Querying

This is the hard part.

Querying is what authors must do to find a literary agent. It starts with a query letter, a one-page sell sheet meant to entice an agent to request more. Also included in the package is a synopsis (with spoilers) and a writing sample (often 5 to 10 pages). Out it goes via email. Some agents respond immediately, asking for the manuscript. Most take several weeks to reply, if they reply at all. A no means no, of course, but so does a non-response (or ghosting). It’s not only a period of rejection for writers – and lots of it – but it’s also when the emphasis shifts from writing, from creating to selling. The contemporary writer must do both.

And yet it’s the writing that makes us who we are. I started writing my first novel more than 30 years ago. Back then, before the internet and way before smart phones and social media, writers did the writing and publishers did the rest. It was the publisher that promoted the book, sent the writer on a book tour, and stocked the shelves of bookstores all over the country with her latest novel. Whenever I tell myself that I was born too late, this is one of the reasons why! Because it’s the writing not the selling that pulled me into this line of work.

Work it is. There are some writers who proclaim that, “I was just the vehicle. The book wrote itself!” This is not my experience. My first draft is a bit of a free for all, mostly because I don’t yet know all my characters, and I never know the ending. It can be fun, kind of like any undisciplined activity – think downhill skiing on an empty slope. But the wildness makes the second draft a chore. Sure, there are moments of brightness, when I solve a puzzle or write a conversation between characters that rings true. Still, it’s relentless: the revisions, the second-guessing, the what-ifs, the editing. And yet, writing is work I understand.

Selling is different. Writers are told to not “write to the market,” but we cannot ignore the market or what’s trending in publishing. Publishers are especially interested in debut authors, partly because they’re a fresh face and have no sales record; celebrities/big names with active social media platforms; young voices; and those who have (wrongly) been denied a shot at publishing in the past. Because I do not fit into any of these categories, it’s an especially tough time for me to publish.

The rejection doesn’t get any easier with experience. Even though I have paper and electronic files bulging with letters and emails from agents, it still hurts every time. I think this is partly because I’m an optimist, in spite of all the evidence that routinely extinguishes this glimmer of hope. And yet, like a lot of writers I know, I’m insecure about my work. The rejection is part of it. Another part is remuneration. Somewhere around two percent of novelists can actually live on what they earn from writing. In America, money equals success. Is it possible to feel successful without the cash?

And so I query – no longer expecting to make it rich. Instead, as a storyteller, I want someone other than myself in the audience. I want to discuss my novel with book groups. I want to present my themes and characters to readers gathered in a library. I love to hear from someone who lives far away the reason why my novel means something. I want to be heard.

How are you heard? Is it though conversation with family and friends? Is it through the work you do? Tell me your story.

Recommendation: Think about being a good listener to someone who needs to be heard.