Tag Archive for 'submissions'

Phrasing a First Impression

When you’re submitting a query to an agent or a publisher, you already know that making a good first impression is key. You already know to address the query to the person you’re mailing, if you know their identity, and to leave things neutral but business-polite if you don’t.

A “Dear Submissions Editor” will make a better impression than an incorrect name or gender address. Personally, getting a “Dear Sir” query won’t automatically send someone’s letter to my trash folder, but it’ll set me on edge. Especially if it’s from someone who got my submissions address from some avenue where they could have, with one extra click, easily determined my name and/or gender (and learned that I’m not a sir!). Even worse, a letter addressed to another editor at another publisher, showing me that an author is sending out a big batch of submissions and forgetting to update the name field on the form letter.

The name field isn’t the only one you need to update. You need to request a result appropriate to the venue you’re querying. Remember that agents represent and publishers publish. It sounds obvious, but as a submissions editor, I receive a lot of queries “seeking representation” or “requesting review.” I don’t represent novels, and… review? Does that mean you want me to look it over, or that you want me to write you a review? Again, I’ve never trashed a query just for this — the queries that show this degree of inattention to detail usually have other problems as well — but it makes a poor impression and it’s a simple matter to check for it before you send out your letter.

Just as important as a proper, businesslike address and a request for the appropriate sort of result: the tone you set when you ask someone to look at your manuscript. Remember that you’re submitting to people who see lots and lots of potential books cross their desks. With the current state of our market and publishers feeling the strain of the economy, it’s a good bet that they’re not hurting for potential books. Especially if your manuscript is unsolicited, you’re asking the favor of a very busy person’s time and attention; they’re not asking for the favor of publishing your book. It’s important to keep in mind, and it’s important to reflect in your tone.

Compare “I am seeking a publisher for my novel” with “I would like to submit my novel for consideration.”

The former makes it sound like you’re auditioning publishing houses, testing them to see if they’ll be an adequate fit for your needs. Perhaps you’ll do them a favor and let them have a glimpse of your genius. My gut response: You’re seeking a publisher? Good for you. Hope you find one. Next!

Apply some humility and try the second approach. You’re requesting a few minutes of a busy person’s time. By asking them to consider you, you show a much more polite acknowledgement of that time than if you inform them that you’re considering them. Unless you have multiple offers pouring in, the decision isn’t yours to make. It’s theirs. That’s not to say you should bow and scrape, either. Melodrama usually won’t make a favorable impression. Just remember which way the power dynamic is flowing, and be respectful in your request for a publisher or an agent’s time.

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Slush Rush Wrap-up

Initial responses have now been sent on all the queries I received during the Dragon Moon Press open submissions period. If you have not received either a rejection or a request for a full manuscript, I did not receive your query. Make sure you check the address posted in the submission guidelines and try again.

For a relatively-unadvertised submission period during a month that’s usually hectic for everyone, the volume was encouraging without being overwhelming. It was a great experience and I’ll definitely be doing it again.

    The useful stat breakdowns:

Full manuscripts were requested on just under 10% of submissions. Out of that 10%, I am making an offer to one (1) so far. (Yes, that one knows who they are.) I have not yet received or read all requested fulls.

About 25% of submissions did not comply with the posted submission guidelines, with deviations including (in order of frequency): submitting to the wrong address, lack of synopsis, lack of title (oops!), lack of sample pages and use of attachments.

No submissions were rejected for non-compliance. That is to say, I didn’t receive any queries that would have been accepted had they followed the guidelines more closely; the submissions that did not follow the guidelines had other issues which made them unsuitable.

    Reasons for rejection, in descending order of frequency:

1. The writing simply wasn’t good enough – Mediocre writing or storytelling, wooden and uncompelling characters; consistently poor grammar and sentence structure, etc. Just not at a publishable level.

2. Major plot flaws too deep to change – The premise was deeply flawed, too predictable or overused without offering anything new or notable, wasn’t compelling, or went in a direction that I didn’t think worked.

3. Too slow to get started, or so heavy-handed at setting up a plot that it all just felt contrived and sloppy – These submissions had fifteen pages to get me hooked and make me care. If nothing happened in those first fifteen, I wasn’t interested enough to keep going, and a customer wouldn’t keep reading, either. There’s some overlap here with #1, but sometimes the story can still be flat and not go anywhere even if the quality of the writing is good.

4. Too similar to something already published. OR, used characters or worlds copyrighted or licensed to someone other than the author, or otherwise contained inherent rights issues – Don’t try to get your fanfic published, kids, unless you’re trying to get it published by whatever company officially licenses it.

5. Not a fit. Non-fiction, true crime, gratuitous torture, sexual torture, sexual slavery and gore, mainstream fiction, spy thrillers, mysteries, and bodice rippers.

6. Good, but not quite there yet. Show me the author’s next one.

    The not-so-useful stat breakdowns:

(Trends that had no bearing on acceptance decisions, but are interesting to note)

* Genre breakdown:

    54% fantasy / dark fantasy
    26% urban fantasy
    15% science fiction / speculative fiction
    5% outside DMP’s range (non-fic, etc.)

* Gender breakdown: 40% female authors, 60% male.

* Manuscripts utilizing real historical figures as main or important characters: 5

* Manuscripts previously released as podcast fiction: 4

* Manuscripts that compared themselves to Twilight: 3

* Demons and angels were more popular than vampires by a margin of 4:1

* Manuscripts featuring gender-swapping or other body-swapping: 2

* Abrasive or insulting queries: 2

* Manuscripts with prologues: 20%

* Manuscripts submitted in languages other than English: 1

* Countries represented: 10 — a very respectable showing!

Thanks for participating, everyone, and keep writing.

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Query Critiques

An excellent manuscript will outshine a not-so-great query letter, but your query is still your first chance to make a good impression so it should be as polished and compelling as it can be.

I’ve offered a lot of advice on querying on this blog, and will continue to do so. Demonstration is a helpful means of education too, so I had thought about writing up a sample query letter that does all of the things I recommend and none of the things I warn against. Instead, I’m going to direct you to two other sites with examples that I think are very clear and helpful.

Editor Cheryl Klein annotates a query letter that worked for her, highlighting all the bits that made her happy.

Now, to see the process that gets a query to that sweet spot, head over to Ulysses, who won a contest to have his query critiqued by The Rejectionist. This is also a great peek into how the person reading your query letter thinks. Highly recommended.

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Urban Fantasy, Podcasting, and Rhetorical Questions

…and more!

Kimi Alexandre of the urban fantasy Tale Chasing podcast put up a great interview with Laurie McLean, an agent with Larsen-Pomada Literary Agents.

Kimi asks some great questions, and Laurie shares a wealth of knowledge on a range of topics, including the definitions of urban fantasy and its sub-genres, how the bestseller lists really work, how and why podcasting affects your chances with traditional publishers, and what she does and doesn’t like to see in a submission from a prospective client.

Go here to give it a listen!

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Call For Submissions

It’s time for an experiment.

Dragon Moon Press will be opening its virtual doors for submissions for the month of December, 2009.

WHAT WE WANT: Completed 80,000-100,000 word novels in the following genres: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Gentle Horror, in any flavor or variety.

WHAT WE DON’T WANT: Children’s, middle grade, YA, nonfiction, biography, short stories, or the NaNoWriMo novel you just completed (send it NEXT YEAR, once it’s been edited!).

WHAT TO SEND: A query letter as the body of your email (with the usual query letter features: your contact info, genre, word count, a short 1 – 3 paragraph synopsis and relevant credits), followed by the first fifteen pages, also in the body of the email.

This is a departure from our regular submissions guidelines, and it’s intended to help me deal with the increased volume of submissions. DO NOT SEND ATTACHMENTS. Unless we specifically request an attachment from you, attachments will not be opened and your mail will be deleted.

Please do not include a bio if it’s not relevant, and please do not include a long synopsis. I just want to see what the story’s about, presented briefly and compellingly. Long chapter-by-chapter, point by point summaries will not be read.

FORMAT: Please leave an extra space between paragraphs and do not use special fonts or special formatting. Readability is my priority, and I will be grateful if it is your priority, too.

WHERE TO SEND IT: Address your email to DMPSubmissions @ gmail . com (without the spaces, of course), with “OPEN SUBMISSION: [Book Title]” as your subject.

WHEN TO SEND IT: Between December 1 and December 31, 2009. Not before, not after. Submissions are open for one month only. After that, we will return to our closed, solicited submissions policy.

WHEN TO EXPECT A RESPONSE: Please expect a response within 4-6 months. If your book sells elsewhere within that time, congratulations! Please drop us a line and let us know to remove it from consideration. Be aware that we have a full slate of great books for 2010, so any submissions received will be in consideration for 2011 or beyond.

QUESTIONS: Will be addressed between now and December 1. Please leave questions in the comments for this post.

The recent archives on this blog are full of advice regarding submissions and writing query letters. Please take the time to browse through. I am going to be handling these submissions personally, and any insight into the personal preferences of the submissions editor to whom you’re submitting is valuable insight.

But don’t just take my word for it, either. There are many excellent posts around the internet on the subject. Listen to Jeff Vandermeer about “what editors want”, listen to The Rejectionist about “what editors don’t want”, and listen to Kit Whitfield about “what editors mean” — (a great post that takes the sort of subtle dating analogies I used in “Dealing with Rejection” to a whole new level!).

Good luck! I’ll be posting progress through the month of December. If this works out well and I survive, I might just try it again next year!

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Query Letters: What Not to Do

Last week I wrote about query letters, a topic near and dear to every writer’s heart… and often a source of much anxiety. Monday’s post was about the preparation, Thursday’s was on the actual components of a query, and today I’ll follow up with the little details.

Because queries are such a source of anxiety, people tend to overanalyze the guidelines and read too far between the lines. You’re sending something very important out into the ether, getting little to no feedback on it, and it’s hard to know what you’ve done right and where you might have gone wrong.

As I’ve said before, common sense will usually rule the day. Keep a pleasant, professional tone, include all the important things, and you’ll be fine. The gray areas are where people tend to get stuck; the optional things that you hear about but aren’t sure if you should do.

Remember that this is just one editor’s opinion. I don’t speak for every editor, publisher or agent out there. But maybe one editor’s opinion, explained plainly, will help to give you a sense of the editor/agent perspective.

Don’t try to impress me.

You’ll have heard this one before, I’m sure. Lots of people give this advice, but very few of them tell you what it means.

Notice that I said “Don’t try to impress me,” not “Don’t impress me.” There’s a big difference there. Of course I want to be impressed. We all want to be impressed. The key is that we want to be impressed by your story. We won’t be impressed by anything else.

What this doesn’t mean: Write a bland pitch and a synopsis that’s just a clinical outline of events.

What it does mean: Write an exciting, vibrant pitch and synopsis, but don’t include any gimmicks with it.

Please don’t:

• treat your query like a sixth-grade book report — don’t dress up as your main character (by querying from a fictional first-person POV). Don’t use fancy dialect or otherwise “act” your query. Let your story speak for itself. You can make it plenty interesting without dressing it up in fancy clothes.

• use visual formatting effects to stand out: perfumed pink paper or glittery effects or ornate fonts. All it does is make a query difficult (or in some cases, painful) to read.

• go out of your way to format at all. All that work is going to go away when the publisher does their own layout, anyway.

• include gifts. If someone doesn’t like your manuscript, a bribe won’t change their mind. It doesn’t matter whether it’s creepy, expensive, or matched to the theme of your manuscript.

• make threats, even veiled or playful ones, about what will happen to us, our family, or the fate of civilization if we don’t accept your manuscript.

• submit to a personal address instead of the official submissions address, thinking it’s a shortcut or it’ll get you more attention. We have official channels for a reason. Going outside them is a great way to fall unlabeled through the cracks, or to creep someone out and make a bad impression.

• overhype. If you try to set our expectations too high, you have nowhere to go but down. Don’t tell us what a blockbuster hit the movie version will be, or how many awards it will win. Don’t tell us we’ll need to do a 100,000 print run.

• tell us who would play your main characters in the movie. Seriously, don’t. First, because I think it’s cheating. I think it’s seeding your reader’s imagination with a preconceived picture, and it is often used to cover for the fact that the characters aren’t fleshed out well enough in the writing to create that picture on their own. Second, because it makes it sound as though you’re already thinking toward film instead of concentrating on your print product… you know, the one you’re trying to sell me on. I’m not buying a movie, and I’m especially not buying a movie that relies upon a very specific Hollywood A-list cast that you’re probably extremely unlikely to get. Bonus “no” points for posthumous casting.

Contested Territory

Opinion varies on whether you should compare your writing to other authors’ styles in your query. Personally, I’m against it. This is your time to show us your voice and how you’re unique, not how you’re the same as someone else. There’s a place for that sort of comparison and it’s very effective when used properly… but in my opinion, that place is on the book cover and the marketing promo, not in the query.

Opinion also varies on the use of rhetorical questions in a pitch or synopsis. Personally, I’m completely neutral on the matter, but I know that there are agents and editors who hate them. In fact, there are enough agents and editors who hate them that you’re probably safer avoiding them.

Others don’t mind it, but personally, I don’t like to see the sentence that starts with, “My manuscript would be a good fit for you because…” In my perspective, if you tell me the genre and the wordcount and give me your brief pitch, I’ll know whether your manuscript fits my needs or not.

Low-maintenance isn’t the same as boring!

You want to come across as low-maintenance, adaptable and easy to work with. Showing that you’ve read the guidelines and formatted your submission in accordance is a large part of that. Taking a sane tone of voice is another. The less you say, sometimes, the more sane and easygoing you will appear.

The query letter isn’t the place to make demands about contract terms. Hook someone on your writing and you’ll be in a much stronger position to negotiate. Don’t come off as high-maintenance, pushy and demanding before you’ve even said hello.

It also isn’t the place to show paranoia or distrust for the publishing process. A paranoid author who password-locks a submitted file or insists on only sending it hardcopy and registered, or otherwise expresses concern over it potentially falling into the wrong hands or being used for unscrupulous purposes, is very unlikely to be offered a book deal. Publishing is a profession and publishers are professionals. If you can’t trust us to look at your work without stealing it, you’re not going to get very far. Honestly, most of what we see isn’t worth keeping. The work that is worth keeping, doesn’t get stolen. It gets signed.

Control Freaks Beware

There is a certain amount of editorial control that you give up when you sign with a publisher. The formatting and layout will be up to the person whose job it is to do those things. You probably won’t have a say in much of any of that, down to what font they use and what they use to separate the chapter breaks. It’s best to be accepting of that up front, or at least to seem accepting of that.

Down the road, maybe you can make suggestions or requests. They may be considered and incorporated. They may be considered and then later discarded. Either way, the query is not the time. The more conditions you place on your work right out of the gate, the more you come across as difficult to work with. When you query, all that matters is the text. Sell us on your story. The rest comes later.

The art question

Speaking of editorial control, I’m often asked whether art should be submitted with a query. The answer to that is a resounding no. To put it in perspective for you, even authors who write childrens’ picture books don’t usually collaborate with an artist. They write the script, and an artist is paired with them later to illustrate the words.

When you’re working with a large publisher, they will have an art director and an art department in-house. These are people who specialize in knowing what sort of art makes a good cover image and sells a book. You might be able to make a recommendation to them, but providing your own art up front or insisting on working with a particular artist will probably work against you. Even if the art is good, it may not be the sort of thing that works well on a book cover. If the art isn’t so good, it may color perception of the quality of your manuscript. Again, there’s no harm in trying to suggest or request a particular artist at the appropriate point in the process, but the query isn’t the time or place.

Don’t get impatient with the process

Publishing always seems glacially slow from the outside, and I can sympathize that the time from when you send off your baby to when you hear back from someone can feel endless. Publishers are busy, busy people, and it’s an industry that requires a lot of lead time to get a book ready for print. You have to realize and accept that you’re just one tree in a publisher’s large forest. You will be tended to, but in their time, when your slot comes up and your priority rises to the top.

From a personal perspective, if I’m doing thorough edits on a 300-page book, and industry standard pace is 5-10pgs/hour, and it’s not my only project, that’s going to take some time. If you don’t hear from me, it doesn’t mean I’m not working. It probably means I am.

How long before you can send a followup? Check the submissions guidelines for a publisher. They’ll often tell you how long they take to respond. Give them another [unit] or two beyond that. If they say three days, give them four or five before you email politely. If they say weeks, or months, likewise. Things come up, emergencies happen, and keeping the books on schedule that are already slotted for production is a higher priority than going through the ones that aren’t signed yet.

Be polite in your query, not demanding or passive-aggressive. There’s no way someone can answer “Have you looked at it yet?” to tell you what you want to hear. If they’d looked at it yet, they’d have told you. Compare:

“I’m writing to follow up on my manuscript, [title], which I sent to you on [date]. It was a pleasure to meet you at [some conference]. Thank you again for accepting my query and I look forward to your response.”

That’s about as non-aggressive and pleasant as you can get. It doesn’t ask someone if they’ve read it, when they’ll read it, or when they can expect to hear back, it just politely reminds them that they have it and how long they’ve had it. It doesn’t get passive-aggressive and say “I know you’re really busy and you probably haven’t had time and I’m really sorry to bother you…”, it’s just straightforward, pleasant, and non-demanding.

When you do get signed, by the way, that glacial pace doesn’t change. You’ll feel like it’s taking ages to get edits back, or to get a cover back from the art director, or that your book is in the can for six months doing nothing while it waits for its slot in the production schedule. Well… it will be. These people are juggling a lot of books and they’ll get to each stage of yours when each stage comes due. Get used to it, relax, and spend that time writing your next masterpiece.

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Components of a Query Letter

This week, I’m talking about query letters. Not a coincidence, since Michell Plested posted our great discussion on query letters and submissions on Monday. Please go and take a listen if you have a chance.

First, before I get into the actual parts of the query letter, a note on formatting guidelines.

Formatting guidelines exist to help editors keep from going blind. They streamline the process, and make things easy on the eyes for people who are sitting and reading for 8, 12, or 16 hours a day, or more. They exist so that your manuscript can be handled in the most convenient and efficient way by a particular handler, and forwarded on most conveniently within that organization, and that’s why they vary from place to place.

Specific formatting rules (like what to put in the subject line or on the outside of the envelope, for instance) may also exist partly to show a particular place whether you’ve read their particular guidelines or not.

You should definitely follow the guidelines as they’re presented to you, even if it means reformatting every time you submit someplace new. Helping editors not go blind is important, and showing someone you want to work with that you’re able to follow instructions is also important.

However, and I know this is easier said than done, you should not stress yourself out about it. Being one point short of perfect compliance, unless it’s a major point like forgetting to include contact information, is probably not going to hurt your chances. A good manuscript isn’t likely to be disqualified over a minor problem on the query letter checklist. As long as you’re professional and use common sense, you’ll probably be fine.

That professional tone is important too. The query letter is the cover letter to your resume. In addition to getting people interested in your manuscript, it’s also your chance to prove that you’re not high-maintenance, pushy, delusional, or insane. You think I’m kidding, but I’m not.

If no guidelines exist on a particular point, like font size or number of spaces after a period, don’t sweat it. It means that it doesn’t matter to that particular editor.

Don’t try to make it gimmicky, shiny or eye-catching. Focus on making a pitch and a manuscript that can stand out from the rest even in the same boring typeface and format. You’ll get more positive attention from following the rules than from breaking them. When I see a nicely formatted, low-maintenance manuscript, I breathe a sigh of relief.

So. That said, on to the letter itself.

Your query letter is, for all useful purposes, just like the cover letter you send with your resume when you’re applying for a job. It should be professional, it should be courteous, and it should contain the standard pieces of information that the person reading it is going to be looking for, with no fancy tricks, fillers, or unnecessary information.

Essential information

The first things I look for in a query letter:

• Title
• Word count
• Genre
• Name and contact information

Before you present what your story is about, I want to know how many words I’m getting and what genre to expect. I don’t want to have to wade through multiple chapters — or even multiple paragraphs — to first discover if the manuscript is even going to be a fit. Don’t bother trying to tell me why it’s a good fit. You don’t need to. Show me the word count and the genre, tell me what it’s about, and I’ll be able to tell for myself.

I also don’t want to have to dig for your name and e-mail address. Sometimes things get forwarded and, for whatever reason, the original “sent by” address in the header doesn’t make it along for the ride. Put it in the body of the mail, just to be safe.

Also, please, PLEASE make sure that the contact information you give, WORKS. Even worse than a rejection: when a publisher is interested in seeing more and can’t get in touch with you.

Don’t just send a link to your website and tell me to check out your work there — or, worse, tell me that I have to subscribe to your website in order to see it. Show that you’re serious enough to take the time to write a real query.

Phrases I never want to see in a query

“I know this isn’t the sort of thing you publish, but…”
and
“I know you’re closed to unsolicited submissions, but…”

I’m going to do a separate post next Monday that touches on what not to do, but this one deserves a special mention right up front. There’s nothing professional about contacting a stranger with the expectation that they’ll bend their rules for you. Sending your query along anyway is one thing. Pointing out in your query that you know you shouldn’t be sending your query is another. You may intend it as an apology to smooth your way, but what you’re actually saying is, “Hi. I read your policies, and then I knowingly and willfully disregarded them. Don’t you want to work with me now?” That’s probably not the kind of first impression you want to make.

Speaking of making a good first impression…

Bad spelling / grammar / punctuation in a query is a BIG turn-off. Everyone makes a typo now and then, especially when they’re nervous. But if the errors are glaring enough that it’s clear to me that you couldn’t take the time to spellcheck and read over your cover letter:

• you’re not serious enough about writing to be published. Or
• you just don’t see that those errors are even there, in which case I can predict that your manuscript will be in the same state. That’s a lot of extra work for me.

The parts of the query letter

A professional, courteous greeting. There may be bonus points for addressing it to the right person, but leaving it neutral is always better than getting it wrong.

An intro paragraph with those essential elements I mentioned above, and your elevator pitch. (More on the elevator pitch, below.)

A paragraph with a longer synopsis. A synopsis is always in third person, present tense, regardless of the perspective of the actual manuscript. It should be just as gripping as the smaller pitch, but this time give a slightly broader picture. And include the ending. Part of knowing whether you have a good, solid story is knowing how you resolve it. Don’t hold the ending ‘hostage’ and make a publisher request your manuscript to see how it all works out. They won’t. Synopsis length and depth is another topic all its own, but it’s handled very well by author Anne Mini over several in-depth posts on her blog. An especially useful post might be the one on constructing 1- 3- and 5-page synopses, but you’ll want to look at the whole series.

A brief paragraph about your published or otherwise relevant credits, if appropriate. If not, just leave it out. If you’re published, give us titles and publishers. You don’t need to mention if you’ve never been published before. You don’t need to mention if you like to read, what your hobbies are, or what your educational and professional background is, unless they’re relevant to the manuscript you’re submitting. If you’ve got a computer science degree and you’re working in IT and your manuscript is high fantasy, it’s not relevant. If you’ve been in the Navy and you live full-time on a boat and your manuscript is a nautical adventure, then that background is relevant. If you’ve been to writing workshops, that may be more relevant than your college degree. A degree in English does not a fiction writer make; it won’t impress anyone, by itself. Solid writing and connections to bestselling authors who might write cover blurbs for you… that’s not going to be enough to get you a contract, but it’s very good for a publisher to know.

A professional closing with your name and contact information.

And that’s it.

Elevator pitch?

An elevator pitch stems from the idea that you have only the length of time that someone’s on an elevator with you, to get them hooked and wanting more. The sort of pitch you’d use as a back cover blurb: it should be a couple of brief, concise sentences that capture the central conflict and raise questions that I want to read the answers to. Think of it as the five second movie trailer.

Just because you’re being professional, don’t think you have to be bland and boring on this. The whole point of this letter, from your perspective, is these few sentences. It’s the only chance you have to hook your recipient. Make it intriguing, make it count, and don’t load it down with detail.

A well-crafted elevator pitch at a conference will hook me into requesting a submission. In a query, it’ll hook me into requesting a manuscript. Properly honed, refined and streamlined, it’s worth its weight in gold.

Hang on to this pitch. You’ll need to expand it into your back cover blurb, you’ll need to refine it into promotional material if you want your book mentioned on a website or listed in a catalog, and you’ll need it for… well, for selling copies to people you meet on elevators. Seriously. I have also seen published authors make plenty of spur-of-the-moment sales with just a backpack full of books and a solid elevator pitch.

That’s it?

That’s it… Except that it’s not.

Paring it down to the basic components like this leaves a lot of questions unanswered. Questions like, “What do publishers mean when they say ‘Don’t try to impress us’?” and “How long should I wait before sending a polite follow-up?” are important, too.

Stay tuned: I’ll address those questions and more, on Monday.

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Querying and Submissions

This week, Michell Plested and I met up for another interview over on Get Published, talking this time about query letters and the submissions process.

It’s a great interview, even though I’m a little sniffly in places. We aimed to cover a lot of the questions that writers have when they start to send out their work. Talking with author friends and clients, I’ve realized that while there are some standard things that every publisher/editor/agent says on the issue, writers may not necessarily know what we mean by them, so I try to explain why we say what we say, and what we mean by what we say, in simple and friendly terms.

Sending out queries is such a source of stress for writers because you don’t really know what someone wants or whether you’re hitting the mark. It can be a very long time before you get a response, and even when you do, it may not include any feedback on whether you’re doing things right.

Today I’m going to post about the groundwork and the preparation. In Thursday’s post I’ll go more specifically into the features of a query letter and what I look for. Keep in mind that all editors, agents and publishers are different and we all have different preferences, but it all comes down to promoting yourself professionally and using some common sense. If you do that, you’ll have the core of it down. The rest is just details.

Decide who to query.

The first step to sending out a query is deciding where to send it. Do your research. Whether you’re submitting to agents or publishers, everyone has their specific genre or style preference. Do your homework and only send to people and places that express interest in the sorts of things you write.

How do you submit something that’s outside a particular publisher’s realm?

You don’t. Dragon Moon Press, for example, publishes fantasy, science fiction and gentle horror; adult or “YA friendly”. They’re not going to publish your nonfiction, your biography, your children’s picture book, or your modern-day urban romance, no matter what you say in your letter. Even if it’s good. It’s just not the sort of book they print. You can put different slants on your paranormal mystery thriller to pitch it to a fantasy press or a mystery press, but don’t bend the truth so far on your genre to get it onto someone’s desk that you misrepresent your story. You’re just wasting your time, and theirs.

Send your query to the right place.

Once you’ve chosen a target, do more research and make sure you’re sending your query to the proper address. My recent post on Proper Channels covers this in more depth, but to sum it up: use the front-door, approved channels when submitting. Sending a manuscript to an alternate address, someone’s home address, etc, may feel like a shortcut to bring it to their attention, but it only makes your submission more likely to fall through the cracks. A system is in place for a reason. Show your respect for the people you want to work for by working with their system, not against it.

Solicited vs unsolicited manuscripts

A solicited submission means a publisher invites you to submit. An unsolicited submission means you send a query letter with no prior negotiation.

If a publisher is closed to unsolicited submissions, there’s a reason. Either the schedule is full and there’s no room to accept more books, or there’s no one available to read submissions, or the reading list might be backed up, or maybe there are enough solicited submissions coming in to keep them busy. “I’ll be the exception to the rule and beat all the odds!” is great in fairy tales and Broadway musicals, but in reality it rarely works that way.

Unsolicited submissions may be fairly low on the priority scale, even if they’re welcome. It’s like going to a busy restaurant without a reservation. People who are expected are given higher priority, and everyone else is seated as time and space permits.

How do you get your submission solicited?

Getting an agent is a good way to get that reservation, but it’s not the only way. Networking and legwork can also get you introduced to the right connections.

You can ask an author friend of yours to mention your manuscript to their agent or publisher.

You can approach an editor or a publisher at a convention — if they’re there, they’re probably there to network just like you are, and they might be receptive to hearing a pitch. Just remember that this person’s time is precious and may already be spoken for. Keep aware of their body language and if they start edging toward the door, let them go. Don’t corner them to pitch to them in the restroom or when they’re obviously busy, and don’t take it personally if they don’t have the time.

In business, as in your personal life, it’s a bad idea to make an editor (or anyone) feel like you’re just using them for their connections or for what they can do for you. Even online, you can start making insightful comments on someone’s blog and draw positive attention that way, or friend them on twitter or facebook and do the same.

Keep in mind that a contact or a personal friendship will only give you the opportunity, nothing more. Ultimately, your manuscript will still have to stand on its own merits.

Even if someone directly asks you to send them your manuscript, still send a query letter with it. It shows that you’re professional, it helps them remember why they asked you for the manuscript, and it provides all your info and credentials in a single place — especially helpful if you’re sending things to an agent who’s going to want to hype you to publishers.

One final note: it is never a bad idea to hire an editor to make sure that your manuscript is as clean and polished as it can be before you start submitting it to publishers and agents. But keep in mind that your editor’s responsibility is editing the book, not being its agent. That doesn’t mean a freelance editor deliberately avoids talking up their projects, but it isn’t what you’re hiring them for and it shouldn’t be assumed that they’re obligated to throw it in as a service. That sort of word of mouth can happen, but it is fairly rare and it shouldn’t be expected. An editor is not an agent or a publicist, and you’re not hiring them to do an agent’s or a publicist’s job.

Ready to go?

Once you’ve got a manuscript to submit and people to query, you’re ready
to send your letter. On Thursday, I’ll discuss the essential parts of the query letter, what I do and don’t like to see, and what editors really mean when they say “don’t try to impress me.”

If you can’t wait that long, you can always go and listen to my discussion with Michell Plested on the subject.

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Dealing with Rejection

We all have a deep-seated need for closure in our lives. We like to know why people have made the choices that they’ve made, whether we’ve done something wrong to bring about that choice or whether acting differently could have somehow changed the outcome.

In the absence of answers, we tend to analyze situations and come up with answers of our own. We rationalize events around us all the time, to the point that we don’t even notice ourselves doing it. If traffic is slow, we tell ourselves that there’s road construction up ahead, or maybe there’s been an accident. If someone’s late for an appointment, or doesn’t answer the phone, we come to an internally satisfying conclusion about what might be occupying them.

In the absence of an explanation, we also tend to try to read too closely between the lines of a form rejection letter. No reason is given, but there must have been a reason, so we rationalize and analyze and come up with our own.

I acknowledge that, I empathize with it, and I send out form rejections anyway. I stand by it.

1. It’s kinder to dump someone outright than to lead them on.
Do form letters deprive writers of the constructive criticism that might make their work better? Maybe. But if I’ve already decided I don’t want it and that nothing you can change will make me want it, I’m not the one you’ve got to make it better for. If it’s close enough that I’d accept it if a couple things were different, I will tell you. But I won’t suggest changes that might make it less suitable for publication somewhere else, when I don’t plan to take it on no matter what you do with it.

2. Form letters discourage further conversation.
It’s a simple one-shot business transaction. You send me one query, I send you one response. If that response is no, that’s all you get, and I don’t want to give out any signals that suggest my decision might be open to negotiation. It isn’t. I don’t want to invite discussion, I won’t be coerced into giving a free critique, and I don’t have time to listen to a rebuttal against my decision. It won’t change my mind, it’ll just make you look unprofessional. You need to move on, and you need to let me move on, too. You’ll earn more respect by respecting my decision. And it’s not just me: Colleen Lindsay’s post What Not to Do When You Get a Rejection speaks in more depth about the kinds of follow-up correspondence agents and editors don’t like to see.

3. Don’t assume it’s you.
Some people respond to rejection in a very internal way. They think they must have done something wrong, and they analyze every minute nuance of their actions trying to figure out how they could have done better or changed the outcome. If you’re a writer, you need to develop a thicker skin than that. If your work is polished and well-written and interesting and engaging, it could just be that it’s not a fit for a particular publisher, that it’s not directed toward their market, or that it’s directed too well toward their market and they already have too many similar submissions in their list. Don’t beat yourself up over your query letter, either. If it’s well-written and professional and portrays you as sane and serious about getting published, it was probably fine. Get a critique group to look at your manuscript and your query, get opinions from other writers and from editors. If general consensus is that your manuscript is at a publishable stage and appropriate for submission, just accept that it wasn’t that publisher’s “type,” and move on.

4. Don’t assume it’s NOT you.
On the opposite end of the continuum, we find people who refuse to take responsibility for anything. The world is out to get them, and it’s everyone’s fault but theirs. Don’t go too far in this direction and assume your manuscript is perfect. Yes, it may have just been that your golden triangle didn’t fit in a publisher’s square hole, but it may also be that you’ve submitted a lump of unpolished tin. I see a lot of manuscripts that just aren’t fit to be published, with horrible grammar and spelling, or with premises and protagonists that make me weep. A certain amount of confidence is a good thing, but don’t ever become so overconfident that you refuse to consider that your manuscript might not be ready for the big leagues. Not all manuscripts are perfect; in fact, few of them are. If they were, I wouldn’t have a job.

5. Whether it’s about you or not, it’s not personal either way.
You’ve probably worked on your manuscript for a very long time. It’s your baby. It’s part of who you are. It’s your inner daydreams and emotions and hopes and fears written down for the whole world to see. You’ve never felt so free, or so exposed, as when you hand that little piece of your soul over for someone else’s approval or enjoyment. But to them, it’s just a book. It’s one of many books. Millions of books. No one who declines your manuscript is passing judgment on you or your worth as a person. They’re simply saying that this particular offering isn’t appropriate for them at this time. You’ve probably heard a thousand times about all the rejection letters any writer gets. I understand that “Don’t take it personally” is easier said than done. But really, I mean it. I make no value judgment on you as a person if I reject your manuscript. I don’t even make a value judgment on your writing. I just don’t want to publish it. It really is as impersonal as that. And that’s part of the value of a form rejection, believe it or not. As Rachelle Gardner points out, “the more detailed I get about the rejection, the more personal that rejection becomes.”

6. It’s who you know… but only to a point.
Nothing fills me with more anxiety than sending my own submissions out to face rejection. But, second to that, nothing fills me with more anxiety than reading a submission from a friend or colleague if I’m unfamiliar with their writing. Knowing someone in the industry might get you in the door, but what happens when you’re inside is all up to you. Your manuscript still has to stand on its own merits. It’s under more pressure, even, because it’s going to reflect on the person who referred you, too. I don’t give pity dates; if I accepted something that didn’t meet my standards, it would reflect on my reputation, as well. If it turns out that I can’t take it, I’ll have to reject it all the same no matter who you are. If I do take it, you can be assured that it’s because the manuscript has earned it. I may be more likely to offer feedback and critique to a friend’s manuscript, but I’m not going to be any more likely to accept it.

7. It’s not random.
I think this is the hardest one to accept. There are reasons, even if you don’t know them, and you may never know what they are. This is where the whole mythos of the crapshoot comes from: the folklore that acceptance and rejection are based solely on the editor or agent’s mood, a toss of a coin, what they had for breakfast and the state of their morning commute. It’s easy and convenient to think that way when you’re not presented with evidence to the contrary. I understand that it gives you the closure that you need. But please give us a little credit, too. Most of us treat our submissions seriously and make careful, considered decisions. Ultimately, we want to like the submissions we get. We wish every manuscript we get could be The One. And we want to see you succeed, too, even if your manuscript isn’t right for us.

Further reading:

I’ll leave you with this, from author JA Konrath: “Remember, there’s a word for a writer who never gives up: Published.”

If you’ve got a link to another good post on the subject, please leave it in a comment!

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What not to Write

Just as important as how to write, is what to write.

In a panel at Anticipation 09 in Montreal, editor David G. Hartwell said:

“The sincere desire on the part of the writer to write the book will communicate to the reader. This is not something that is often said in public, but it is nevertheless the truth. And it is my experience that if you write what you truly wish to write, it will communicate more and better to the reader than anything else you could possibly write. Sincerity trumps everything. Even execution.”

Write the story that you want to tell.

Writing the story that you want to tell, you will always end up with a better, more passionate manuscript than if you’re writing what you think you should write, or if you’re writing what you think will sell. If your heart’s not in it, it will show.

However, the unfortunate truth is that while writing the story that you want to tell is always the place to start, it is not always enough to get you published.

Someone who attended one of my panels at Worldcon noted that there are some publishers who don’t even want to see a story written in the present tense, or the first person, no matter what it’s about.

I responded, first, that this isn’t true of all publishers. And that it’s not generally due to a dislike of first person, or present tense, it’s because these things are very hard to do well, and after you see them done badly enough, often enough, it’s almost a public service to try to dissuade others from trying. Sometimes it works for a story. When it does, it’s extremely powerful. Often times, though, it doesn’t.

When publishers say “I don’t want to see this,” what they often mean is “I don’t want to see this done badly,” or “I have seen eight hundred of this in the last month and I’m going to rip my eyes out if I see it one more time this year.” Even if you’re confident in your treatment of a particular this, do that publisher a favor and submit it elsewhere. Maybe they’ll be missing out on something great. If so, accept that it’s their choice, and just resolve to wow them next time with your that.

There are many plot ideas, story mechanics and twists that editors and publishers see so often that they feel “done to death”; and it’s not just jaded professionals — readers often feel the same way. Strange Horizons magazine has gone as far as to supply a list of Stories We’ve Seen Too Often. They’re careful to point out, “This is not a canonical list of bad stories or story cliches. This is a list of types of stories that we at SH have seen too often; it’s not intended to be a complete list of all types of bad stories, nor are all the items on the list necessarily bad.”

If the story that’s within you is on that list, or some other similar list, what do you do?

You write it anyway.

Really. I mean it.

They’re not telling you what not to write. They’re telling you what they don’t want to see.

There’s a huge difference, and it’s so important that I’ll say it again: They’re not telling you what not to write.

Don’t let current trends or the taste and preference of any one publisher, agent, or editor influence what you write. If all publishers, agents and editors had the same taste and preference, there wouldn’t be a market for so many of them.

Write what matters to you.

Write the story and the characters and the setting that are churning around in your head waiting to be set down. Write it with passion and enthusiasm, and enjoy every moment of it.

Even if you never get it published, write it anyway. It will still have been an opportunity to practice your writing and hone your craft. It will free up all the other ideas inside you that have been jostling for position behind it.

Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine’s Douglas A. Van Belle offers a Totally Comprehensive and Universal List of Every Problem a Story Has Ever Had. There’s some great advice in there, a lot of stumbling points to watch out for, and I strongly recommend the list to readers. Again, Doug is quick to point out that there is at least one great story guilty of each problem on the list. Having one of these problems doesn’t guarantee a bad story; on the whole, though, they’re things you probably don’t want to do.

Evaluate your story on that level. Look at lists like the one I started last Thursday, that discuss how to add polish to your writing, and evaluate your word choices on that level.

Rewrite the story that matters to you. Give it impeccable grammar, spelling and punctuation. Make it as free of commonly-seen predictability and problems as you can, while retaining its core with integrity. It’s already something you can be proud of. Now you’re making it shine.

Now, start submitting that manuscript and move on to the next story that’s bubbling up inside you, just waiting to be told.

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