Tag / lessons learned

by Matthew

The Long Road of Authorship

Buckle up, writers, you’re about to go for a ride.

That’s a picture of Foss Flats Road near North Sandwich, New Hampshire. Talk about your worldbuilding!

I took this picture in October of 2012, so it’s well over a decade old. But it’s still one of my favorite photos, because while encapsulating the simple beauty of fall foliage, it is also packed full of metaphors for life. And as I stare at it, metaphors for writing and writers.

Stories are beautiful. Writing undergoes a constant state of renewal. The road is long. The road is imperfect and potentially very long. There’s a lot of debris along the way. The path is lonely and a little off-center (or is it?). The experience is often done out of the spotlight. The destination is unknown. There is light at the end of the road (or is there?). I could go on, but you get the point.

Being an author is an endless journey.

Unless your goal is to fire off one book and then close your laptop/writing journal forever without worrying if anyone’s reading it and never think about it or another story again, publishing your first tale is just the very beginning of an endless slog. Merriam-Webster gives us three definitions for slog, and they all apply to the author’s path after publishing: a hard dogged march or journey, a prolonged arduous task or effort, and hard persistent work. All are true. But first, a word from our sponsor: the traditional publishing industry.

This is a (brief) aside on the state of the traditional publishing world. In 2022, all the tea was spilt in court when the US Government succeeded with an anti-trust lawsuit to stop Penguin Random House from acquiring Simon & Schuster (a $2.2B acquisition that would have reduced the quantity of bona fide big house traditional publishers to four, down from six in the 2010s and dozens in the 1990s). During the weekslong court hearing, publishing executives revealed how only a third of new books published are profitable, and 20% of those making up 80% of the profit. Almost all of that 20% are established, name brand authors like Stephen King, Lee Child, and Brandon Sanderson. There are a few younger upstarts that have recently driven strong sales like Sarah J. Maas, Colleen Hoover, and Rebecca Yarros, but for every one of those newer authors, there are thousands whose books are picked up by a traditional publisher and never reach any real measure of success. And they never get a second book deal. Plus, for every traditionally published author, there are millions more unpublished writers out there hoping to get a chance.

Publishers are, in the PRH CEO’s words, “angel investors in our authors and their dreams, their stories”. For the uninitiated, angel investor is a venture capital term. Incredibly wealthy people invest a very small amount of money for a large stake in something, because at that moment in time, the perceived value is very low, but has at least some potential to be enormous. Back in 2016, the Harry Potter franchise was worth around $25 billion dollars. Before the Philosopher’s Stone came out (1997), a short, off-the-wall, worldbuilding-heavy middle grade story about an orphan boy being sent to wizard school had almost no perceived value. For something that so greatly impacted pop culture, JK Rowling was paid a measly $2000 advance for the first book. Talk about a return on investment!

The publisher had no idea what they were getting.

Publishers guess as to what will be successful, mostly because they don’t know and have admitted it’s more or less impossible to predict how well a debut author’s book will do. Pretty sure a decade ago, no one would have ever guessed that New Adult fantasy (which includes seriously “spicy” content, as the Internet likes to call it) would become the smash success it is today.

Sadly, because of the dynamics of capitalism, publishers focus on what they know will make them money. Those guaranteed wins get far more organizational attention. Subsequently, publishers have pushed far more of the work they used to do onto the laps of authors. Manuscripts have to be edited and revised to perfection before an agent will even touch them. Authors are expected to have a moderate-to-large social network already established. Advances for no-name authors are miniscule to zero. There are a bunch of little small presses still out there who may accept your manuscript, but the story is the same. They can only invest a little time, a spot on their website, an email to Barnes and Noble, and their name on the spine of your book for a slice of the pie. They may be a “traditional” publisher, but is that worth it considering the effort and strain it takes? What’s your return on investment there? Dubious.

But perhaps most damning of all, the marketing and PR heft of the publishing houses are hyper-focused on the already established authors they know will move books. This leaves the bulk of the marketing work to the author.

Enter the slog.

No one likes an unwelcome slog. Yet I use the term with begrudging acknowledgement here, because for some, that slog is a joy. There are actually people out there who take relish in tackling all this:

  • Researching & communicating with bookstores to get books on shelves
  • Designing, purchasing, and managing swag like bookmarks and stickers
  • Researching & booking author signings
  • Designing, purchasing, and managing online ads
  • And the biggest time sink in history, social media. All of the above are supported by your social media reach.

For me, I’d rather spend time writing stories than promoting them. I suspect that mindset is common among most writers. But, as a (currently) self-published author, 100% of my success is on my shoulders. To date, I’ve pursued marketing with limited effort and received commensurate success for it. Knowing myself, once I have another book or two published, my interest in marketing will increase. But while all of the slog belongs to self-published authors, those few lucky enough to be picked by a traditional publishing house are increasingly responsible for the vast majority of promoting their book.

Before, when a traditional publisher bought a book, everything was pretty hands-off for the author, apart from the occasional signing appearance or tour and (hopefully) collecting a check. Each book was kind of like a road trip that had a beginning (finish the story), middle (get an agent and revise) and an end (get published). Success was prescribed and defined by a fairly simple path.

Now, that journey never ends. Sure, you will write and publish more books. But the obligations of promotion of the first book through the last will forever be on your shoulders. Regardless of how your book gets published, we’re all in the same marketing boat. And because of the diminishing benefits for new authors to be traditionally published, more and more authors will set their sights on self-publishing straight from the start and skip the query trenches, because the return on time investment there is approaching infinitesimal. Making it increasingly likely that the next Harry Potter won’t be found by the Big 5.

So how does a writer know they’re having a successful writing career?

Embrace the journey of authorship as the goal.

There is no spoon. Writers who hope to nurture a lasting career can’t look at the milestone of becoming an author as a road trip with a destination. Neither self-publishing a book or being traditionally published counts as crossing the finish line. Both are almost identical paths along a side-scrolling, endless adventure full of traps and pitfalls, speed bumps, potholes, and plot holes. And marketing. Lots and lots of marketing. It only stops if you give up or get big enough to be worthy of the almighty marketing dollar of the traditional publisher. It’s the experience we’re after. Hopefully we make a few bucks along the way. Some will even earn a sustainable living.

The point is this: in this modern age of books, being a writer no longer only involves typing out words on the page. It will never be that again. As long as you accept that fact, there’s still some great scenery to enjoy.

Time to hit the (writing) road! M

by Matthew

Launch Day

Hey everyone, long time no post.

I’m back, and well, I have news. I’m an author.

Not a writer. Not an aspiring writer. An honest-to-goodness author.

It’s interesting that funny little distinction exists. I am very much the same person today as I was yesterday: slightly older, arguably wiser, perhaps in some circles more distinguished, and certainly in the case of my dermatologist, more profitable. Yet I digress.

I published a book. Steelwing, a middle grade-tween video game fantasy. It’s super fun. Got a lot of traction with literary agents with it, but ultimately none of them “fell in love” with it, as they all like to say. For some, I think the video game setting wasn’t their cup of tea. For others, maybe my writing style didn’t jive with them. Yet for all, I think the honest answer was this: “I don’t know anyone who will buy this right now.”

And by someone, we’re talking acquisition editors at a traditional publishing house. Large or small, the agents and AEs talk. So agents know what AEs are looking for. There are myriad hurdles to get past even if you get to the point where you get an agent and an acquisition editor picks up your story. But the agent’s primary concern is to filter through their slush pile for the rare gems that happen to be at least two things: decent enough writing and something they know with reasonable confidence at least one acquisition editor already wants.

So that wasn’t Steelwing. C’est la vie.

What’s a writer with a “good enough but not wanted” story to do? Do it themselves.

I got Vellum. I learned how to format the interior pages.

I scoured the internet for a cover artist that was both awesome and within my budget.

I learned the mechanisms of setup in both Amazon KDP and Ingram Spark (where bookstores and libraries get their books).

I decided to create my own business, Building Worlds Books, and become my own publisher.

And I picked a date out of the blue. Gave myself a deadline to just say it’s ready. Without that, I’m certain this process could have dragged on and on. My eye for detail is keen, and my first-born perfectionism complex is pronounced. Amazon and Ingram will let you update files after things are launched, which I’m sure will be needed. So I’ll be okay. The hardcover’s cover file hasn’t passed Amazon’s scrutiny yet, and undoubtedly there’ll be a typo or misnomer or some other textual oddity that I won’t abide existing and will want to fix. So that’s nice. But it’s out there as of today.

Unfortunately, that’s just the beginning. Now comes the marketing. And the marketing. And the marketing. I’ve gotta get better at using social media. I need to buy some ads on Amazon and Facebook. Self-publishing is definitely a pay-to-play arena.

And now that Steelwing’s book birthday has arrived, I come to the understanding that today is not crossing the finish line, but starting the race. Everything up to this point has been training. Now comes the marathon of marketing. Ads. Book signings. Getting the word out. Rinse, repeat.

Here’s where I put on the salesman hat: If you’d like a signed copy of Steelwing, head over to Building Worlds Books and click the shop link. I’m doing the fulfilment all by myself, so it will be done with love and kindness.

If you’d like a less expensive, unsigned copy, head over to Amazon (sponsored link), where I will appreciate you just as much.

I also have a book signing coming up already on Sunday, November 12th from 1:00PM-3:00PM at the Half Price Books flagship bookstore in Dallas. 5803 E NW Hwy, Dallas, TX 75231. I will have books there for sale. Come say hi!

That’s it for now. Lots more to come on how the whole process went down, what I’ve learned, and what’s in store for the future. Stay tuned! M

by Matthew

Unconventionally Conventional

There are some genre rules writers just can’t ignore. But with some creative choices, you can still create a unique story while satisfying reader expectations.

Are you a writer who wants to break free from the shackles of genre conventions? Do you want to be remembered as the one who shook up the literary world with your unabashedly unique storytelling? Well, hold your horses, because I’ve got some news for you: it’s not that simple.

As much as we love a good original story, there are some rules writers just can’t ignore. Genre fiction has certain expectations, and while adhering to a formula might seem limiting, there’s a reason those expectations exist. They work. In my previous post, I detailed why writers must be good readers. One of the most important reasons is so that we can understand the formulas that make genre fiction successful.

Fear not. Following a recipe doesn’t mean you can’t be original (insert your favorite writers-are-bakers metaphor here). In fact, some of the most memorable books in recent years have managed to be both unconventional and conventional at the same time. Let’s take a look at some examples (note, these feature affiliate links to Amazon in case you’re eager to make a purchase):

Fantasy: Naomi Novik’s “A Deadly Education“

Sure, we’ve seen the magical school trope before. A lot. But Novik takes it to a whole new level by creating a world where the school itself is trying to kill its students. It’s a fresh take on a familiar concept. There are still fantasy bread-and-butter tropes like rival factions, a slow-burn romance, historical references, and political themes, but within the killer school bounds she truly delivers on the key elements readers expect from a fantasy novel: magic, world-building, and a strong protagonist. Novik’s choice of first-person point of view blends internal monologues and snarky commentary with the overarching plot structure which adds a sense of closeness for the reader.

Sci-fi: Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff’s “Illuminae“

Told through a series of documents and transcripts, “Illuminae” is not your average sci-fi novel. The story’s presentation as a dossier of interviews, chat logs, pictures, diagrams, and other digital files allows for an immersive experience that makes readers feel like they’re part of the action by assuming the role of the investigator after an interstellar incident. Despite the complete lack of narrative, it still hits all the right notes: spaceships (many), explosions (lots), life-or-death decisions (every turn), a gripping plot, and plenty of action. By breaking the mold of traditional narrative structure, Kaufman and Kristoff keeps things fresh while still satisfying readers’ expectations.

Romance: Jesse Sutanto’s “Well, That Was Unexpected“

Romance novels often follow a predictable formula: girl meets boy, they fall in love, they hit a bump in the road, but eventually they end up together. “Well, That Was Unexpected” manages to surprise with twists at every turn. Its rom-com staples include characters who are flawed and relatable, cringe-inducing YA awkwardness, and a storyline that’s both hilarious and heartwarming. But those staples are all set against a rich cultural immersion in Indonesia, both in place and family. It also features awesome side characters that are, at times, even more engrossing than the protagonists. Additionally, Sutanto’s use of multiple narrators, including one who isn’t involved in the central romance, adds depth and complexity to the story, making it far more than just a typical rom-com.

Thriller: Alex Michaelides’ “The Silent Patient“

A good thriller needs to keep readers on the edge of their seat, and “The Silent Patient” does just that. But Michaelides also manages to subvert expectations by flipping the narrative on its head. Instead of following the detective trying to solve the case, we’re following the patient who’s at the center of it all. It’s a clever twist that keeps readers guessing until the very end. Michaelides’ use of a non-linear narrative structure, jumping between present-day events and flashbacks to the past, adds layers of intrigue to the story, further enhancing the thriller experience.

Let’s try an exercise. I made the above photo on the AI diffusion art site Midjourney. Based on that picture alone, I will, on the fly right now, come up with an unconventional approach to the story that is represented by the thriller/supernatural/fantasy/whatever that picture is. I’ll give myself two minutes to brainstorm. Grab a pen and paper (or type it out) and come up with a query blurb with me. Here goes:

Carter Bullford’s life was completely on track. High profile corporate law gig with a prime NYC office. Aston Martin. Private island off the Keys. Gorgeous Val and stunning Katy both after his attention. But most importantly of all, the sins of his past had been completely forgotten.

A legal malpractice suit brings that all to a halt. Piece by piece, everything that he built crashes down and his life comes to ruin. Then the storm comes. Black as night clouds belch red lightning. One by one, every person in Carter’s life disappears into the storm. The city grinds to a halt with scant few left to run it. Desperate for an end, Carter finds the storm won’t claim him. When he comes across Dalia, a former colleague he screwed when he left her firm, the tatters of his world are obliterated.

Turns out, he’s not in his world, he’s in ours. For reasons forgotten, Carter had stopped trying to find a way home. Now, home has found him, his sins have reemerged, and he’s in for the trial of his life. Conviction means going home. Exoneration means exile on Earth. He’s not sure which one’s worse.

Okay, pencils down. So, that could be a hot mess, but it could be really fun. At the very least, it sounds different. What (correctly submitted to) genre agent wouldn’t at least take a peek at the first few pages? Aimed toward the sci-fi alien politics crowd, it plays like a legal procedural. Or maybe it’s for the legal procedural fans who get an emotional tale of interplanetary intrigue amidst the court battle. Don’t expect me to flesh this one out into 100k words; it’s going to the bottom of my book ideas pile. But, hopefully you get the point.

The point is, genre conventions exist for a reason. They’re the building blocks of a successful story. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be original within those constraints. In fact, by taking a well-worn trope and giving it a unique spin, you just might create something truly memorable. So fully embrace the tried and true boundaries that your genre readers love and expect, then go ahead and break them – with a scalpel.

by Matthew

Why Writers Must Read

More often than not, the first piece of advice given to aspiring writers is they need to be good readers. Let’s take a deeper dive into the reasons.

Writers must read? More often than not, the first piece of advice given to an aspiring author is they need to be good readers. On the surface, it seems like good advice, but the reasons why it is so important don’t always follow up the advice.

Hello 2023! Bit of a long pause to the blog with the holidays, couple bouts of bronchitis, ski vacation, sick fam, yada yada. But I’m back for more writing fun, and some news on two of my books (next post).

A book gives writers more than just a story.

But first, a thought on reading, as a writer. There are many facets to the sage wisdom, so let’s take a deeper dive into a few.

  1. Writers must read in their genre
    The reasons for this are pretty obvious. You need to know what’s popular. What has come before you. Where the market is saturated, and where there are opportunities to carve a niche. What’s hot (imagine anything fantasy school-related after Harry Potter, or vampires and werewolves after Twilight)? What’s overdone (those things a few years later)? If your goal is just to write a specific story, without any kind of publishing-related goals other than to just ‘put it out there’, then write the story your heart wants to write. If you aim to be a financially successful author, then you need read your genre’s tea leaves, and if not be an expert, be at least aware.
  2. Writers must read outside their genre
    Maybe a little less obvious here. Most fiction stories contain elements from multiple genres. Your historical romance might have a bit of mystery to it. Your swashbuckling space opera has a heist subplot. Your epic fantasy turns into a costumed police procedural. You need to appreciate the elements (tropes, structure, character types, etc.) that make stories in those genres successful, if you are to be successful in applying horror to your bake-sale comedy.
  3. Writers must read recent releases
    This is good advice, but especially applies to anyone hoping to be traditionally published. You need to know what agents (and publishing houses) are looking for, what’s selling, and where the market is headed. In addition to reading recent books, you have to follow up by absorbing any metadata you can find about them via sites like Publisher’s Marketplace.
  4. Writers must read debut authors
    Right next to #3 is this, and also important to those who want to find a literary agent. You need to understand (and incorporate) trends from modern publishing. Read a dozen debut novels and identify trends – how do the opening pages look? Lots of dialogue? Lots of action? How much backstory? How purple is the prose? Is the story told chronologically or out of order? If your 150k-word moose-on-skis spy thriller doesn’t conform to what publishers want right this moment from a debut author, you’re guaranteed to not get an agent’s attention.
  5. Writers must read classics
    This one, to me, is probably the least important, because we only have so much time in our day to dedicate to reading. I think an aspiring writer will get more mileage out of reading modern works simply because today’s publishers aren’t looking for Tolkien, they’re looking for VE Schwab. Read classics if it’s important to you. Do it so you’re versed in your genre’s history, but do it with the understanding that all the classics have serious flaws when looked at with a modern publisher’s lens.
  6. Writers must read for ideas
    This one is my favorite, and a great example of it struck me this week (and what kicked me in the butt to get back onto my blog). I am at present listening to the audiobook of a fantasy titled Unraveller. About a quarter of the way in, the protagonists are deep in a murky forest when one protagonist remarks (I’m paraphrasing) that she is natively able to discern the noises and nuances of the marsh far better than her companion and his ‘highland ears’. Immediately when I heard that, I thought “Wow, that is a great piece of worldbuilding.” In a single sentence, we’re educated on the protagonists’ regions of upbringing, differences in their observational abilities, and the makeup of their environment. Now, I am not advocating that you go out and copy another author’s hard work. But there is absolutely nothing wrong with saying your grizzled space pirate can isolate the mating calls of the Nimbus VII glow-monkeys ten clicks sooner than his alien co-pilot can.

So there you go, writers. Some great reasons to be a great reader. If anyone in your writing sphere (writing group, classes, critique partners, etc.) says they don’t think reading is important for writers, you have my emphatic endorsement to completely ignore anything they have to say.

by Matthew

Dial Me for Murder

Hello everyone, welcome back! The end of summer is approaching, and the insane heat here in Texas has let up (a touch). Took some time off for an epic, 7-week European adventure in ten cities across five countries. Didn’t get much of any writing done, but did have plenty of time for thinking about my completed manuscripts and works-in-progress.

About a quarter into the trip, I got rejection emails on back-to-back days from the final two full manuscript request queries I had unresolved for a middle grade video game fantasy manuscript. Which sucked, of course. This story has been queried a ton. Dozens of cold queries, plus at least twenty pitch sessions across several writing conferences, all of which but one resulted in requests for pages. Half of all of these queries received no reply at all, which is (I assume) a typical response rate for modern day literary agents. Most of the rejections were canned form letters with nothing meaningful to say (typical). A few rejections said they liked what I had submitted, but it just didn’t grab the agent enough to request more.

It wasn’t all bad though. I had a total of seven full requests on this story, six from conference pitches and one from a slush pile cold query. But a pattern had developed over time with the limited feedback I had received from agents: they liked the writing and voice, they liked the characters, but I wasn’t getting to the heart of the adventure soon enough.

So, armed with time to think while riding across Europe on planes, trains, and automobiles, I came up with a plan of action for another revision to my story.

Actually, I already knew what I had to do. Kill the darlings.

We authors, especially those of us in the worldbuilding-heavy fantasy/sci-fi genres, love to add details. Lots of details. Character details. Setting details. Historical details. Details of detailed details. All the details. And a lot of times, readers eat them up.

However, what the prevailing wisdom for an author seeking first-time representation tells us is that we should keep our manuscripts lean and mean. What does that mean for all of those detailed details? Only keep what’s necessary.

So, as I was working through the first revision of this middle grade story, about two chapters’ worth stuck out to me as entirely extraneous. The story is set in my old college town. At the end of every summer the town has a huge outdoor festival, and I wrote a little scene where the heroine has to face some anxieties while going through the crowd. Super fun, well-written, relevant to the character, and enjoyable to all those who had beta read the story, and -bonus- a personal connection for me the author. The true definition of a darling.

BUT

When you start getting a pattern of feedback from agents telling you the story isn’t moving along quick enough, it’s time for those things to go. Why? Because the pace suffers. An agent’s professional success depends on an ability to identify a commercially viable story out of a pile of thousands. So, if their slow-plot alarm bells are ringing, you’d better pay attention.

Back to my story. The heroine, while indeed facing anxieties (conflict) in her trip through the festival crowd, didn’t particularly grow any from the experience. She went on to face more anxieties in other scenes not long after. And while it was relevant to her internal journey, it wasn’t particularly connected to the external plot at all. The festival has nothing to do with the adventure of the plot. So, it had to go. Along with every other reference to the festival. Plus another handful of similar occurrences, where the progress of the plot was bogged down for a fun, but unnecessary detour.

And oh, the pain. Making deep revision cuts can be heartbreaking. I carved out nearly 10% of my story, dropping from 56k words to 51k. All darlings. All gone to the bin. Actually, they’re saved in a separate file that I can go back to in one of two scenarios. 1) After a publisher has fallen in love with my lean and mean manuscript and asks for some more words to make the book a little longer. 2) After this story is published and a sequel calls for the heroine to work her way through a crowd. Grab that text, edit it up, and paste it in. In this digital age, nothing is truly lost, so I say be a little more generous with that scalpel.

Great examples of this lean and mean strategy are the early entries in the Harry Potter series. The first two books are very light on extraneous worldbuilding details, and only later on in books three and onward does JK Rowling add the little interesting flourishes that may not see actual payoff of relevance until a later volume, if at all. The evidence is right there on the shelf.

So, as you’re revising and asking yourself, “Won’t anyone think of those poor, innocent darlings?”

The correct response is: No. They must die.

by Matthew

Lessons from Querying #2

Hello again. Gonna attempt to make this blog a twice-a-week habit. Should be easy enough with the lessons from querying series. There are plenty to share.

Today, we shall discuss the very first thing I learned from the very first literary agent I ever pitched, which was at the DFW Writer’s Convention (aka DFWCon) in 2018, before the world went nuts. Since that point, I’ve heard this same advice from agents a zillion times, so you can take this one as written in stone (with a few exceptions mentioned toward the end).

When pitching/querying a novel, especially a debut novel, you must have a standalone story. It must have a beginning, middle, and end. The goals of the protagonist and threats of the antagonist must be resolved. In short:

You shouldn’t pitch/query the first book of a planned trilogy, or first volume of an open-ended series.

Here’s why:

Publishers are far less likely to be interested in an open-ended work of an unproven author. It’s simple risk/reward math to them. They don’t know if your story will sell. And if you don’t have an established track record of productivity, they don’t know they can count on you to produce sequels in the timeframe they want. Subsequently, agents are far less likely to be interested in representing said work.

“But Matt, I’ve already written the whole trilogy. Won’t that save them a lot of time?” Time, perhaps. But publishers think with their checkbooks first. They don’t want to buy three books when they don’t know if the first book will sell or not.

In addition, as a traditional publishing hopeful wanting to be productive with your writing time, you don’t to spend time writing sequels to books that don’t go anywhere with a publisher or agent. Write three entirely different stories and query them all. Yes, querying sucks at your soul, but your odds are better (very, very low x3 > practically nil x1).

If you plan to self-publish said series if you don’t get anywhere with an agent, then the advice is generally reversed. You want to have a series of books queued up for planned release at Amazon or wherever, as that tends to boost your sales. Lining up multiple books takes advantage of the “You may like…” and “Other readers purchased…” marketing algorithms online booksellers employ. And you want to take advantage of those, because they are time-limited. My focus (at the moment) remains with traditional publishing, so we’ll leave the advice on self-publishing at that for now.

Back to writing standalone stories vs. a series. It is entirely fine and, in some genres encouraged, to leave elements in your worldbuilding and subplots that can turn a standalone novel into the first of a larger story. If you do happen to have a successful debut novel, your publisher will most definitely be interested in your follow-on stories with a now-established audience.

Exceptions? Of course. If you have a million followers somewhere. If you’re a celebrity or known politician. If you write like Amanda Gorman. If you check all the boxes of a publisher’s flavor-of-the-month acquisitions binge. If you happen to query the exactly right agent at the right time that happens to have a great relationship with exactly the right editor and that editor’s publishing house’s cards all line up for you at exactly the right time. Long odds to line up all of those ducks in a row.

Success in traditional publishing has long odds already. As writers we must do what we can to improve our chances. Don’t make it easy for an agent to say no to you in the slushpile phase.

“So Matt, what happened with that first pitch session?” It was a polite decline. She gave no further reason than I had admittedly written the first book of a trilogy. The quality of the plot or characters or worldbuilding didn’t matter. I didn’t pass that first hurdle. I learned that lesson quickly and altered my pitch to the other three agents I met at the conference that weekend. All three requested materials. When I got home, I spent a furious week fixing the story before submitting my queries to those agents. I adjusted the ending, tweaked the goals, the antagonist, and trimmed the various subplots that were intended to further the story into books 2 and 3. I never got any further with an agent than the initial requests for materials from those pitches, or from unsolicited queries (which usually provide zero actionable feedback), so it’s entirely possible I didn’t de-trilogy it enough.

That manuscript is now on the shelf, biding its time. I still love the story. It’s the one that got me into the passion of writing in the first place. It’ll get attention again some day. Now that I’ve completed two more manuscripts (both entirely different stories), I suspect the quality of the writing wasn’t where it needed to be to catch an agent’s eye. We’ll talk more about that in an upcoming post.

Keep writing! M

by Matthew

Lessons from Querying #1

Long time, no post. Eh, blog? Those longer analysis posts are fun, but certainly time-consuming. I’ll keep up with those at some point in the future, but to get my duff back into the blog, I thought (at the behest of some critique group friends) I would start a series of short posts that share various lessons I’ve learned throughout my time attempting to query the novels I’ve written. Some brief facts to set your mindframe:

As of March 31, 2022:

I have written three novels, two adult, one middle grade, all various forms of contemporary fantasy.

All three have been edited and revised vigorously. Reviewed with critique groups as I was writing them. Bounced off beta readers. They’re all within the expected bounds of word count. The voice and subject matter are appropriate for their target audiences.

All three have been queried. The two adult I have shelved for now and am focusing on querying the MG story while I write my fourth novel (YA sci-fi).

I do not yet have representation from a literary agent. But I am still hopeful.

The MG story has received three full manuscript requests, all from pitch sessions at (virtual) conferences, as well as over a 95% request rate for materials from agents I’ve pitched. None have requested more material, though there are dozens of unrejected queries still floating out there (fingers crossed!).

None of my unsolicited queries have received anything other than a rejection. Most do not get any kind of feedback other than a form response that apologizes and says “it’s not for me”.

Despite my lack of success, I feel I’m close. The MG story has had some very positive responses in the rejections. Literary agents sometimes refer me to colleagues or other agent friends. I get compliments. “Writing is strong” and “fun elements” and “twist on tropes” have been common. What’s also common? “I didn’t fall in love with it.” What’s the lesson here?

Writing and reading are subjective exercises. Hence, agenting is a subjective profession.

This means two things: Writers (should) write what they enjoy reading. Agents will (generally) only represent stories they love. If you query an agent, and that agent doesn’t love your story (or have dollar signs spin through the whites of their eyes), that agent will not offer you representation.

They may compliment you on your writing. They may point out things they liked, or an area of improvement. If an agent takes the time to send you anything other than a form rejection response, that in itself is an uncommon thing.

But, if they don’t connect with it first as a reader, beyond being a professional wanting to represent it in the confounding quagmire of traditional publishing, they aren’t going to offer you representation. Doesn’t matter if you wrote Harry Potter or Pride and Prejudice. If that reader doesn’t care for wizards and magic or proper English manners and the search for self, that reader isn’t going to offer you representation. Simple as that.

Not every reader will enjoy your book baby. Consequentially, not every literary agent will love it either. Doesn’t mean it’s not good, or not a potential bestseller. Just means that particular person you queried isn’t going to rep you. That’s not the end of the world — it’s the wrong needle in the haystack.

Keep looking! M