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.