How-to on Literary Agents

I know that many of you reading this blog are writers or aspiring writers in the making. Over the last few weeks I’ve had several people ask me about how to query agents themselves regarding their own manuscripts, ranging from everything from non-fiction histories to commercial fantasy. So I figured I’d put in my two cents on the subject to give you an idea of the surprising extensiveness of the overall process of querying an agent.

Once you start asking people or reading up online, you’re going to hear a lot of differing opinions on this topic. Now, I’m not claiming to be some kind of super expert in this field. I can only offer advice on my own experiences so far.

The first question you might ask yourself is…why do I need an agent? I’m going to simplify some things here, but basically a manuscript has to go through three mega-stages in order to go from your desk to becoming an actual book at Barnes and Noble. For simplicity sake, let’s call these three mega-stages Agent, Publishing House, and Bookseller. First you need to convince an agent to sign a contract with you. The agent has the contacts to actually get your manuscript read by someone in a publishing house. Most publishing houses only accept material from literary agents they know and trust. Likewise, if a publishing house agrees to back your book they in turn can convince a bookseller (like Borders or Barnes and Noble) to carry your book on its shelves. Now there are many, many sub-stages along this route that I won’t get into here, but expect at each stage to have to do extensive rewrites, promotions, and endure a lot of humbling in the process. But don’t fret; it’s all for the better good of improving your story and brining it to people who are just dying to read your book.

Let’s start at the beginning…getting an agent. This is the stage I myself am at, and through perseverance (and rewrites) I finally have several potential agents interested. But remember, everything takes time. Agents are super busy people, and even if they decide they really like your book, they probably will still need a few months to get back to you as they have other clients, and they not only have to like your idea, they have to be able to successfully pitch it to the rest of their agency before even pitching it to a publishing house. It’s a big commitment on their part, so nothing happens overnight.

One friend asked me, can you query agents via email or snail mail? Totally. I’ve done this hundreds of times myself. The key is to really research who you’re querying (i.e. don’t send stuff for a fantasy novel to an agent who only represents romance novels). Also, polishing your query – your brief blurb about your book – really makes a difference. Now truthfully, you have to remember that the odds are always against you. In fact, through email or snail mail queries I’ve only ever had a handful of agents reply positively. Which means hundreds of rejections letters along the way. But hey, what doesn’t kill you just makes you stronger.

What really helped me was actually attending writer’s conferences. This enabled me to meet literary agents face to face, and to develop a better pitch for my story. As a result I ended up with about six different literary agents interested in my work, several of whom have since asked to see my entire manuscript. In the meantime, I’m always writing. I continue to work with my professional editor to polish my manuscript, The Long Defeat, I also work on other stories, and of course this blog. It’s a lot like a second job…except you don’t get paid. So if you choose to take the path less traveled by, please by all means go for it, and just remember that you have to do it first and foremost because you love it. Ciao!

In Search of the Finer Things…and then some

So the weekend is over. Boo. And it’s a workday at that. Double Boo. But, fortunately, I’ve got just the remedy for those Monday blues.

Today, I’d like to put a little plug in for another blog I follow that I think deserves a moment in the spotlight for its overall awesomeness. As some of you may have noticed in the links section on the right-hand side of this page I have several other cool blogs listed, and today I’d like to offer up some praise for Stacy Grow’s “In Search of the Finer Things.” Not just a site for all forms of food lovers and cook aficionados worldwide, Stacy’s blog also brings in a real human element and inspiration to her posts about food and life itself. One part cookbook, one part philosophical, and two parts fun, “In Search of the Finer Things” appeals to pretty much anyone with a soul!

What I really like about this blog is Stacy’s ability to cut to what’s really important. A week doesn’t go by that I don’t read something on her blog that not only makes me dream of delicious food, but actually gives me some genuine insight into how to live a better, more enjoyable life. In other words, real food for thought (please forgive my sheepish use of this pun, but in this case the cliché really holds true). See for yourself what I mean by checking out her regularly updated blog posts. I’m not much of an iron chef in the kitchen myself, but I am constantly intrigued by how this remarkable blog continually keeps my interest by bringing up new ideas and notions I would have otherwise never thought of in the first place. Best of all, every time I read this blog, I can’t help coming across an article that doesn’t make me smile. And that’s something worthwhile.

Short-story Contest Winner: Pride

This week's contest winner is Brian Noce. Pulled from random from the list of followers on this blog, I have inserted Brian's name as the protagonist in this week's short-story. Continung with the theme of the seven deadly sins, this week's story features the topic of pride. Stay tuned and maybe next week you'll see your name appear as a hero...or maybe a villain. Enjoy!

Pride

Brian had hunted most of his life for the famed killer-bird of New Zealand. Now deep in the wilds, he stalked it through the brush, his chest damp with sweat. Gun cocked and ready, he raised his rifle through a tangle of ferns as he spied a furry, bipedal shape lingering beside the lagoon below. Alone in the glade, he sighted the shadowy creature grazing among the reeds.

Others had laughed at his expeditions. Hunters and ornithologists alike. It didn’t exist they said. Brian almost grinned as he peered down the sight of his barrel at the supposedly mythical killer-bird of New Zealand’s south island. Brian had only seen drawings, depicted by imaginative artists listening to second-hand tales from aboriginals. With the modern age, not so much as a blurry photograph had surfaced of one of these prehistoric flightless birds. And now he had a chance to bring back a real flesh and bone carcass.

Brian edged his way round the sedge and brambles of the forest floor, keeping at least one eye upon the murky shape of the large-beaked bird foraging beside the water. A beak thick enough to crack a man in half, Brian surmised, as the animal chomped tough bundles of swamp reeds like cud between with jaws. It seemed unaware of his presence.

Raising his rifle once more, Brian focused his sights on the monster’s thick gizzard. He wrapped a finger around the trigger, squinting one eye in the damp humid air. The bird craned its head aloft, ruffling its tail feathers and flexing its muscular legs. Brian clicked off the safety on his gun. His quarry stood only a few dozen yards away.

A trio of knee-high chicks emerged from behind the large, feathered beast. Brian stayed his finger on the live trigger, opening both eyes. He watched as the three young birds trotted about their mother’s long feet, gnawing on blades of grass and each other’s tail feathers with playful veracity. They chirped and purred with the gleeful awkwardness of newborns.

Brian shook the beads of perspiration from his head, taking aim once more. He kept his gun trained on the massive dodo-like head of the mother bird, but time and again one of the tiny underlings danced across his field of view. The lone hunter waited patiently for a clear shot, not willing to risk his one chance at his prize over a tiny chicklet. As Brian sat there the wind shifted and the mother bird reared her skull towards him, flashing a single sapphire eye intently in his direction. Despite his camouflage, Brian was certain the killer-bird knew he was near. For a moment even the trinity of baby killer-birds paused, one stopping before Brian’s poised field of fire. The hunter opened both eyes once more and stared at the family across the tiny clearing.

The mother bird turned her head and trotted out of the glade, the tall reeds and lagoon waters left trembling in her wake. One by one, her three offspring darted after her into the deep forest, where neither man nor woman ever tread. Alone in the glade, Brian lowered his rifle and stood and gazed a while before turning around and heading back towards camp.

Working with a Professional Editor

Meet my new editor! I have begun work with professional editor, Lea Beresford, who has agreed to help me polish my novel The Long Defeat. I have various literary agents interested in my novel right now, and what better way make a good impression than to have my manuscript professionally reviewed. Lea worked for the prestigious Random House Inc., and has since gone into freelance editing for herself. I got to hear her speak at this year’s San Francisco Writer’s Conference in February and found myself impressed by both her background as well as her enthusiasm for books. After meeting her in person I provided her with a sample of my Civil War novel. She not only liked it, but later agreed to sign a contract with me in order to have the entire work professionally edited.

As an editor, Lea does more than dot every “i” and cross every “t.” She definitely keeps an eye toward spelling, grammar, and all the usual elements of proofreading, but she also offers keen conceptual advice and thoroughly reads and rereads a manuscript in order to make sure that every sentence, paragraph, and page makes sense and flows properly in its own right. So far we’re about 50 pages into my story and Lea’s edits have already worked wonders for me. As an author I’m very close to the novel I’m working on, and while it provides great passion and inspiration on the page, it doesn’t necessarily make me the most objective critic. That’s where Lea comes in. She brings a fresh perspective when examining my story, and lets me know what sentences are really good and which words may need to be edited out.

One thing I’ve already learned about myself is that I love to use adjectives and adverbs in my writing. This is fine during a first draft, but generally most adverbs will slow a reader down, and as fun as adjective are, you only need so many of them per page. These are the types of things I have learned just from my first few weeks of working with Lea Beresford. You can learn more about Lea at She Writes (which by the way is a pretty cool site). For more information on my own novel and its progress along the road towards publishing checkout more here. Thanks.

Official Beginning of Spring

Blossoms, sunshine, the outdoors. Pollen, dusty closets, and allergies. This weekend kicked off the official start of the spring season, and with it the proverbial vernal resolutions known as “Spring Cleaning.” You may wonder to yourself why spring starts on one day versus another, something to do with a groundhog perhaps? Not quite. The Vernal or Spring Equinox (usually around March 20-22 annually) marks the point in the year when a day has exactly 12 hours of darkness and 12 hours of light. As spring heads towards summer the days will continue to inevitably grow longer and longer in terms of daylight hours. The groundhog it turns out doesn’t have much control one way or the other regardless of when or whether he sees his shadow or not.

So I guess somebody somewhere at some point decided this would be a good time of year to clean out all the winter junk accumulated since Christmas. I for one usually fail to feel any of the supposed thaw of my wintry procrastination and have decided to try to come up with some helpful tips (or in my case self-tricks) in order to begin that task list of spring reorganization.

They say to take it one day at a time (as though there is any other way) and to basically set yourself one task a day, the idea being that over the course of several weeks you should accomplish your goals. I’ve tried doing this with all the necessary yard work my garden will require this year. This weekend I started trimming bushes and shrubs, but after hours of labor it hardly looked like I’d done anything at all. We’ll see how this progresses in the coming weeks as spring planting time for my garden fast approaches.

Another helpful bit of wisdom some friends and family have shared with me revolves around the idea of helpers. It’s okay to ask for help, just be willing to lend someone else a hand when they need it. For instance, if you have a big project that might take you days by yourself, invite some willing helpers over one Saturday or Sunday and get it all done together. My neighbors last year did this and cooked a big barbeque for all their friends and family that came over to help them clean the house and yard. Effective, and also a community builder.

The final tip I learned actually came from something I heard from Deepak Chopra. He said that in modern society we often collect and buy far more things than we need and often feel weighed down by it all. He suggests that for every one item you purchase, receive or bring into your home; make sure that one item already within your household must go out. In other words if you get a new blender from your aunt this year, donate that old toaster in the garage. Or if you buy yourself a new pair of jeans, sell that extra table and chairs taking up space in the garage.

Obviously, all of these tasks are easier said than done, but I find that springtime can be a much more effective time for resolutions than New Years. The weather is nicer, our moods are improving, and it just feels like there’s more possibility in their air for reordering our lives for the better. Remember, you don’t have to change the world (at least not overnight), just start with yourself. One little step at a time.

So You Think You’re Lazy? Short-Story Contest

This week’s short-story contest winner is Michael Micheletti! Drawn from random, his name will be inserted as the protagonist into this week’s tale. As per usual all contestants names are drawn from a hat (based on the followers on this blog) and have their name used in my weekly short-story. All stories of course are fictional and bear no resemblance to the name of the winner involved (minor disclaimer). In continuance of my forty days of short-stories for Lent I have continued the seven deadly sins theme with a story about sloth. I recently just finished reading John Kennedy Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces, which inspired my idea for this week’s short tale. Have a great weekend, and enjoy!

Sloth

Mike left a pile Cheetos on his mother’s sofa. The television flickered blue light across his long frame, sprawled along the living room couch. A motherly voice trickled in from the other room, nasally asking him for the hundredth time if he would come with her to the cemetery. The thirty-year-old, unshaven, shaggy haired Mike failed to stir. He reached into the bag for another fistful of Cheetos. His mother called his name again while she fixed her hair in the bathroom mirror.

   “Shh!” he silenced her. “Captain Picard is on.”

   “Honey, it’s your grandfather’s funeral,” she replied, appearing in the doorway.

   Mike kept his eyes to the television set.

   “I don’t do burials,” he grumbled, munching on more Cheetos. “They’re always full of old people, and old people give me hives. Besides I couldn’t possibly go outside, I’m still sick and my immune system has yet to recover.”

   “You stubbed your toe, you didn’t catch the flu,” his mother retorted. “That’s what you get for leaving those toys laying around. Honestly, what full grown man has dolls?”

   “Those are collectors’ items,” Mike pointed a finger. “And once the market peaks on eBay my original action figures from Battlestar Galactica will be worth a small fortune.”

   “Don’t pretend you’re saving up stocks and bonds,” his mother replied, fastening her earrings. “You’d make more money with an actual job instead of loafing on your mother’s couch, eating your mother’s food, sucking up my retirement pension in the process.”

   “I tried the business world once, mother,” Mike wrinkled his nose. “I nearly stifled under all that corporate bureaucracy and red tape.”

   “You sold ice cream from a cart in the park for two weeks,” she rebutted. “Mr. Leon had to fire you for refusing to sell to Girl Scouts.”

   “They’ve already cornered the market on cookies, I wasn’t going to give those smart little hussies a monopoly on drumsticks and missiles,” Mike frowned. “The crafty urchins were busy buying snow cones and Dove bars from me for 50 cents and selling it on the black market for a dollar to their peers.”

   “They were twelve year olds,” his mother frowned.

   “They were extortionists!” Mike boomed. “Now are you going or are you determined to ruin the rest of the Farpoint episode? The Enterprise is in considerable peril.”

   His mother shook her head.

   “And to think of all your grandfather did for you,” she remarked.

   “He couldn’t remember my name half the time,” Mike replied.

   “He was old,” his mother folded her arms.

   “He was drunk,” Mike scoffed. “He used to mix brandy in my baby formula.”

   “Now, that only happened once,” she fumed. “He was very fond of you.”

   “Is that why he called me Molly all the time?” Mike said between Cheeto bites.

   “Well, with the size of your chest you do look a bit girly now,” his mother muttered.

   “Get me some fresh chips before you go, these ones taste stale,” Mike suggested.

   “Michael, I’m putting my foot down,” his mother began. “You come with me right now or God will curse you for dishonoring your own kin.”

   “I went to college and law school,” Mike smirked. “I’m educated beyond beliefs in a Santa Claus, bearded Sky-man or any other deity for that matter.”

   “You took one semester of each and never graduated,” his mother replied. “And as for the Almighty, he’s already plucking your scalp bald in retribution.”

   “Yes, but he leaves the sides,” Mike observed, running a palm along his ear.

   “Last chance, Michael,” his mother tapped her foot. “You come or so help me…”

   Mike glanced up at her shaking the empty Cheetos bag imploringly. Grumbling, his mother left the room, and prepared to depart the house. As she did so she tossed him a new bag of Lays Sour Cream and Onion before exiting the front door. Mike popped the seal with one hand while upping the volume on the remote.

   “Ka’ Pla!” he grinned in Klingon.

   The sound of phasers and spaceships boomed throughout the darkened living room.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Well, St. Patty’s Day has come again, and with it our celebration of everything Irish. Since half my family comes from one part of Ireland or another I though I’d share some gems of Irish-ness to make your own St. Patrick’s Day more memorable. Because after all, today we’re all Irish!

Now if you want to actually speak Irish, let me tell you that the Irish Gaelic can befuddle most English-speakers as its Celtic pronunciations differ widely from most other Indo-European languages. However, for today I’ll give you a real easy one. Erin go Bragh! It commonly means “Ireland forever,” and if you say this to most any Irish or even Irish-Americans today you’re likely to generate a little smile of genuine surprise and glee. Try it out for yourself, it rolls off the tongue nicely.

Many things come to people’s minds when they think of Ireland this day. Some think of St. Patrick and snakes while others picture fields full of clover and cows, but trust me, there’s a lot more to celebrate. Irish peoples have lived on their famed Emerald Isle since before the end of the last Ice Age, and recent genetic studies have shown that the Irish are descendants of the original inhabitants of Europe, sharing genomes with a few other isolated populations that trace their genetic line all the way back to the Neolithic. So with more than 10,000 years of history behind them you can’t blame the Irish for developing their own peculiarities.

Some things I particularly enjoy about Irish culture are their food, drink, and books. More writers have come from Ireland than one might expect for an island the size of Maine, and yet they have had a disproportionally large literary impact on Western civilization despite this. Poets such as Yeats, Heaney, and Kavanagh. Playwrights like Singe, Shaw, Goldsmith, O’Casey, and Beckett. Novelists including Joyce, Wilde, and Swift. Short-story authors from O’Flaherty to O’Conner. Historical and cultural writers from Lady Gregory to Edmund Burke. The list goes on and on.

Of course, their stews, Irish breads, and their love of every meat makes Irish food a comfort that even Hobbits would find filling and satisfying. And then there’s Guinness. Ah, the stout. As the Irish themselves put it, on the eight and glorious day of creation in the Bible, God did indeed create beer…to keep the Irish from conquering the world. And it has dutifully served its purpose ever since.

So whether you share some corned beef and cabbage with family this evening, or hit up the local pub with some of your friends, or simply indulge in a few Irish books whilst sipping some good strong tea, remember that being Irish is not a birthright, but rather a state of mind. Not something that is easily described, but instead must be experienced first-hand. So go out and enjoy the day, sport your green attire with pride, and don’t forget to greet those you meet with a hearty Erin go Bragh!