Trying (and failing) To Get An Agent

When I first decided that I wanted to be a novelist, finding the time to write was the hardest thing.

Then when I figured that out, getting past the halfway point on a story was the hardest thing.

Then when I made it to the end of my first novel, editing was the hardest thing (it was too hard to take a step back and see my first novel for what it was--a steaming pile of crap).

Then when my manuscript was finally polished, came the hardest thing so far, which still rings true seven years later: 

Querying Agents

I gave it my favorite Jurassic Park .gif and put it in huge, bold letters because it is the scariest, most nerve-wracking thing I have ever done (so far, at least). I have written 12 different versions of the query letter I sent for my first manuscript, and 5 versions for my second manuscript. No particular one seemed to pull in more requests than the other, which made me come to a scary realization: it's all based on the agent's taste. All you can do is extensive research on what each one likes, of course--but what if I waste my ONE shot? Because that's all you get: one shot with each agent, per manuscript.

HOW TERRIFYING IS THAT THOUGHT, WHEN YOU KNOW HOW MANY HUNDREDS OF QUERY LETTERS AGENTS GET PER WEEK? Literary Agents work SO hard to find new clients, while still editing, and submitting, and reading contracts for the clients they already represent. I have so much respect for what they do, don't get me wrong. I'd actually really like to be an agent if my writing dreams don't pan out the way I hope (or maybe even do both!).

But from what I understand, your first sentence has to immediately catch their attention, or you go straight into the "deleted" folder. Some agents like you to dive right into the plot details. Some like you to start with a personalized greeting. Some don't specify anything at all about what they prefer on their website, so you're driven to scouring the web for interviews about what worked for clients of theirs. 

When I read those kinds of posts, I am equally parts jealous and hopeful. 

(Maybe a teensy more jealous than hopeful.)

I wanted to write a post like this before I get an agent, because as a querying writer, reading posts like that makes me drink more wine than I probably should. 

"So you have an agent now, but you received 12 rejections beforehand? And we 'need to just keep trying?' Yeah. I am trying. 

I know it sounds bitter, but those are the thoughts I have every time I read a "I snagged an agent!" post. First off, agents aren't fish for you to snag. They are your hardworking allies in the publishing business. Secondly, it stings to open Twitter every day and see an agent that just rejected you tweet, "I am proud to announce I have a new client! Welcome to my team, *insert writer's twitter handle*!" 

It stings a little bit deeper when that writer is someone you know. You want to be (and ARE) so, so happy for that person, but you can't help but wonder what they have that you don't?

Is it their story hook? Their prose? Their plot twists? Their character's voice? Their query letter?

I try SO hard not to be jealous as my fellow writers get agents and book deals, but some days it's really hard to watch people achieve the dream I want over and over again, while I rack up more rejections. I have sent SO many query letters over the course of seven years, and have gotten nine total requests, with eight rejections (one is still pending, and I'm super excited about it, while trying not to get my hopes up at the same time).

 I know I am not entitled to ANYTHING in the publishing world, and I am grateful to have the friends I have in the business. I love each one, and they are all *amazing* writers who have earned every good opportunity they've gotten. But deep down, under my intense excitement for their successes, it makes each rejection of my own hurt a little bit more. 

But those writers I have befriended on Twitter, and at workshops/college, are my TRUE allies. They will be the ones who are there for me to talk to when I am finally in the business with them, and querying is no longer the hardest thing I am facing. I know publishing is a fickle, sometimes terrible business, but if your dreams don't scare you, they aren't big enough.

This twisted dream I have of being traditionally published is terrifying to me, but I still want to accomplish it more than anything. I am never giving up! It's just hard to fight through all the "Nopes" and "Not yets" to get to the one "YES THIS IS AMAZING GIVE IT TO ME NOW I WANT TO PAY YOU FOR THIS." I know my rejections mean I'm not quite ready, or that I (hopefully) just haven't yet found the one agent who will love, love, love it. 

I just needed to write a post that I can someday look back on, and realize that all the Agented Writer posts about how you just have to keep writing and keep trying were all REALLY SPOT ON. Also, I am NOT complaining about not being agented, because again, I know I am not entitled to one. I just needed to voice my inner struggles because I know there are people out there who feel the same way and are experiencing the same things, and hopefully we can band together while we work for what we want!

So here's to all my writer friends that are facing YOUR current "hardest thing"--whether it's finishing a draft, editing, writing a query letter, searching for an agent, waiting while your agent submits it to publishers, or any other tough things that are keeping you from your dreams! Don't get discouraged. It may not seem like it, but there are people going through the same things you are. 

We just have to stick together (and keep drinking wine)! 

**Also, for querying writers: If you haven't tried QueryTracker.com, PLEASE do so! It will make your life so much easier, and the basic features are free! I made an excel spreadsheet with my first MS, and it was more tiring than querying itself. This website has been a lifesaver for me this go-round.

And just FYI, because I love reading things like this on other writer's blogs:

WICKED ILLUSIONS, my 1st manuscript:

• Queries sent               = 94 
• Full/partial requests   =  7 (all ended in rejection)

*this manuscript was shelved for four years, but I am rewriting it now.

I am currently querying a different manuscript, SOUL RAIDERS, (which sparked the angst to write this post):

• Queries sent (so far)                = 37 
• Full/partial requests                 = 2 (one rejection, one still out with agent)
• Query rejections/no response  = 26

When It's Time To Shelve Your Manuscript...

The Writer's Voice #181

I'm sure most of you have heard about mutli-blog, mulit-agented "The Writer's Voice" contest, hosted by Cupid's Literary Connection, Brenda Drake, Monica B.W., and Krista Van Dolzer. If you've been living under a rock, a pile of edits, or you know, it you're not a writer, it's basically like the t.v. show, The Voice-- ten entries move to the second round, and then get a coach to help polish their entries before the agents see them. 

Contests like these are a fantabulous way (that's right, I said FANTABULOUS) for agent-seeking writers to rise to top of the slush pile AND meet other writers-- which, in my opinion is the only way to stay sane while querying a project. Meeting other writers who are going through the same thing as you makes the process much less alcohol-involved (usually). 

I wasn't going to enter this contest because I'd decided last month that I was going to retire the manuscript I've been querying. But then I remembered how many friends I made when I entered the Agent Invasion contest (and I got two requests out of it!) so I decided this was my last chance to give this manuscript one more little push into the world (that sounded gross. It was not meant to sound gross.)


So anyway, here is my submission for my YA Fantasy, WICKED ILLUSIONS. I'm number 181.


 Hope you like it. :-)

QUERY:

Sixteen-year-old Lilly Elliott is surrounded by death. In her hometown of Ironbrook, a mysterious fog claims the life of one resident every full moon— a death lottery that no one wants to win. She and the other townspeople would move if they could, but the fog is only one part of the complicated curse that envelops their town; no one can leave. Ever. If they try, the question of their death goes from possible to certain.

As if getting a regular dose of death isn’t enough, Lilly is also having vivid dreams about a missing boy who has a connection to the curse, and she’s starting to fall for him. She’s also recently discovered that she can bring dead things back to life, which could be the saving grace for the town of Ironbrook, except for one small problem; her power comes with a price. For every life she saves, she must replace the energy that she’s given away, and she can only do that by killing someone else. When Blair, an odd classmate, reveals the truth about Lilly’s new abilities, it doesn’t take Lilly long to find out that Blair has everything to do with the things that plague the town. And things in Ironbrook? Just. Get. Weirder.
 

Blair has the same abilities as Lilly, and is addicted to the way it feels to drain a life. She’ll do whatever she can to get Lilly to use her powers as well, including killing Noah, the boy she loves. To save Noah, her family, and the other residents of her town, Lilly has to figure out a way to stop Blair, which may start a war that she doesn’t know how to win.

WICKED ILLUSIONS is a YA fantasy novel, complete at 65,000 words. 

FIRST 250 WORDS:

Someone will die tonight. I wish I know who it’ll be so I can relax. Or not. 

               

I wrap my arms around my legs, settling my chin on top of my knees so I can peer out over the yard. The full moon reflects off of every surface, and the silvery light, almost milky in the dark midnight air, causes my world to glow. Sitting on the wide square of the front porch roof, just outside my bedroom window, is something I do every month when the full moon calls the deadly black fog into Ironbrook.
       

 Cursed. That's what they say is wrong with our town.
        

The fog slithers over the pavement below me, oozing across the yard and around the houses in our neighborhood. The thick, inky mist wraps around the oak trees and flowers, choking them in shadows. No one dares to leave their house on the eve of the full moon, in fear of what the fog might do to them if it touches their skin. I'm safe on the roof though, looming above the silent poison. I shiver as a strong breath of wind blows across the night sky, causing the haze to curl and ebb through the neighborhood at a faster pace.

        

The fog dances through the air and swirls around the posts of the porches that line the edges of the street. With a gust of wind, a thin tail of the black cloud suddenly twists and rises to the edge of the roof where I’m sitting. 

New Ideas Solve Everything

1.) I sent out my last queries for WICKED ILLUSIONS. If this round doesn't land me an agent, I'm moooving on a la Rascall Flatts.

2.) I haz NEW ideas. I've written the first three chapters of three different novels, and since I can't pick just one yet, I am writing two of them right now. One may get more focus than the other because I have to submit a new chapter every other week to my Fiction Writing class at school, and it's the one I've already introduced to the class. (Hint? Brain tumor. Society on the verge of downfall. Yes, the two are related. Mwahahaha)

3.) But the other idea is SO tantalizing that I might just write it Kiersten White style. It's something I've always wanted to write, but never really put down on paper. Last night during a particularly loud thunderstorm, I was laying in bed relishing the sound of thunder and lightning-- which I LOVE-- when all the sudden this entire book just flooded into my head. I immediately grabbed my phone and emailed myself a loose outline, but I dreamed about it all night long. I was delighted to find that this morning I still loved the idea-- and actually understood something that I typed half asleep at midnight. I've never had  an entire plot come into my head so strong and quickly. I had to work HARD for the plot of WICKED ILLUSIONS and I still don't really know how the story in #2 will end. But this idea has dominated my brain completely, and I've already got seven characters fully formed and sketched out as of today. These people have obviously been hiding in the back on my brain just waiting for me to finally give up on my three-year-book and move on to something new. I won't say much about it, except this one, tiny hint:

(If you figure it out from this picture, we need to be friends immediately)

4.) On a completely unrelated note, I have been scouring the internet for things to take my mind off of querying, and I came across this little beauty. Watch it-- whether you love Twilight or hate it, this is guaranteed to make you laugh.

On Starting Over (again)

I've mentioned in my past posts that I have a finished novel and have been querying agents for a few months now. I finally got some (minor) feedback from a couple of agents, and they both said the same thing: they didn't connect with my main character's voice.

So. (I've said that a lot lately) SO.

I decided to rewrite Wicked Illusions. Again. For the fifth time.

The past rewrites? ALL of them have given me a complete 180 turnaround on my manuscript, making it better. And better. And better again.

So when I sat down to write it this time, I started out excited. Like, *really* excited. I just knew that this time I would have the draft that would take me somewhere. But you guys, I this draft is NOT better. It's probably the worst thing I've ever written. It's like I've forgotten how write or something. I keep second guessing myself and rewriting sentences over and over on an endless cycle of sentence-structure-doom. I've lost all my prose, and instead of being happy to write about these characters, I find myself choosing to stare out the window or eat cheerios or scrub the toilet or ANYTHING but work on this fracking novel.

And I think it's because I've already said all I have to say about it. Sure, there a couple of scenes from the last draft that I've gotten better ideas for and know that I could make better. But rewriting it from Blank Page One? It's just not working.

SO.

I am going to try to fix those scenes I mentioned above, morph it into first person present instead of first person past (I've been wishing I'd done this for a long time) and then focus on making Lilly's speech less formal and making her more proactive in certain situations.

But I'm not rewriting the whole thing again. I can't. I'm giving myself one month to do these things, send it to my crit partner, then query the last five agents on my list (and one agent who has already read it, but has graciously agreed to read it again after the edits).  And then...

If it doesn't work out this time, I'm laying it aside. Come February 12th, I'm not looking at it again unless an agent requests it. Y'all, I LOVE this story. I've said it before. But I mostly love it the way it is, and I don't WANT to change the way it is inside my head. If my very best try doesn't make other people love it as much as I do, then that's okay. I want people to love it, but it's more important that I love it *the most*.

So here's to hoping that the *new* draft #5 (which will only differ slightly from draft #4) will be good. But if it has to live forever in my head and in the heads of the few friends and family members that have read it and love it, that's okay with me too. There are plenty of other stories waiting to burst out of this ole brain of mine.

No Kiss Blogfest Entry!

The "almost-kiss."  It happens in every tortured romance.

It's the want to kiss so badly, but knowing you can't. Or you can, but you're interrupted.

*swoons*

Every year on January 2nd, author Frankie Diane Mallis hosts a No Kiss Blogfest. What is this, you ask?

"This is when you get to write a scene or post one from your favorite books, movies, or tv shows that show the almost kiss-- the rising, crushing, excruciating, longing, tension that comes  when two characters get oh-so-close to kissing that you can just feel it, want it, NEED it....and then...they don't!"

CLICK HERE for the link to her blog. You should participate too! Even if you don't write, you can post your favorite almost-kiss scene from a book you love, or a movie clip. 


So anyway, I have decided to share my own almost-kiss from the novel that I'm seeking representation for, WICKED ILLUSIONS. (Check out my "Making Stuff Up" tab for more info on the storyline, if you please. :-D) Let me know if you like it! 

~

I could tell the boy was fighting back a smile. For some reason, he seemed to think that I was hilarious, and that infuriated me even more since I wasn't trying to be funny.

            "What the hell are you smiling about?" I hissed.

            "Tiger Lilly," he said softly, reaching out to entwine his fingers in mine. I suddenly felt deflated.

            His face turned serious and he bit his bottom lip like it tasted good— and for a split second, I wondered if it did. He reached forward to brush a piece of stray hair from my collarbone, and I shivered as his fingers burned like licking flames against my skin.

            "I want some answers," I mumbled. "I'm so confused and I just..."

            My thoughts swirled around my head like a tornado and I wanted to be angry, but I couldn't.

            The boy's brow crinkled-- he seemed to balance on the edge of something unspoken for a moment. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn't put my finger on it for some reason.

            "What is your name?" I asked. "So I can stop calling you 'the boy'."

            He ignored my question. "Lilly, I would love nothing more than to give you your answers. I would tell you anything that you wanted to know because I want to be honest with you and I want you to trust me. But I am searching for the same answers myself."

            He dropped his head to stare at the ground and I had to strain to hear him as he whispered to me.

            "I don't know why I am here, or how I even got here.  But I can't leave."

            He was trapped here, just like I was trapped in Ironbrook. Neither of us could run away-- My thoughts slammed to a halt, and I suddenly knew where I'd seen him. I wondered why I hadn't caught it before now. He was the boy from the newspaper article I'd read in Mr. Bowman's class.

            Where were we?

             "Is your name Noah?" I asked.

            He nodded and locked his eyes with mine, his own silent questions burning into me. He grabbed my waist gently and pulled me into his arms. His right hand lightly cupped my face as he brushed his thumb across my cheekbone, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe.

            He leaned in, and for a moment I thought that he was going to kiss me. His lips were so close to mine that I could feel the electricity sparkling between our skin. I wanted it to happen— my head clouded with a need to feel the soft curve of his lips against my own. His thumb traced down my jaw line, settling behind my ear with a whisper-soft touch. He gently pulled my head closer to his, and just before our lips touched, I remembered.

            "Noah," I whispered, my words hissing across his mouth. He exhaled in defeat and shifted backwards a tiny fraction. I fought through the clouds in my brain and the urge to forget about this and plant my lips onto his, but I knew what I had to do. I had to figure out a gentle way to tell him what he needed to know.

             But I could only tell him the truth, and truths like that could only be revealed for what they were; horrible. We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us blinking. I knew what I had to tell him, but it took me a while to build up the courage.

             "I think you might be dead," I said, finally.