mail it in . . .” It is not an endorsement of quality.

It is strange now to scramble around looking for paper to print on, and hoping there is enough ink, and trying to make sure the manuscript looks right on the page. I remember my worry, years ago, that we would run out of trees, and so out of literature. Also my worries that every agent would want their submissions over the internet, and I wouldn’t have the technology to compete. Now I can send my submissions in a flash from my iPad, and it is this old style of solicitation that gives me pause.

It’s wonderful to think of someone in the literary world riffling the pages through their fingers and reading my words. Joyce: “The pages of his timeworn Horace never felt cold to the touch even when his own fingers were cold: they were human pages . . .”

Is it as close as I will ever get? Will Kathleen, or Marcia, or both, like what they read? Will my words spark their imagination? Will they ask me for more? What more can I do?

Joyce: “It wounded him to think that he would never be but a shy guest at the feast of the world’s culture and that the monkish learning, in terms of which he was striving to forge out an esthetic philosophy, was held no higher by the age he lived in than the subtle and curious jargons of heraldry and falconry.”

Ahh–wounded. Well, James, you made it, didn’t you. And so those words you wrote ended up being ironic, or prophesy, or something you read again with a smug and satisfied smile . . .

Now it’s my turn.

I remember the day I decided I could be a writer. It was summer and I was looking down the cul-de-sac from a spot near the front yard of our house in Gladstone, Oregon. There is a place where the sidewalk/bike path crosses from that cul-de-sac to another street. As kids we learned all sorts of ways to dodge between houses and fences to get where we wanted to go without using the normal sidewalks or streets. In this case, I looked at that particular pathway and it made me wonder where I was going to travel in my life once I started using the roads that everyone else uses.

By then I had already written some childish things, and some not so childish things, but that was the first time I really decided that a writer was what I was going to be. Even then I remember holding it back to myself, as a secret. I knew that I would go on to do all sorts of other things, and when I was finished exploring I would be a writer. It didn’t seem difficult at all. It was a realization of potential.

Nothing much has changed. I am still experiencing life, and I’m still thinking about being a writer, but now in a different way, not in a “someday I will” sort of way, but in a “this is my dream, this is my goal, and this is what I have to give” sort of way.

The difference between then and now is that now I work on it. I come up with ideas, and write out sentences, and the sentences turn into paragraphs, and then into chapters, and then into books. I rework and revise, over and over again. When I go back and read the books, I am impressed with what I have created. There are characters and there are stories, and also hidden in there is my whole life, my feelings about the world. I am tough to please, where books are concerned, but once I let them sit for a while I am pleased by what I have created.

Naturally, there are days when it all seems impossible, when I feel that I don’t have the talent of a shoe. Everyone feels that way sometimes. In reality I am excited, proud, trembling with eagerness to share my work. However, the thinking, the polishing, the finishing, the excitement, all of these things do not in themselves guarantee an audience. It seems like it should, but there is still another step to take, and a long road to walk.

I have to entice other people to read my stories. I have to find my audience. This is where an agent comes in. It is easy to feel that agents are antagonists. That is because they have the power of yes and no, and with the exception of Gordon Warnock, the only response I have ever received from an agent is “No.” That is not an accurate representation of what an agent does. Agents are there for the writer. They are the ones who earn a living by connecting writers to their audience. The agent must be just as enthusiastic about the project as the writer, and for to happen, the writer has to find the right agent for their work, instead of assuming that their work is simply “great” and that anyone should be able to see that.

Here, then, are my three resolutions.

I resolve to send out a query for one of my novels every two weeks. I have created the books I need to find an audience. I resolve to start fresh with each query as I go, until I find a way to describe my work that makes my agent want to read it.

I resolve to be selective when searching for my agent. I will not be lazy. I will not choose someone who sounds like they might fit. It is easy to find current information. I resolve to read blogs and websites and find the agent who is right for my work, and then convince them to read it.

I resolve to keep trying until I find my agent. I resolve not to get discouraged, or to think that I have no talent. I resolve to remember that agents get hundreds and thousands of letters, and that hard work pays off. I resolve to do the hard work until it does, and then start working harder.

As a writer working towards becoming a published author, I face a difficult and potentially heartbreaking reality that I try not to think about. I work hard to shape my novel, mapping out the story, rewriting, fleshing it out, revising, adding here, taking away there, realizing new things about my characters and putting them in place. When I finish it, I will read it over, and I will like it. I will believe that it is good enough, that other people might want to read it, and buy it. I think that other writers feel this way, too. In fact, I think that actually finishing a novel is quite an accomplishment, one that sets me apart from a lot of the others out there.

There is still a barrier in the way, and that is finding a way to get it into the hands of the people who are my audience. My audience is not my wife, or my mother, or my friends. They are all wonderful, but my audience is out there, in the world, in that part of the population of earth who is really interested in what I am writing. Out of the seven or so billion people in the world, believe me, there is someone who will relate to what I write on a personal level. They would like to be entertained by me. I know that.

That is where an agent comes in, and the potential for heartbreak. After doing all that work to finish a novel I believe that it is the best thing in the world. I think any author would feel that way. The problem is, finding an agent to feel that way too is really hard.

Part of the problem is they get so much stuff. They get letters every day from people like me who have finished novels and want to publish them. They have to sort through all those query letters. There is not a whole lot of critical advice given out. Either they like something and ask for more, or they reject it. That’s all. I think it is important to realize that part of the reason for rejection may just be that what they are reading just isn’t good enough. I am sure that there is that moment when an agent is reading a query letter where the sun shines down and he or she says, “this is it, this is the one.” It is my job to make what I send in so good that they have that moment when they read it. I don’t think any writer wants to admit it, but I suspect that a lot of what gets sent in just isn’t on that level.

Here is where the right tool comes in. If you are a writer, and you have finished what you know is a perfect story, and you want to find an agent, make sure that you research the agents you send it to. All of them have profiles online that tell all about themselves. Find one you connect with, so that they can connect with you. Don’t be upset if you choose badly and aren’t considered. The temptation to believe that a great novel will appeal to everyone is a conceit. Agents are looking for a reason to skip on to the next query letter. If you send them something in a genre that they are not interested in, or a story idea that they have already said no to ten times, or a page with a misspelled word, you’re done. You won’t even be considered.

Go forth, writers, and write. Do not be afraid to write some more. If you (and I) truly have what it takes, then we will get there when the time is right, because they are looking for the right tool to do their job, too. All we have to do is keep sharpening it until the time comes that it is discovered.