Interest!

Yes, that's correct - an agent (or rather, a reader for, and representing an agent) is interested in viewing the first 50 pages of my manuscript. As Mrs. Bennett would say, I am extremely diverted! Actually, I am very excited, hopeful, leery, optimistic, doubtful, and hungry at the same time. Still, the fact that the very idea of my manuscript has generated even the slightest of interest (and an email form letter could very well be described as the slightest of interest) is exactly what I would have wished (again, a Jane Austen-ism). So off it goes, my manila envelope containing pages and pages of hard work and lofty dreams (okay, without Lady Jane, I might as well stop).

I'm excited!

3 Things That Really Chap My Hide

1. Salesmen who inform you of hidden costs only after you have picked out a cool new cell phone to replace your old ugly one. Last weekend at the Legends, I was informed by a slightly too-elderly-to-be-selling-cell-phones gentleman that in addition to paying for the phone I had just picked out, I would also need to pay an $18 processing fee to update my account. $18 dollars to spend $124 dollars on a phone that was advertised as $49.99. So, in essence, I am expected to pay $18 so that I can then spend $124 dollars on a phone that is apparently only worth about $50. Is that so?

2. It doesn't matter what #2 is, I'm talking about an establishment that expects customers to pay in order to pay, to spend money in order to spend money. What business can possibly stay afloat with tactics like these? I mean, what is a processing fee supposed to cover? The old man behind the counter punches a few keys and for that I'm supposed to pay $18? Or is there some kind of Cingular/AT&T monkey that must be fed a constant stream of organic bananas to keep him pushing the "processing button?" Is there a trainer involved? Am I buying his lunch too? Androids? Small children? Who is doing this "processing," if not the computer itself which, I'm sorry, but does not deserve a tip for doing its job. It's a computer! There is no such thing as "processing expenses," therefore there is no such thing as a processing fee, and therefore I refuse to pay it.

3. Did this guy really expect me to spend $124 on a $50 phone, after paying him an $18 processing fee for an account that costs me nearly $100 dollars a month to maintain? The sense of self-importance that I was counting on with the purchase of a brand new sleek and silver LG Shine can wait! I will not be taken advantage of by these thieving wireless companies with their Kung Fu grip on the ego of society. I don't care. Though I must use it in secret, or hide it behind a cardboard cut-out of a Blackberry, I will continue to use my old, ugly, hideously uncool black flip phone until the insanity has ceased. I will not monetarily contribute to the idea that this is okay. I am not spending more than a phone is worth, I am not mailing in a rebate, and I am not - I repeat, am not paying a processing fee! Until we all say it, I won't get a cool new phone. Back me up America! I need an LG Shine! Make it happen.

A Word About Agent Queries

In a word, they're frustrating. Be original without being cute, be confident without being cocky, condense the last two years of toiling over a hot laptop into a single paragraph and yet still convey just how brilliant and original your work really is. Impossible. Even with only 31 queries under my belt, I have come to the realization that the little extras you put in there, the catchy first sentence, the references to stuff you found on their website to prove that you've actually been to their website, it all does very little, if anything to increase your chances of capturing their attention. Your work alone must do it, and do it in 4-5 sentences. 46,600 words in 60. Impossible. Well, I'm sick of it. I've decided to cut right to the point. No cheeky little openings, no material-related statistics, just the facts. Here's what I got, here's what it's about, here's who I am, how to contact me, thank you good night. If they like it, they like it, and if they don't (a much more plausible scenario), then hang it all I tried. I put myself out there, even though I am continuous and relentlessly, and sometimes even rudely, rejected. I'll not belabor my plea, which in essence is what a query truly is: a very serious, properly formatted, well-constructed beggar's beg to be singled out among the rest of the masses. Desire without desperation, a plea without pleading. A question without any hope of a favorable answer. Like asking your dad for a new bike when you know, oh you just know good and well, that you're getting your brother's old used up one. You just know it.

I Am Sooooo Green

I realize this is a marked deviation from my usual, and very strict policy of sticking to the theme of the blog, that is my quest to become a published author. But some things are just too important to be ignored, like our environment. HAHAHAHAHA! Oh man, I'm just kidding. No, seriously though, I did get these bags at Hyvee for $0.99 a piece. They are bright, quite sturdy, and cut down on the use of plastic bags. My groceries actually look better in these things. And, you can fit like twice as much stuff in one of these than a regular plastic bag, and these handles will never break, dropping your glass bottles of spaghetti sauce to burst open on the kitchen floor. The handles are also very thick and wide, unlike the plastic bags, the handles of which stretch under the weight of your cartons of ice cream, creating a thin string of plastic which acts like a tournaquet against your aching fingers. They feel good, they look good, they're good for the environment. You also get $0.04 per bag off your purchase every time you use them. $0.04! Hey, it adds up, okay!

School Shmool

Hang it all, why should I go to school? To better myself? To raise my standard of living? I think I'm good enough already, you're welcome, and my standard of living is high enough. No, today I say nay to it. Nay to school, nay to homework, nay to stuffy classrooms and stuffy professors and stuffy students with over-inflated senses of self-esteem, and nay to the naysayers who would say that I should do otherwise. Today I won't do it. Today I refuse, outright, regardless of what educational convention dictates. Today I stand here and say to you that I am an immovable force against the corruption and money grubbing facilitated by our government through the higher education system. Today I do not yield.

Tomorrow, inevitably, is another story.

Internet Rejection

I imagine literary agent offices to be a busy place, a flurry of papers and fax machines and computers all being overloaded with query letters, like mine, being hastily rejected, like mine. I know agents are busy, and the lackeys that read our lowly query letters even more so, but is it really too much to ask that they actually read the query? Really? Take my most recent rejection as an example:

Dear Joselyn Martin:
Thank you for your query letter. I’m sorry but I’m overwhelmed with fiction submissions and the novel you outline didn’t pique my interest enough to add to my pile of manuscripts. Good luck to you.
Yours,
Mickey Choate

Wait, wait, wait. Fiction? Novel? My manuscript? The word "true" appears right in the title! The query begins "My non-fiction work." Are you telling me that after going to the library to look you up in the Writer's Market, going to your website, doing my homework, crafting a personal query letter, affixing two stamps, one for the return envelope which you didn't even use, you can't even click on the correct rejection template? Really? My reply:

Dear Mr. Choate:
Sorry it has taken me so long to get back with you, but I have spent the time pouring over my manuscript and I cannot agree with your assessment. Try as I may to see this as a fiction manuscript, I can quite clearly recall each detail as it happened to me, and so I am afraid I am forced to differ with you. It is indeed non-fiction. I hope you will understand. The word "novel" also is ill suited for my work, as it is not an actual novel, but again non-fiction. Perhaps this rejection has reached me in error. If so, a reply is not necessary as I am much overwhelmed with my pile of rejections at the moment.
Yours,
Joselyn Martin

I await a reply.

The Art of Editing, OR Shoot Me Now and Get It Over With

Yes, only during the editing process can you truly appreciate just how pathetic and ill-equipped you are to produce anything of value to society. At no other time does the author have instilled in them a true loathing of oneself, a loathing rivalled only by the rejection of certain literary agents who shall at present remain nameless. Ah, I remember the good old days, when the creativity flowed through my nimble fingertips onto unsuspecting pages, transforming them into brilliant, living things with emotions and passions, and carefully constructed dialogue. Upon reviewing this masterpiece, however, I have discovered very little that does not reduce me to tears, or worse yet, nausea. Suddenly, this wonder that I have constructed, on further investigation, appears to be nothing more than a clumsy disaster, one that seems barely salvageable. But salvage it I must. Though every scene makes me cringe in the thought that it came from my own inadequate imagination, a disgrace to the very electronic device it was typed on, I shall press forward. I shall right this wrong. I shall avenge my former self who, with compromised judgment to say the least, brought forth on this planet such a compost of bile and dross! It shall be made clean!

I Learn Real Good Now!

Against my own judgment (the lazier part of it, I'm sure), I have decided to continue my education passed...well...high school and some college coursework. This of course sucks in so very many ways, first of which being that the time I have previously devoted to writing and agent-finding must now be divided between homework, online coursework, studying for online coursework, and getting angry because my online coursework is taking away so much time from my writing and agent-finding. Then there's the financial strain, even being that it is community college they still think very highly of their super high school status. But what really gets me about the whole thing is this idea that unless I spend countless hours and nauseating amounts of money on classroom study that will, on average, prepare me for about 0.01% of the actual skills required to perform the job I intend to pursue, I still can't get said job until I finish this meaningless coursework. Ridiculous! I am confident that if thrown into the very position I will spend innumerable units of energy and years of meaningless lectures on, I would be able to master all that is required of me within a few months. A few months, as opposed to years. And I would be getting paid, instead of paying. But no, the scholarly institutions of our time have struck some kind of sick deal with the government, the state, the underground minions of torturous boredom, wherein all peoples wanting to better themselves (that is, rise above minimum wage) must undergo the punishment that is the continuing educational system. I have revolted against it as long as I could. I am not proud of myself for choosing to jump through these tainted, expensive hoops, but there it is. I will continue to write, continue to seek publication. I will also excel in my studies, all the while hoping against very dismal odds that this backup plan of degrees and regular employment will somehow become the backup plan I didn't have to use after all.

Back!

I spent all of April working feverishly to finish a screenplay, spent the beginning of May rejoicing and recuperating, spent the end of May in Texas, and now that it is June the time has come to leap back into action! The editing process is underway, and most important to this blog, the query letters are ticking once again. Onward and upward. Can't let accomplishment stifle the unbearable longing for yet more accomplishment. Let the rejections start flowing in anew, I will not be detoured!

Did It!

Fade Out. It's over, and I did it. I finished my screenplay. It's good too. I mean, it won't be great until a few months from now when all my meticulous editing can overpower the loose ends creative energy often leaves behind, and after realizing this isn't working, I send it off for some professional help. But I did it. I can now turn my attention back to the relentless pursuit of a literary agent. Yes, the considerably less rewarding task of generating form letters from uninterested agents will once again enter into my life and the happy sleep of creativity and satisfaction will leave through the same door. Had I any idea of my hard work eventually paying off perhaps I would be more eager to continue, but as it is I've been dreading it. Regardless, it is time to press on. I've updated the website, and collected yet more names and addresses of literary agents so that I may subject them to the suggestion that my book is for them, to which they will laugh heartily. Time to restock the freezer with various items of a chocolate base.

On Hiatus

For those of you who have been missing my blog entries lately (Julia, Dad), I should mention that for the entire month of April I have taken off the pursuit of yet more rejections in favor of creative writing. I am participating in ScriptFrenzy (http://www.scriptfrenzy.org/). It's for screenwriters, playwrights, TV writers who want to connect with others in their area who share this interest. The month of April is script writing month, where members commit to 100 pages by the end of the month. Today I am on page 46. Next month I will be back, however. Back into the trenches where shots of insecurity whizz ever so often passed my ears.

Kindly Rejection

I must make a note here that Miriam Altshuler of Miriam Altshuler Literary Agency has sent me the kindest rejection letter that I ever expect to receive. She called me a "talented" and "humorous" writer, and I am very surprised and warmed by the fact that she took time out to reject me in a proper and respectful way. Someday, I would like to work with this woman.

Back On Track

I will admit, I took a little detour there for a few weeks. But, finding that the road of self-pity and over-eating is a sad and lonely one, I have returned with new resolve and a spirit of irrational determination. Yesterday I unleashed a veritable blitz of Query letters, six in one day, and I feel all the accomplishment that certain, yet postponed rejection can possibly allow. I will not be silenced. I refuse all the fleeting emotions of apathy and defeat, and instead I willingly accept the victory I know is hiding somewhere behind all this mess of No's.

Failure Deferred

I give up. I mean really, how much longer am I expected to withstand this constant bludgeoning to my self-esteem? This violent deference, from which I am supposed to glean some kind of constructive criticism. Just as the burning amber of my hope is fanned into a small flame by some show of interest, it is subsequently dowsed with gallons and gallons of icy cold water - snuffed out without any hint of a rekindle (Miriam Altshuler, you broke my heart). Granted, I have only officially received three rejections, but the fourth is on its way, and already, at this very early stage, I almost want to throw my hands up and go back to a life of ambiguity (or return to my life of ambiguity, rather). I know I have to press on, not because anyone is counting on me, but because I can't stand the thought of not succeeding, and as long as I am still engaged in this futile effort, as hopeless as it may be, I have still managed to defer failure.

Interest!

Alert! Alert! An agent has shown interest in my work, and requested that I send her the first 50-100 pages of my manuscript. Being that this was only my second query ever, when I arrived home last night to see the return envelope sitting on my desk I fully expected outright rejection. On opening it, I was excited to see that this rejection was at least signed by the agent herself, and on further inspection I realized that it was not a rejection at all, but a request to see more of my work. Miriam Altshuler, I knew I liked you. Of course, this is by no means a positive indication of what is to come. My 99 pages and the $12 it cost to mail them may all be returned to me without any chance of representation, but I can't tell you how cool it feels to write "Requested Material" on that envelope. Like a secret code that means "push me to the front of the line people - Miriam is expecting me." Even if nothing comes of it, this request to read more is an indication to me that the very idea of my book is enough to elicit interest, and that it is not a silly piece of nonfiction that only myself would be interested in, as is often my fear as I lay awake at night grinding my teeth together thinking "hey, I'm not supposed to grind my teeth. All those horrible things the dentist told me would happen. Oh, why didn't I just buy that mouthguard - it wasn't that expensive. I just kept thinking about all the postage I was going to have to cough up and I thought 'I can stop grinding my teeth whenever I want,' and now look at me, lying awake in lock-jaw position just asking for dentures. Four and a half years of braces down the toilet."

Small Successes

When in the midst of a lengthy process such as getting published, it is important to maintain a steady stream of small, if not very small successes. In my particular case, success is when I need only send a query letter, as opposed to a whole proposal package, therefore cutting down on postage costs, which prolongs my life since then I will be able to buy groceries. Or, as happened just this week, I am able to use sample chapters returned by one agent, in a proposal package for another agent since the pages are still in such good shape. Lastly, I am quite proud of myself for successfully mailing off not one, but two queries this week, thus speeding along the process. Although, statistically speaking, twice as many queries will only result in twice as many rejections, I am willing to take the long-term risk for the short-term feeling of actual accomplishment.

Query #2

This week's lucky agent is Miriam Altshuler of Miriam Altshuler Literary Agency. Ms. Altshuler is a favorite of mine already, just for the simple fact that she asks only for a Query letter. Instead of stuffing a manila envelope with thirty pages worth of outline and sample chapters, affixing a four dollar postage to it, only to have it all come back to you in another envelope (which you also posted) with a postcard sized generic rejection attached, I can simply take a plain white letter envelope, slap a stamp on it, and send it on it's merry way. Sure it will come back. Sure it will be accompanied by a non-specific rejection of some sort, but I'll know in my heart that I did my very best in that Query letter, and that all together that rejection only cost me $0.82. So thank you, Miriam Altshuler of Miriam Altshuler Literary Agency. I respect your preferences.

Pint-Size Rejection

How big is rejection? Well, if your Balkin Agency Inc., it's about the size of a postcard. A small postcard. A really sad, disappointed, going to eat all the ice cream in the freezer tonight postcard. I guess for my first rejection I had expected something a little more personal. Maybe a form letter, or a handwritten note at the end of my chapter outline. Of course, that would be ridiculous, since I suspect that the Balkin Agency employee unfortunate enough to read my proposal probably didn't get passed the second paragraph of my Query letter. Alas, it begins - the inevitable series of cold, impersonal, uninterested rejections. You know it's coming, and yet somehow it catches you off guard. Oh well. Chin up. Keep writing. Keep sending those letters and outlines and sample chapters and maybe, maaaaaaybe, some sleep deprived, overworked, over-caffeinated agent employee may accidentally, on dropping his bifocals, mark the "acceptance" box instead of the "sorry, you're just not what we're looking for - you ugly, pathetic, no talent hag" box.

Query #1

Yes, in this quest to become a published author, rather than navigate the dark hollows of certain failure alone, I choose to get some help. Therefore, this morning I sent out what will be one of many agent queries in the hopes that some industry professional will be smitten with my work and not use it as potty liner for his miniature dachshund. Statistically speaking, this is highly unlikely, however I will simply have to keep trying. My first attempt is going to Balkin Agency, Inc., where Rick Balkin is the president, and is interested solely in works of nonfiction. Many of the books I found that Mr. Balkin got published were historical, and looked as if they involved a lot of research. I only have one chapter involving research, and even then I put the word in quotes. But what made me think Mr. Balkin and I might make a good match is where he says that anything witty, truly unique, or a labor of love is "grist for my mill." I don't know what grist is, but I do hope that he finds my work witty. Unfortunately, the cold hard reality is that this will be a long process, and so I've started a kind of ticker to the right so that all interested parties (mom, dad, Cheryl) may follow my progress.

It Starts

It's here. The final, official Temp manuscript. I'm told to enjoy these feelings of self-worth and accomplishment because once I start the grueling process of getting published all my happy feelings will leave me and be replaced by defeatism and certain doom. In fact, I just started this blog thing and I already feel like I don't have anything interesting to say. I suppose this is more an expectation of things to come - a hopeful guess that at some point, maybe on more than one occasion, I will have very interesting and entertaining things to share with those who are aware of my Internet existence, and they will be rewarded with many a funny metaphor. As it is, I have a lot of work to do. As frustrating as it is to acknowledge this, the real possibility exists that it may take me years to get any interest in my manuscript, if there is any interest at all, which is highly unlikely, and this blog will become very sad and depressing for everyone. Here would be a good place for some kind of pledge or promise that no matter how hard it gets I'll keep it upbeat and positive so that the rest of you writers out there can be encouraged rather than scared out of ever trying. Well, here we go. Here I go.