Sic Semper Touts

Recently, the papers have been covering the back and forth finger wagging between the DUP and Sinn Fein, a juvenile exchange that suits the school yard rather than the halls of government.

How perfect, then, that a tout was assassinated, and just in time to disrupt the peace process. Gerry Adams of Sinn Fein often sounds like a broken record with his claims of 'securocrat' dirty tricks, but too many coincidences may prove him right.

The late Mr. Donaldson was arrested years ago, charged as a Sinn Fein operative spying on the Northern Ireland assembly, just when things were getting up and running and heading towards direct rule. Paisley and his merry band were not happy, being forced to breathe the same air as the Shinners. Their lungs were spared with Donaldson's arrest, which brought down the power-sharing government in quick time and turned the clock back to good old rule from London. Just the way the DUP likes it, as luck would have it.

In December, when the peace process made another step forward, the biggest bank robbery in history went down, and immediately it was the IRA's fault. As expected, Gerry Adams was out and about, denying any IRA involvement while both England and Ireland blamed his troop. To date, those arrested in connection with the robbery have links to money laundering operations that are not IRA, but pure criminal enterprises. No one has paraded a definite IRA link to the crime. After the theft, the DUP ran screaming in horror, abandoning further efforts to get direct rule up and running again.

Yesterday, Mr. Donaldson was found dead, and the reports claimed he had been mutilated and tortured, and isn't that exactly how the IRA kills those who betray the cause? Oh, sorry, a bit hasty there. Turns out he was not tortured or mutilated in an IRA tout-killing scenario. Apparently the mutilation was only the result of a defensive wound, where the victim put up an arm to instinctively protect the head from the bullet.

And what's the fall-out? Bertie Ahern and Tony Blair are due to meet today to give the peace process are hearty kick in the arse to get it up and moving. What news of the DUP? Why, they're screaming and attempting to run for the hills, blaming the IRA and they haven't gone away and they're still a bunch of criminals and we'll not hold office with the likes of them in the room.

Who killed Mr. Donaldson? The official line these days asks, Who benefits from his death? Maybe Gerry Adams has it right. Maybe the folks who don't want home rule have something to do with it. It could be loyalist paramilitary, or it could be disgruntled IRA men who like the status quo.

Unlike previous derailments, the two governments are pushing ahead, essentially ignoring the horrified cries of the DUP. The only way forward is to push ahead, stepping over the road blocks that were placed to block progress. Do Ahern and Blair believe Gerry Adams more than Paisley? Our day will come, cry Sinn Fein - maybe it's coming?

Job Openings

Since I don't live in New York, I can't apply for these positions, but if someone wanted to get a leg up in agenting, here's two spots to start, courtesy of Publishers Marketplace:

At Trident Media, they're in need of a foreign rights assistant. Now, I could swear that they were looking for the same assistant not that long ago. High turnover? Fast burn-out? Or maybe it's the salary, butting up against the cost of living in NYC:

The right candidate must have at least one to two years of book publishing experience, preferably at a literary agency. Strong organization skills and a willingness to put in long hours when necessary are a must. Must be personable, energetic, detail-minded, and extremely well organized with the ability to prioritize.

Other responsibilities include trafficking and processing payments and contracts, corresponding and talking with clients and publishers, answering a heavy volume of daily email, tracking manuscript and book submissions, organizing trips to Frankfurt and London for the Book Fairs, reading manuscripts (must love books!), writing editorial letters, filing, and general administrative duties. Proficiency in Word, Excel a must; knowledge of BAITS software a plus.

And what are they paying? Maybe I expect too much, but $28,000 per year, even with medical and dental coverage, sounds a bit low for that much responsibility. Why, reading the slush alone must be worthy of combat pay.

Nicholas Ellison is on the prowl for a literary agent assistant, but they leave off the salary part. Now, if it was a high-paying job, you'd think they would make the salary a banner headline, but they're keeping mum. Still, one has to start somewhere, and the bottom is usually the jumping off point.

If you take up the position, your duties are:

...author and editor correspondence, manuscript evaluation, preparation of author submissions and general office work. This position involves work in all aspects of publishing, including foreign and film rights. This job is an excellent opportunity for a self-starter who wants to be part of a diverse agency. Strong computer and writing skills essential. Some publishing experience preferred. Must be able to start immediately.

So, there you are, literary agent wanna-be, a couple of jobs available. Shoot them your resume and you're on your way to fame and fortune - and more rejection than a normal soul can handle.

Celebrity

According to today's New York Times, comedian Craig Ferguson is about to become a published author. Nothing unusual about that, considering the towering 'platform' that a gentleman with a television show can stand upon.

Publishers Weekly has already given his novel a glowing review, citing its "ebullient picaresque" quality and then there's the reverie and humor on top of all that. All in all, the work is a literary confection, and probably not the sort of thing that Ferguson's fans would expect - or probably even read.

Mr. Ferguson never returned to the classroom, but he eventually began to design a syllabus of "Great Books" for himself to read, partly to plug the gaps in his education but also to ward off loneliness, particularly during long stretches on television and movie sets.

And the quote that I cite brings up an interesting point.

Craig Ferguson never went to writing workshops, and he certainly did not earn his MFA. He learned how to write by reading, and not by reading the toss-away nonsense that is the New York Times Best Seller list. What remains to be seen is whether or not the man can, indeed, write a novel that is readable. I'm pulling for him on that one. The best way to learn how to write is to read good books, and if Craig Ferguson can earn out his advance and garner a strong sell-through, I'll be feeling quite clever and smart.

Chronicle has given Mr. Ferguson's book a first printing — 30,000 copies — that would be considered quite large for a first-time author who was not a Hollywood celebrity. But Mr. Ferguson said that far more important than the modest advance he received — probably less than he would earn for a night of stand-up comedy — was the freedom the publishing house gave him to tell his story with minimal editorial interference.

Of course, he's going to get a bigger first printing because he is a celebrity, and that counts for something to the bean counters. As for the last part of the above quote, well, I don't quite get it. I'll have to wait until I'm published to find out if the big houses actually interfere a great deal with an author's story.

Come to think of it, I doubt that I'll ever know if there's much difference between the editorial freedom of self-publishing or traditional publishing. Wouldn't try the former and don't expect to experience the latter. Anyone have any experience that could be shared?

Is This On?

I keep an e-mail account for queries only - so the only incoming mail would be from literary agents. Can't remember the last time I had any mail in the box.

Even Anna Ghosh of Scovil Chichak Galen did not send her usual auto-response. Every other time that I queried her, I would get one of those verification messages that were tied in with her spam filter. Last night I shot off a query and waited for the return so that I could verify that I was not spamming, but nothing ever came. I have to wonder if my e-mail box is working.

After browsing through this weeks' deals list at Publishers Marketplace, I have an idea that maybe it's not the e-mail box that's not working.

Two debut sales are listed. The first one:

Co-author of He's Just Not That into You Liz Tuccillo's HOW TO BE SINGLE, to Greer Hendricks at Atria, for publication in spring 2007, by Andrea Barzvi at ICM (world).

That's not much of a debut, considering the fact that the author has been published before and has some sort of track record. The second, and final, debut offering comes from a high school English teacher.

Now, I'm not a teacher, I only studied English in high school. But being a teacher is a much better credential than being a former student. No matter how you cut it, it takes credentials to get published these days. Agents are looking for a 'platform' for the author to stand on and shout from, because it's all about sales and marketing.

So, in between sending queries, working on the next novel, and, oh, say, earning a living, we should all be furiously churning out short stories and firing them off to literary rags. Throw enough words on the wall and surely some of them will stick.

As a side note, I had given up on Kathleen Anderson and Jill Grinberg, who had yet to respond to the queries I sent last November. Getting around the additional postage issue, I got a blanket rejection from Kathleen Anderson via e-mail - to an old account I stopped using because the spammers got hold of it. The SASEs I used won't be of much use with those .37 stamps - so what will Anderson/Grinberg do with them? Donate them to charity?

April Fool!

And having a top laugh here. David Black Literary Agency is having the slag with me, but it's all for fun.

When the tri-fold SASE turned up in today's mail, I knew another query was getting rejected, but after so many I don't flinch. As I opened the envelope, though, I noticed the stamp was not one I had used recently. Thanks to the USPS, I've had access to a variety of styles that give me a clue to who's getting back to me.

Sure enough, it was a .37 stamp, and my local post office has kindly passed them along to me without asking for the extra two cents. Well, I knew that the query it came from must have been sent months ago, before I learned of the rate increase.

The form letter must have been through about fifty Xerox sessions, so pale was the ink. Like all form letters, there was no mention of the manuscript title, so how could I know what was rejected?

My log sheet only details the outstanding queries that have a chance of being answered, usually no more than eight to ten weeks old. Nothing on the list from Mr. Black's firm, as expected. I'm sure I started putting extra postage on SASEs in December of last year. Time to turn to the spreadsheet, the master list of every query ever sent.

At last, after a bit of a search, I found that I had sent the query to Leigh Ann Eliseo on October 1. Today being April 1, that's five months ago. Jesus Christ, five months to open an envelope and send back a form rejection?

I checked Agent Query, and Ms. Eliseo is still listed on the staff of David Black Literary, although her listing now says she's not taking queries. Considering my track record in driving literary agents into hiding, I'm thinking that I might have done it again, and it took the poor woman five months to recover enough to send the rejection.

Then I thought, no, it can't be. Why, it's April Fool's Day, and she's having a bit of fun. Making me chase around, trying to figure out why this letter showed up in the mail after I'd long forgotten the query. It's a tough job, being an agent, and there's probably not much jollity amidst all the rejections. Always up for the messing, those hard-working agents.

In The Balance

"Battle of the Somme, 1916 Rising." Paddy weighed his options. Easter Monday was fast approaching and he had to choose one commemoration or the other.

Hundreds of young Irishmen, out of work and with no hope, had signed on during the Great War. Not out of patriotism, to be sure, but those lads had no other way to support their wives and children, their aged grandparents, or their siblings. It was the same as all the other boys who went Over There; they were slaughtered like so much cannon fodder. Should a modern Irishman join in the marching and parading to commemorate the Battle of the Somme, to honor his fellow countrymen who fell to no good purpose?

On the other side of the scale, Paddy looked at the Rising. He wanted to believe that Ireland would never have been a nation without a bloody revolt, but the media sages were claiming that the nation would have eventually been separated from English rule. And the uprising was not popular at the time, so what right did Pearse and Connelley have to kill people in the name of some fuzzy ideal? Taking that tack, a man would appear to be bloodthirsty or nearly un-Christian to join in the military parade in Dublin.

"We're not coming," Johnny Bull said, pouting. "Oh, we'll come by to offer a moment of silence for the heroes of the Great War, but that 1916 business was a terrorist act and we'll not toast your murderous ancestors."

Being shunned by the neighbors was enough to send Paddy's scale to tipping. He wanted those all around him to think that he was a level-headed pacifist. The Battle of the Somme was gaining favor.

"What's the big deal?" Cousin Jonathan piped up. "Hell, we have fireworks and parades and more speeches than you can shake a stick at on the Fourth of July."

Becoming an independent nation was something to celebrate, Paddy had to agree. The only difference that he could see between Ireland's planned festivities and the Fourth of July notion was minor, but significant. In America, the citizens celebrated the paper that declared them free. In Ireland, it was all about the fighting, the gallant signers of the Proclamation and their futile battle against the mighty British Empire. The Yanks never talked much about their own futile battles, but they prattled on and on about the Declaration of Independence.

"Well?" Johnny Bull said. "What are your plans for April? I have to make reservations in advance if I'm to get a decent room."

"Let's remember our dead, even if they died for a cause that we don't believe in these days," Paddy said. "And we'll have a grand parade on Easter Monday. 'Tis all about the piece of paper, more than the guns and bullets. Independence without a war? Jesus, you've only to look at the North to see what we'd be without the fighting of 1916."

One last time, Paddy tested the weight of his two choices. Battle of the Somme, Easter Rising, Battle of the Somme, Easter Rising...the scale leveled off as the celebrations balanced.

Shall I Compare Thee To a Summer's Day?

Tony Blair has recently made a good point about the extremists who call themselves Muslim - those who murder with abandon are not true Muslims at all. He then went on to compare the Islamo-Nazi to the Ulster Protestant who kills Catholics, noting that such folk were certainly not Christian.

"But unfortunately he is still a Protestant bigot. To say his religion is irrelevant is both completely to misunderstand his motive and to refuse to face up to the strain of extremism within his religion that has given rise to it," Blair was quoted in the media.

And there, in the background, jumping up and down in a fury is a Protestant from the Six Counties, pointing an accusing finger at the Catholics who created the IRA. That's character assassination, that is, comparing the Protestants to the murdering thugs of the Taliban.

To be a Protestant is to be a loyalist. After all, the Free Presbyterians firmly believe that the Catholic Pope is the Anti-Christ, and surely there's no bigotry there, to refuse to share power with Anti-Christ disciples. Has Mr. Blair forgotten his history? What of the cries of "Rome Rule" when Home Rule was first discussed in the 1880's? That cannot be bigotry, not when it sounds like so much logical, practical thinking. Better safe than sorry, and if the Catholics would renounce their Pope and be more Protestant, things would be so much easier.

Where's the similarity between a loyalist killer and a Muslim suicide bomber? The thugs who detonated car bombs in Dublin and Monaghan did not sit in the cars that were loaded with explosives. Right there is further proof that Tony Blair has gone too far in his analogy.

As for bigotry, there is no bigotry in marching through Catholic neighborhoods, flags and banners waving and drums beating to celebrate the Protestant defeat of Catholics hundreds of years ago. No bigotry whatsoever in fighting for the rights of Protestants to march wherever they please, when they please to take their march to the front doors of the Catholics. What Tony Blair mistakes for bigotry is nothing more than Ulster Scots culture. How can he compare Protestant loyalist culture to Islamo-Nazism?

How can he compare loyalist thugs to Muslim thugs without mentioning the IRA? That is the comparison that was lacking, and that is the source of the loudest complaints. The loyalists feel that they are under siege, ignored by London and coveted by the Irish Republic. They know that their political culture is thoroughly infused with the religion that Ian Paisley invented to rationalize hatred of Catholics, but who wants to be reminded? Point some fingers over there, at the IRA, Paisley Jr. seems to say, and take the glare of the bigotry spotlight off the DUP and the Protestant loyalists who are driven by religious sectarianism, just like the Muslim extremists.

They're all after the same thing, in the end. They want power.

R.I.P. John McGahern

Writer John McGahern died suddenly last night. His memoirs were recently published, and one has to wonder if he sensed the end was coming.

His first novel, The Dark, was published in 1965 and was promptly banned by the Irish Censorship Board. Mr. McGahern, a teacher, was fired from his position at the order of Archbishop McQuaid, and he left Ireland for ten years, seeking the freedom of expression that the country was sadly lacking.

Most of his books are inspired by the rural life that he knew as a boy, growing up without a mother. Beautifully crafted, they are well worth reading. His last and best novel, That They May Face the Rising Sun, is on my stack of books to be read. I'll be moving it to the top of the pile. A great voice is gone, and who will take his place?

Cop On

There's a new literary agency out there - and I know all about it because they contacted me. I keep a page on Publisher's Marketplace, although I don't know why because there's nothing on it except name and e-mail addy, which must be how they found me. But I digress.

This exciting new start-up is located in the heart of the publishing industry. Or at least that part of the industry that is centered on Clinton, Indiana. Ah, now, and since when did physical location matter? Internet access, phone, fax, why, New York is as close as the computer these days. And I'm sure that Clinton, Indiana is a fine town. They have post office boxes there, and that means something.

"We have had to cut and edit our own stories,and in the end,when we have taken the stubborn scene that we know needs to be there to add the depth the story needs and finally decide to discard it, we appreciate the tough decisions necessary to raise our work from good, to better, to great, to a published final text."

That's truly inspirational, that is. Most of the message seems to have something to do with editing, which is not what I want from a literary agent. What a new agent must have are contacts in the publishing world. They could be former editors, they could be junior agents from established firms going out on their own, but a literary agent has to be connected to the publishing world.

And what of our friend Mark Straley? Let's see here.

"It is my belief that only writers can help other writers perfect their art,and this belief has led me to the personnel in this agency. The editors of this agency, our first readers, and yes, the founder too, are all writers."

Lovely, there, Mark, but, em, are they published writers? Oh, and, about the agency's editors. I've been searching for a literary agent for a while, and agencies have literary agents on staff, not editors. I apologize if I'm misunderstanding your company's mission. Are you a literary agency? Or are you a paid editing service?

"Writers in the Sky Literary Agency comply with The Association of Writers’ Representatives, Cannon of Ethics."

Fire away with that cannon, Mark, and blow away the literary world. But, just who are the Association of Writers' Representatives? I've heard of the Association of Authors' Representatives, and they're quite the legitimate group. Does your writers' representatives association have any links with the National Rifle Association? Just wondering about that cannon, you see. Does a client of Writers in the Sky have to carry a firearm owner's identification card?

There are some who will take the more positive approach and label Mr. Straley a well-meaning but clueless man who will ultimately fail and take his gullible, desperate writers with him. Then there are others, who laugh at the latest incarnation of the literary agency scam. We're convinced that he'll fleece the unsuspecting with his so-called editing services, and whether he tries to submit manuscripts to publishing houses or not, his clients will never get published by a legitimate house. Sorry, but a vanity press does not count as a publishing credit.

Looking for an agent? You've been warned, so cop on and steer clear of the scamming sharks that are swimming in the waters. They smell unpublished writers' blood.

Clean Up In Aisle Nine

What does it take to get published? A good manuscript? A fantastic, perfect manuscript? You know yourself that won't get you anywhere in today's world. So, what do you need to do? Go to Wal-Mart.

A college student, and aspiring writer, came up with a story idea that involved spending Spring Break at Wal-Mart, which is certainly a cost-cutting methodology for the budget-minded. "I just intuitively thought, 'This is brilliant!'" his professor has been quoted as saying. What more incentive would a young man need than a professor's approval and the chance for an A in the class. It beats spending a small fortune traveling to Cancun or South Padre Island.

The teacher must have genuinely thought the idea was brilliant, because she contacted the local newspaper and the story started to roll from there. Someone from Penguin got wind of it, and the next thing you know, our aspiring writer has an agent calling him, no query, no synopsis, no nothing beyond aspirations.

The writing's on the wall, clear block print in Courier 12 point font. Aspiring writers the world over will be loitering in Sam's Club, Costco, Target, Super K-Mart, Sears, J.C. Penney, and the really clever ones will move into the neighborhood furniture mart. Before long, we'll be swamped with stories about 'Tuesdays with Sam' or 'My Dinner with Target' as would-be writers slug it out for publicity and an agent's attention.

Can the lad write a cogent sentence? Go on with you, as if that would matter. Mr. Skyler Bartels, a product of Nebraska's writing colony, is on his way, while you're searching the local mall for the best place to make camp for your personal publicity campaign. Super size me, indeed.

Let Them Eat Croutons

Those French sure know how to throw a party. Not just a small gathering, but a huge street fest is underway in Paris. Young people, college students, union hacks...it's a veritable slice of Parisian society, or at least that part of society that would lose out if the government has its way.

"We have to defend the rights that were won by our ancestors and which the current government is trying to take away," some news sources are quoting a student of literature who was protesting on the Left Bank. Hey, if the ancestors were so blind to the fall-out of their schemes, why should the young be forced to endure the bruises of their stumbling? Defend the status quo, all you students. Liberty, equality, fraternity, and don't ever change a thing. Say, is there an economics major among you?

The idea of state-sponsored welfare as practiced in France is not sustainable because it is so horrifically expensive. Labor laws that were put into place to protect the downtrodden are having a rather unpleasant side effect, but the people most likely to suffer during treatment are the ones least willing to make the sacrifice for the good of the nation. Employers won't hire young people because they can't dump the nitwits and goof-offs. By protesting, the students imply that they want the right to be nitwits and goof-offs but still keep a job. With unemployment in double digits, you'd think they could figure out that they're losing out in the long term.

Any economist could tell the youngsters that their country can no longer compete with the world because of outmoded socialist laws. High unemployment of young workers, decreasing productivity and climbing costs of pensions and health care will break the French bank, and all the protests in the country will do nothing to fix things when the economy tanks. The Celtic Tiger came to Ireland when the old economic models were dropped and capitalism was encouraged - it's a lesson for the protesters, one they don't want to learn. Plus ca change?

Kielbasa Wars

Haven't I heard this before? Polish parishioners, Irish clergy, at loggerheads over who's in charge - oh, wait, no, that was about one hundred years ago. Must be time for the battle to flare up again.

According to a front page article in the Chicago Tribune, the Irish-American archbishop of St. Louis is trying to force the Polish-American parishioners of St. Stanislaus Kostka parish to cede control of the parish finances to him. It's been tried before, and Chicago's bishops waged the same war at the close of the nineteenth century. Seems the Polish Catholics like to keep their own hands on the purse strings, and wise bishops have backed off and let it go. But, having forgotten his history lessons, Archbishop Burke is determined to bring the rebels to heel.

He took away their priests, so they brought in their own. He threatens to excommunicate the lot of them, claiming schism and other theological crimes. And what do the blessed Catholics of St. Stan's have to say? Just that their archbishop wants control of their facilities so that he can sell them to pay off the claims stemming from sex abuse convictions.

How does our holy man take to that? Why, as you'd expect, of course. He tells the people to obey him or face eternal damnation. Hello there, Father? Did you not hear? Or do you think it's none of their business, those people who paid every week to build and then maintain the parish and school? Or do you think you don't have to listen? Pass off their complaints with claims that they're looking to institute a democracy in the organization of the Catholic Church, and you don't need to pay attention to what they're really saying.

The Archbishop calls on his flock to pray, pay and obey, which is undoubtedly the same tactic used by Archbishop Mundelein about ninety years ago in Chicago. The Polish parishioners that Mundelein attempted to rein in had the same issues as today's congregation in St. Louis. The stockholders want to keep control of the finances. They're not looking to tell you what prayers to use, what gospel they'd like on Sunday next, or even what brand of Communion wine they prefer.

Management has made a mess of the Catholic Church, with its utter bungling of the sex abuse crisis, leading to financial ruin and bankruptcy of more than one diocese. The good people of St. Stanislaus Kostka have made a stand. The suits in the corner offices will not be allowed to liquidate assets to salvage the corporation, given their apparent inability to solve the problems that led to insolvency. The stockholders of St. Stan's are not about to hand over their hard earned facility, paid for by their own labor and contributions, to a corporation that has proven to be fiscally irresponsible. To salvage their Church, they will manage the money, and let the priests manage the souls.

No one is looking to replace Archbishop Burke with a president or a prime minister. They will listen to his teaching, as long as he confines his topics to the Word of God. As for his opinions on matters of money, well, there is that story about Jesus booting the money-changers out of the temple. And Our Lord did not recommend that they be replaced with a House of Representatives.

Free Gift Without Purchase

Generous man, that Al Zuckerman of Writers House. Not only did he send me a form rejection for my query, but he graciously included a tri-folded, glossy printed brochure to purchase his book. He's a prince among literary agents, to give me the opportunity to buy his tome for only twenty dollars, and it's hardcover I'll have you know.

Now, for twenty dollars, it's cash or check only. No credit card transactions allowed, not for such a reasonable price. And send the money directly to Writers House. Can we assume that they get a cut of the action?

One of Mr. Zuckerman's clients, Ken Follett, has written the blurb in the brochure, praising his agent for helping him to craft marketable work. Unfortunate Mr. Follett, being British, was making all sorts of mistakes, writing things suitable for the U.K. that were not American enough to be published across the pond. That is, until Mr. Zuckerman took the lad under his wing and the rest is literary history.

How could a budding author not wish to purchase such a reference manual? Even Nora Roberts, who's no slouch in the writing world, is quoted on the back side of the mailing, lauding Mr. Zuckerman's written advice. As an advert, it's brilliant.

Just the same, I'll pass, alas. According to his biography, Mr. Zuckerman published two novels, and won a drama award in 1964. Sort of implies that he knows the market of forty years gone. Not only that, but he must be knowledgeable in the self-publishing market. Don't the vanity presses encourage their victims to send out mailings? Mr. Zuckerman's done them one better - he's sending out ads and the postage is paid by the recipient, his target audience. Brilliant man - but not the type I'd like for an agent. Besides, he looks like the sleazy milkman on Father Ted.

Not a Bad Day For a Thursday

All in all, it could be worse. Scott Hoffman at Folio Lit. rejected a query and Lois at Ashley Grayson's agency isn't interested either. When Byrd Leavell left Venture Literary for the Waxman Agency, I figured my query there was a wash-out, but wasn't I surprised to get a request for a partial from Mr. Scatoni? In one envelope and out another.

Looks like the good people at Kneerim & Williams work by committee. I sent a query and sample chapters to Jill Kneerim, who seemed the best fit for the manuscript. Today, two months later, I received a rejection in the mail. Apparently, the partial was handed over to Brettne Bloom, another agent who reps fiction, and I heard back from Melissa Grella.

Interesting to note that the manuscript was turned down because it did not garner 'unanimous support' which this agency requires. Maybe some people liked it but others did not, and so it becomes a pass. Another telling point is Ms. Grella's mention of the agency's 'caution about representing first fiction' because of competition. It made me wonder if agents sometimes go off on their own because they don't have as much say as they would like in who they can take on.

As for the reason for rejection, I get it. I've heard it before, and I'm working on it, but acquiring some sort of publishing credit ain't easy. What editor could Kneerim & Williams approach without being able to add 'previously published in Stellar Literary Magazine'? So you thought that writing your novel was hard? Getting publishing credits is even more work.

They'll not be rid of me so easily as that. I'll keep at it, and sooner or later, I'll win. Persistence is more the name of the game than talent.

Study the Market

Somewhere I ran across a review of Margarettown by Gabrielle Zevin. Must have been memorable, because I can't remember where I found it or what the reviewer said. When I found the book on the shelf at the local library, I picked it up. What better way to study the market than to read something worthy of review?

Before I finished the first fifty pages, I knew what was going on. I only finished the novel to prove myself wrong. Surely no one over the age of sixteen would think this was worth publishing? Then again, I was never a pot head myself, so the circular ponderings of existential thought never captured my sober imagination. I'll stick to a wee drop of the cratur, thank you very much, and ponder the bottom of the glass.

Not to spoil it for anyone, but, Jesus Christ Almighty, 291 pages of some dope-infused deep thoughts that are painfully shallow? 291 pages of silliness that must have been written in AP English? Not the right book to pick up after re-reading Willa Cather and Henry James, I'd say.

I fear it's another case of someone with credentials being taken on because they have credentials. The author is listed as a screenwriter and novelist, so this is not the first time Ms. Zevin has been published. The writing was good but the story was puerile - but take my thoughts with a grain of salt, because I can't tolerate fantasy or science fiction. I'm too hard-bitten to enjoy anything but reality, like the reality of getting a novel published. I'll drink to that.

Why Rob a Bank?

There's money to be made in County Roscommon. It is said that Eastern Europeans are flocking to Ireland in search of prosperity, and here's proof that they've found it.


"Damian Dychtanowicz (28), of no fixed abode, was sentenced to two weeks imprisonment yesterday for begging at the Sacred Heart church on Abbey Street." The Irish Times reports.

If a bank robber robs a bank because that's where the money is, what better place for a beggar to beg than in front of a church? Isn't that where the sympathy is? Clever man, Mr. No Fixed Abode, to hold out his hand on St. Paddy's Day, and he made a great success of his start-up company. With profits like that, and Ireland cluttered with one church after another, the man could have made a killing. He was 11,000 euro ahead as it was, although anyone could have told him that it was better to store all that cash in the bank, rather than carry it around in a paper sack.

"Garda Michael Finnegan of Roscommon Garda station told the recent court sitting he had attended 11am Mass when he saw the defendant begging outside the church. He said the man was sitting on the ground with a placard and paper cup and was collecting money."I ordered him to leave the area and he left reluctantly," said Garda Finnegan." according to the article.

Unfortunately, your man being a foreigner worked against him. How was he to know the intricacies of Irish begging protocol? Or maybe he pushed his luck, keeping his one-man shop open beyond closing time and drawing some unwanted attention. Now he's off on a two-week vacation, a fixed abode for a fortnight, but where's he to go after that? Would he qualify for an all-expenses paid trip to Poland?

Is it any wonder that people are too cynical to give a beggar a hand-out? When you see someone on the street, palm open, isn't this exactly what's keeping your hand in your own pocket? If there's no honesty among thieves, there's not much among beggars, and Mr. No Fixed Abode gives the panhandler a very bad name indeed.

Give It To Me Straight

Elisabeth Weed passed on my partial. Full of lovely compliments, she was, but she's not handling much fiction. Problem is, I've heard that same line before, from Melissa Flashman of Trident Media. Has it become the official Trident Media excuse to let the writers off with a gentle hand?

I'm not one to be in need of feeling-sparing. If you don't want it, that's fine. If it's not good enough for Trident's calibre, I can handle it. But I'd rather not hear a break up line that's been passed around the office.

Boilerplate rejections can be frustrating because we all crave some sort of feedback for the effort. In a way, it's worse to be told that one has skill as a writer, but, after asking for a partial on something that was never marketed as anything but fiction, the agent isn't actually looking for fiction. I've been at this long enough to know that she'd take on fiction if I had something to offer that was easy to market, like Harlequin pap, or if I had a string of credentials to hypnotize an editor.

All this querying and rejection is getting boring. If anything, it's a good source of incentive to write something new, so I can start querying all over again. Sooner or later, I'll find someone who wants to listen to my story.

Becalmed

...and floundering in the doldrums. Another Monday, another week begins as the wait continues. There was a time when I was over the moon because Robert Guinsler of Sterling Lord was reading a full. Since then, I have learned not to expect much, not even a reply, because an acceptance or a rejection may not be forthcoming.

When work on the WIP slowed, I tried writing other things to re-charge the old creative batteries. Three short pieces are out on submission, I revised another manuscript, and today I just can't get motivated to go back to the WIP. My brain is distracted by another idea that's been tumbling about, and the research books are sitting in the pile, calling softly.

Watch out! A subject for a bit of non-fiction just climbed out of the darkness. Just a short article, and the research would take me only as far as the county courthouse to pick up some documents and it's only half a day's work and the article would practically write itself, being half-formed in my head even now. Stop! Leave me alone! I must be disciplined. I must finish the novel. I must get the self-doubt out of the way and sit at the desk, pick up the pen, and write. Hush now. No more of that talk, about not being published and how do you know if you're putting the action in the right spot and does the back story belong over there?

If only a wind would blow and I could get started. No more of that. There was a time when sailors would strike up the white ash breeze and row out of the doldrums. I'm off to whip up a Waterman breeze.

Popular Misconception

Annie Proulx has been ranting about the Oscar 'snub' for her story. In an editorial that has been spreading around the globe, she derides the 'conservative heffalump academy voters' who apparently don't know what's what in 'contemporary culture'.

Poor Annie. She's laboring under the popular misconception that '6,000 film industry voters...living cloistered lives behind wrought-iron gates' are responsible. I have many friends in the trades in Hollywood, lads in the trenches who toil behind the scenes and see everything that is going on. 'Tisn't those 6,000 film industry voters doing the voting, Miss Annie.

I've seen films before their release to DVD because a friend was given a reviewer's copy and it gets passed around. From one of the 6,000 it goes direct to one of the 6,000 secretaries. They not only share the films with their friends, but THEY ARE THE ONES WHO VOTE. Out of touch with the 'shifting larger culture and yeasty ferment' you think, Annie? They are the yeasty ferment. They don't live behind gates, they live in cramped little apartments, in the midst of all that ferment, across the hall from a gay couple who are going on about their ordinary lives. Their bosses give them the tally when it's Oscar time and tell them to take care of it, just like they tell them to send a letter or call a contact.

Do you think those hard-working folks give a horse's patoot about the message of Brokeback Mountain ? Did you ever think, in your ivory towered ferment, that they picked Crash because it's an action flick with plenty of comfortable and entertaining stereotypes? Kind of like characters in a John Grisham novel, Annie, and he's selling a lot of copies. Is it trash? I don't like Grisham's style, but I like yours. Unfortunately, I'm not a secretary to one of the 6,000, so my vote doesn't count.

The Annie Proulx diatribe sounds exactly like the diatribes of unpublished novelists who pen beautiful prose that falls into the literary category. Why is Grisham a best selling author while they can't get an agent? Why did Crash take the Oscar? Why do some liberals come across as elitist? The secretaries and the assistants to the 6,000 voted, and they chose entertainment over issues. Isn't there enough competition for decent men these days? It's not entertaining to realize that there's even more competition out there, from other men.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Time to share the family recipes:

White Soda Bread
4 cups plain flour
1.25 tsp. bread soda
.75 tsp. salt
2 cups buttermilk

Yes, that's all that's needed - no raisins, no butter, no nothing. These aren't scones we're making here.

Preheat the oven to 400 F (gas 6). Sift together the dry ingredients. Add enough buttermilk to make a moist dough. Form the dough into a ball (or make two smaller loaves). Mark the top with an X to keep the loaf from exploding in the oven. As soon as you've got it mixed, you have to bake it. The chemical reaction between the soda and the buttermilk creates the air bubbles, and you want to catch the first stages of gas formation for a proper loaf.

Put the dough on a greased baking sheet, slip it into the oven, and bake for 30 - 35 minutes. It's ready when it's golden brown and sounds hollow when tapped.

Serve warm with plenty of butter (Kerrygold, of course). Soda bread is only good when it's fresh - after it sits and gets cold, it looses a lot of the taste.

Drown the shamrock in plenty of lager or stout, and you've the makings of a brilliant evening.

About John Hanrahan

Christy Moore wrote a song about John Hanrahan, an Irish farmer who took the Merck drug company to court when their new factory spewed out poisons that killed his cattle. It was a hard slog against the big boys, and apparently it was financially crippling.

Within the past few days, the Agriculture Department confiscated his cattle. The Hanrahan family has been farming in the area for centuries, but it's coming to an end. Fighting to get the money owed him, he seems to have gone broke, unable to buy enough feed for his cattle.

Being a whistleblower, an ant taking on an elephant, takes great courage. It also takes a small fortune. John Hanrahan has lost his animals. We have gained from his victory over the drug company.

Haven't I Seen You Before?

Hollywood is getting ready to deliver us another new film, according to an article in the Irish Times - can't link to it, sorry. You'll have to buy the paper.

Mr. John Moore, born in Ireland but making it big in the big time, was filming his blockbuster in Croatia. Lots of films are done in Eastern Europe these days, simply because it's cheaper. Looking to maximize profits, our boy was grinding out miles of film when the protests erupted.

"Last December, about a week before we were to go to Croatia, the [ alleged] war criminal Ante Gotovina was picked up in the Canary Islands. Part of the deal to get Croatia into the EU was that Croatia would have to hand him over to the war crimes tribunal.

"The Croatian government asked the Catholic Church to help them get people's [ acceptance] and the church's condition was that we be kicked out." Or so Mr. Moore believes. After his sets were vandalized, burned to cinders, he pulled up stakes and took off for the Czech Republic, and eventually he'll be back home to finish off.

What movie could so upset Their Eminences? That most dangerous of films, The Omen, in which the Antichrist makes his appearance as an ambassador's son. Done in 1976, it's been thirty years, and time for the next generation of horror.

We've been given the Dukes of Hazzard, again. Bewitched, again. The Hills Have Eyes, The Pink Panther, The Shaggy Dog, King Kong, The Producers...Christ, I'm getting exhausted. And now, Mr. Moore is trying to stick us with another remake? The people of Croatia aren't having any of it. It wasn't the Catholic Church that wanted the film crew kicked out. The Croatians were doing the world a favor.

Enough of the reruns, give us something new, the Croatian vandals implied. There must be dozens of Croatian screenwriters who would jump at the chance to get their story out there. Unfortunately, the Hollywood moguls would have to - dare I suggest it - take a chance on something that is not tried and true.

All this talk and hand-wringing over the decline in movie going - and they've yet to figure out that people don't want to watch re-runs? Maybe it's time to take a clue from the Croatians and kick the film crews out until they come home with something that isn't so frayed and worn.

Oops I Did It Again

Checking Agent Query every day has become a bit of an addiction. What better place to find a newly hired agent, check snail mail addresses and get a sense of the sort of material an agent represents.

Recently, they listed Simon Green of POM Agency as someone interested in being queried. Looks like I've gone and scared the fella off.

He gets my query letter, and the next thing you know, he's not taking any more queries. Don't send me another, he begs, and the Agent Query site obliges by changing their listing. Not accepting queries anymore, Mr. Green of POM.

Surely his desk was piled high with them, and my missive was the one to set the pile crashing, possibly causing paper cuts and minor bruising. That was five weeks ago, and it must have taken him this long to dig out from underneath and send his updated information to Agent Query. No more, he has had enough. That would possibly explain the lack of a reply - even the sight of a SASE is enough to cause crippling flashbacks to the avalanche of queries.

At the beginning of January I sent a snail mail query to Michelle Wolfson, who is listed as an agent at Ralph Vicinanza's establishment. Much to my surprise, while browsing around yesterday, I found her listed as an agent at Adam Chromy's Artists and Artisans. Since she never replied to my original query, which I guess was the one that drove her to switch agencies unannounced,I e-mailed a new one to her attention. Switch agencies if you like, but sooner or later the queries will find you. How long before Ms. Wolfson tells Agent Query that she's not taking on new clients?

Not My Job

Putting together the packet for the Rosenberg Group was more than I was expecting. First three chapters and synopsis, okay, got it. Manuscript been shopped yet, can understand the concern. Anyone else reading it, again, I know where she's coming from. But an assessment of the book's market?

My bad for concentrating on financial accounting when I picked up that handy little MBA. The other fault I have is that I am not in the publishing industry, so I sure don't know a thing about the market. Jaysus, if I knew that, why would I need an agent?

Ms. Rosenberg asks about the book's strength within its market. That's easy. The book is well-written. Literary without being pointy-headed obscure. Commercial without being hackneyed. Yet all the advice we ever hear is to not toot one's own horn too loudly. Here's a strength for you - no one is wearing Prada, shopping in New York City or whining about how rough things are. No female protagonist in a love-hate relationship with her mother, now there's a real strong point.

I believe that it is the agent's job to categorize the manuscript, to get it in the hands of the appropriate editors. I don't have the knowledge to do that for her. If the writing grabs the agent, I guess she'll offer representation. If not, all the market analysis in the world won't help me get published.

Coming and Going

Don't we all appreciate a speedy response? Jessica Regel received my partial, take one look at it and swiftly decided it was not for her. In about a week, she got back to me on the first three chapters. Her only comment on the rejection letter (about half a sheet of paper) was that it was not right for her list. No editorial suggestions, just a no, but she was quick and it's finished. Hope she wasn't angry about my not being able to grant her an exclusive look.

In the same pile of mail, I found a request for a partial from Barbara Rosenberg. Bizarre how it turns out, that one agent rejects and another asks for material, with their letters crossing my desk at the same time.

Trouble is, I can't remember if I sent some sample pages to Ms. Rosenberg. After Ms. Regel's speedy exit, I'm having some self-doubt about the writing, and I'm tempted to look at the chapters and tweak here and there. Can't very well tweak something that an agent's looked at and liked enough to ask for more. Sometimes I send out queries in a foul mood, fed up with the whole process, and my record keeping is not what it should be. Not the first time. Not the last, I'm sure.

I've been reading The Woodsman's Daughter to get a feel for what's selling. After skimming through the first part, which I forced myself to read because I thought the characters were wooden and the story lacking, I'm beginning to like the middle section. Now, if something like this can make it, I really don't think my manuscript is half bad. The first fifty are going out as is. I like them fine, and I like them better than what I've been reading. Oh, right. What I like to read is not what the big houses like to publish. Could be a bit of a problem here.

The Dead Beats' Society

Sometimes the mail gets lost. Sometimes manuscripts get lost in piles in cluttered offices. But not all these.

Making allowances for the vagaries of the postal service and office personnel, I figured that a follow-up e-mail would clarify the situation. Why didn't the agent get back to me? As wanna-be novelists, we all wonder how long the literary agent is going to take to review the material that we send. For these folks, the answer would be - never.

Matt McGowan at Francis Golden's agency has never responded. Was he able to download the submission? Did he read it? Or is it just another throw-away stab at finding something new? We'll never know, because he ain't talking.

Ethan Ellenberg has a reputation for not responding if the submission is a no - so I guess he did reply, in his own unique way. It's been over a year and I don't expect to ever hear another word from him.

Riley Kellogg over at Jane Lord's office sent me an e-mail when she got the material and claimed that she would get back to me after she'd had a chance to read it. My word, but they must be backlogged. I haven't heard a peep out of her since last April. Too busy to even answer a request to let me know if it's still being considered. You'd never guess agents were so swamped, based on the drivel that's getting published.

Sterling Lord Literistic has an excellent reputation, but I guess that Robert Guinsler doesn't have to deal with writers with no reputation. Did you get the material, there, Robert? Hello? Are you there?

Over at Susan Golomb's firm, Jon Mozes was working as her assistant when he asked for a partial manuscript last May. Since he does not answer my e-mail, I have to wonder if he's still there, or if anyone is picking up the slack.

As writers, we gnaw our fingernails down to bone as we fret and wait to hear back. The fact that some agents never get back to the writers might give one pause. Then again, isn't there always that outside chance that the manuscript being submitted is the one - the best thing since Gone With The Wind, only better?

Tearstains On His Pillow

Poor, poor Mr. Dubay, the victim of vile treachery. So trusting, and now, so betrayed.

It's not fair at all, at all. Now, if he had only paid more attention to his biology classes, but it's too late. He's learned the lesson. And he doesn't like it. But he can't change it.

When in the name of God did sex have anything to do with procreation, he might ask. It's all for fun, like drinking a pint when a man's thirsty. He was merely recreating, and he trusted his female conquest when she said she was using contraceptives. (Quiet there, ladies, I hear you snickering. What man hasn't used a similar line, about being careful and you won't be up the stick?) The unfortunate Mr. Dubay could have worn a hat, but condoms dull the experience, and it's all about his pleasure after all. He was duped, and now he's supposed to pay.

Human biology is a sly and devilish thing. First, the human will preserve itself, and so Mr. Dubay was no doubt eating when hungry and drinking when thirsty, washing his hands to avoid infections and so on. After the human has taken care of self-preservation, however, it's time to preserve the species, and that's where the problem lies. For years, thanks to contraceptives, the link between sex and pregnancy has been altered, and a man can easily forget his biology lessons when the drive to preserve the species takes hold.

Life is not fair. Some people have long legs and can slam dunk. Some are short and uncoordinated. Women can have babies. Men cannot. A lawyer, a judge, a court cannot re-write the laws of biology to correct the basic inequality.

As for trusting his partner to handle birth control, has Mr. Dubay ever heard the adage, 'If you want it done right, do it yourself'? Hope you had a grand time making the baby, lad. Now it's your responsibility to look after it.

Another Agency Gone

News flash - or at least it was news to me today. Graybill & English is no more.

Jeff Kleinman left recently to join Folio Lit, and the ladies Graybill and English have split, it would appear. Anyone looking for Kristen Auclair can click on a link that goes to her e-mail address. Lynn Whittaker is listed as not taking on new clients, with no notice as to her whereabouts or future plans.

Elaine English has set up her own company, and Nina Graybill continues as a literary agent to the credentialed (that means don't bother with the query unless you're published) with a very basic website.

Hard to say if Kleinman made for the exits to seek new adventures, or if he saw the writing on the wall and got out before the lights were turned out. It seems hard to believe that he was the key to the agency, and it could not go on without him.

Not wishing to take sides in the divorce, I sent an e-query to Ms. English because I am very much not credentialed. Old agent, new agency - who could resist hitting the send key?

The Merry Pranksters

Always up for the messing, those college lads. Here the FBI was worried that some racists or terrorists were on the loose in Alabama, burning Baptist churches in an orgy of hatred. Turns out it was all a bit of fun.

Funny, funny joke, to set fire to a church or two or five. As it turns out, a couple of the arsonists are theatre majors, and don't we all feel less than cool to not get the point of their performance art pieces. Making a statement about the boredom of life for today's young adult, is that it?

The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test has met the modern era. The Merry Pranksters are roaming the great state of Alabama in an SUV, purchased by Mummy for use by her prankster son. Is it the lad's fault that Volkswagen stopped manufacturing their bus? What's a man to do, when he can't drive the prescribed vehicle? Re-think the image, of course, and what the Volkswagen bus was to Ken Kesey's crew, the SUV has become for the firebrands of Alabama. There they were, driving about, lighting fires and having a good laugh at the expense of the establishment.

Boys will be boys. How could any court convict such delightful pranksters? Surely the courtroom will ring with laughter as the three arsonists relate their merry adventures, and perhaps Tom Wolfe could write about them.

Is It a Comedy?

Last night's Oscar telecast was, as is typical, sometimes dull and sometimes funny. This year I actually took the time to watch parts of it because I had not seen one of the movies up for awards, and did not even know the plots of some of them. Assuming that the clips that would be shown would be selected to highlight the best aspects of the film, to entice Middle America to go to the show, I paid attention.

Brokeback Mountain is hysterically funny, based on the segment that I saw last night. Mr. Ledger's character came across as mildly mentally handicapped in his delivery of a few lines. Sometimes dialogue that works in a story, a part of a larger picture that includes the character's inner workings, does not translate well on screen.

The cowboys I have met do not fit the John Wayne stereotype, but that is the stereotype that was used. Somehow, using a stereotype to break away from another stereotype makes the whole thing lean towards parody rather than serious stuff. Listening to Mr. Ledger ponder 'this thing' made me chuckle. He sounded like the partner's second cousin, the one who was always described as being 'a little slow.'

Rather than sit in a movie theater, laughing, I'll read the short story. Annie Proulx can show better than Heath Ledger can tell - and that's a lesson for any budding novelist.

The Disappearing Website

Surfing the web, I happened to click on a link to Peter Cox's agency, Redhammer, and was directed to a pay-to-join site that he was - or is - associated with. Litopia is some sort of forum for writers, and used to be linked with the webpage for Redhammer.

How very bizarre for the Redhammer Agency's site to morph into Litopia. When Mr. Cox says he does not want any unsolicited queries, he's not kidding. Troubled by people sending him submissions, which the website was set up to accept, he has disappeared into the ether. Does this mean that his agency is no longer in business? He has a page on Publishers Marketplace with his address, but the link to his website goes to Litopia, and it ain't free.

There's more than one way to make a buck (few quid), and charging fledgling writers for one's bon mots may bring in the rent money. It's possible that he has switched gears and gone off into a more prosperous sideline. At any rate, if you missed the Redhammer website when it was up and running, you're too late to see it now. The flying angel that once graced the header must have flown off into the sunset.

UPDATE - March 11, 2006

Have the hackers been at it, or what? Redhammer's website is once again up and running, with the link to submit back in action. Still don't know if Mr. Cox is accepting submissions, or if the submission link goes to some black hole where the letters are sucked in and become anti-matter.

The Great Adventure Looms

My father-in-law is dying. This afternoon, I went to say goodbye and watched as he gasped for breath, fighting against the pneumonia that is going to kill him. Dying is a hard thing to do, to let go and set off on the last adventure into the unknown. He battles the weight of his chest, filling his lungs with effort and then sliding into periods of breathing so shallow that he does not seem to inhale.

Hour by hour, the episodes of apnea will increase. Within days, he will stop breathing, but it will happen with such stealth that we will not notice it immediately. We know this is coming. We cannot be prepared for the end.

He will not go gently. He rails against death, but in the end, death always wins. And yet we will not be ready when he finally goes.

If You Can't Beat 'em

The French are so clever. They set the pace in food and fashion, and now they've shown us another way to get ahead.

Who would not love such a father as one who would poison his children's athletic rivals? Lara Marlowe reports from Paris on a case that makes the Texas cheerleader mom seem, sadly, declasse. The poor woman could have ensured her daughter's cheerleading future if she only had the foresight to dose all rivals with sedatives an hour before tryouts. Her little girl would have starred, being the only one who was not nodding off.

Unfortunately for M. Fauviau, he failed to swipe the gentleman's car keys and prevent him from driving while under the influence. But for that tragic error, the Fauviau children could have set French tennis on fire and no one would be any the wiser. Despite his mistake, the doting pere made the grandest of gestures, going that extra kilometer for his offspring.

The fact that Fauviau was a former soldier could trigger a new round of 'cheese eating surrender monkey' satire in some quarters. Is he to be faulted because the French Army does not provide training in poisoning and doping? It's not as if he was in the Special Forces.

Fair play to you, Fauviau. Every parent whose child is involved in sports and competition can relate to your anxiety. Who's to say that another of us might not go just as mad?

Mood Swing

Just as I was feeling like a pariah in the publishing world, I got a mood-lifter.

There are many queries out there, but no one has responded one way or the other when I was hoping to get something. Either agents are seasonal workers, and late winter is the off season, or my name is traveling around the publishing community on some literary agent blacklist. Sort of like the 'Do Not Call' list, only my queries generate a shudder of horror and a quick pass into the circular file.

About once a week, I'll run through the list of sent e-queries, noting the non-responders as a 'no' in my database o' queries and deleting them. The time was coming to clean out the file, and Jessica Regel's name was at the bottom of the pile as the oldest unanswered letter after nine days. Housekeeping duties being a real low priority task, I did not clean up, and Blessed Ash Wednesday but she asked for the first three chapters.

Can't give her an exclusive, but I would if I could. Quite high up on the literary agent food chain, Jean Naggar's agency, but there's a couple of other partials out there and I have to be honest. Tomorrow, the packet goes in the mail, and I hope she understands that I can't grant her exclusivity request. Not that it matters, I suppose, since she's bound to reject the material anyway. Who wants an unpublished author when there's so many with credentials? Why kill yourself selling a manuscript from an unknown when you can approach the editor with a bit of 'won this award, earned an MFA, published in Glimmer Train' and all that jazz?

It was looking like I'd never need the Priority Mail envelopes and stamps that I bought about two months ago. Could it be a sign that the agents are shaking off the winter doldrums and getting up to speed?

The Oranges of O'Connell Street

The parade scheduled for St. Paddy's Day must not be enough to fulfill the Irish love of marching and marching bands. They've taken to inviting in other groups to stir up the soul with invective.

Loyalist Rally

As long as Ireland is welcoming parades of foreign representatives, perhaps it is time for the Ku Klux Klan to march down O’Connell Street. They could take on the role of victim, weeping over their Civil War dead and the few who suffered in the civil rights movement. Surely the people of Dublin would appreciate the great unfairness, the concessions given to black folks and Catholics and Jews, at the expense of the majority. Mr. Donaldson et al. would fit right in, and their orange sashes would provide a lovely splash of color amongst the white robes.

Without doubt, the loyalists have won the Grand Gesture of the Month Award. Taking a page from the KKK, they've adopted the heavy mantle of victimhood and then cannot understand why they are so maligned. Oh Lord, don't let me be understood?


FOLLOW UP:

It must have been a psychic connection that made me realize that Christina Hogrebe had not responded yet - I got the rejection today. Not a word about the writing or anything concrete. She turned it down because she doesn't feel that she could sell it. Close with the usual subjective business, someone else might take to it, but the end of the line has come. Okay, who else can I query at Jane Rotrosen's agency?

Log Book

Another Monday, another day of silence in the mailbox. There are four queries outstanding since 1/30, three outstanding since 2/14, and another four that I sent on 2/23 that have garnered no notice.

A query sent to Kathleen Anderson on 12/2 has not been answered, and after three months, I guess it's time to write it off. Mitchell Waters (Curtis Brown) and Michelle Wolfson (Ralph Vicinanza) have had queries since 1/2, and two months is more than enough time to send the SASE back. Maybe they're waiting on a new intern to stuff the stack of envelopes for the rejects. If there was interest, the agent would have e-mailed by now.

Is Christina Hogrebe still with Jane Rotrosen's agency? She's had a partial for three months and still no word. Oh, of course, it's being shown around the agency because she wants to request the full and has to sell her superiors on the quality of the writing and the freshness of the voice. Paula Balzer at Sarah Lazin Books must be doing the same with the partial manuscript I sent her at the end of November.

Time to wake up, dreamer. All five of those e-mail queries that were sent last Wednesday have not garnered a response yet, and that doesn't mean that the literary agent is eager to request more. For the first time, I sent the sample chapter as an attachment, which I believe was okay as per the website instructions. Then again, maybe Michael Adelman deleted the thing unread because it had - gasp - an attachment. Did I misinterpret the submission requirements? Will I ever know? No.

Not to get all existentialist, but I'm beginning to wonder if I do, indeed, exist. No one answers my query letters. Am I sending them? Or do I imagine sending them? Are literary agents a figment of my imagination?

Addendum: Michelle Wolfson was kind enough to post a comment on a later entry - she was between agencies when I queried her. For the record, she is with Artists and Artisans, and she did respond to my e-query - a quick rejection. Probably not right for her list.

My Two Cents

If anyone is wondering about the SASE's they sent before the postal rate increase, I can safely assure them that the post office does not seem to be overly concerned about the two cents due.

I've gotten three rejections that I had written off as 'no reply' back at the end of December (after 2 months, hey, it's done). Just yesterday, I received an old SASE with a 37 cent stamp and my mailman delivered it without any question. Laura Dail must be one busy lady, to take over three months to respond. What would have happened if the Post Office had a problem with insufficient postage? Would the rejection have gone to the dead letter office, or would I have been notified that I owed two cents?

These days, I only have partials out, no fulls, and the fact that I haven't heard back in short order means I won't be getting requests for more. Query on, query on, and then wait, wait, wait. It gives me something to do in between applying coats of paint to the kitchen cabinets and walls. Idle hands and all that.

Rejected Again

Michelle Andelman, a new agent at Andrea Brown's agency, turned me down today with a form rejection. So, can I read between the lines?

"Thank you for the chance to consider your project. Unfortunately, I am unable to offer you representation."

Standard boilerplate sentence there. The answer is no, plain and simple.

"Today's market is a demanding one. We receive hundreds of submissions a year, and can only take on a small percentage of them. I enjoyed reading your pages, but I'm afraid your work just isn't the best match for my agency's representation."

The old 'demanding market' gambit I see. Is this agent-speak for 'I can't sell this'? Then she adds on another reason for rejection, that the work is not right for her agency. Now, since I included a synopsis with the original query, how could she not tell that in the beginning? But, she also enjoyed reading the pages, which leads to the closing paragraph:

"There are many authors whose manuscripts have been rejected, and have then gone on to find the right publisher for their work. In fact, you might say this is a time-honored tradition, and I hope that it will be the case for you."

My take on this? The work did not suck eggs, but she did not get grabbed by the story line. Or, she's just being nice about something that is unpleasant. No matter what she meant, or did not mean, it all boils down to a 'no', and I know what that means.

Yesterday night, I sent Elisabeth Weed the sample chapters that she requested of the same manuscript. The frustration continues.

St. Paddy on the Web

If you've grown weary of green beer and plastic 'Paddy', corned beef served on rye bread, and Tommy Makem's crooning, there's another way to celebrate St. Patrick's Day, courtesy of the Internet.

No need to go to Dublin. As a matter of fact, the Irish celebrate the day by getting out of town, which is overrun with American tourists getting pissed. Even An Taoiseach Bertie Ahern heads for Washington, D.C., to be entertained at the White House. So, stay put yourself and take advantage of the World Wide Web to bring those perfect touches of Ireland to your American home.

A good place to start is with a hearty meal, and Food Ireland can ship the essentials to your door. Corned beef, it turns out, is not the traditional dish. While we cannot import meat and meat products, we can purchase American-made copies of boiling bacon or Irish-style ham, which is as close to the real thing as you can get. Boil up some spuds and a head of cabbage, and you've got a dish of boiled cabbage and bacon, which is pure pub food. Looking to go a step further? You can order a gift basket with everything you need to make a full Irish fry in your own kitchen, from rashers to soda bread and genuine Irish tea. Try not to think about the key ingredient in the black pudding and you'll be fine.

To set the mood, you will need the right sounds, and the easiest way to pretend that you are in a cottage in the West of Ireland is to click on RTE,Ireland’s public service radio site. Four different stations are carried on a live stream, including a channel that broadcasts exclusively in the Irish language. RTE’s Radio One has a varied assortment of news, talk, music and sports. Should the evening drag on, you can tune in to Des Cahill and his sports call-in show, to drive your guests away with the inanity of Chicago’s 670 The Score wrapped up in a thick brogue.

Prefer music playing in the background? You can find a wide selection at Irish Music Mail,
the order site for a music shop in Bray, County Wicklow, and they will ship to your door via An Post. Should your tastes run from traditional to rock, you might like to try the new release from The Saw Doctors, based in County Galway. Their newest album has just been issued in the U.S., and if you haven’t had enough Irish-ness after March 17, they will be performing at The Vic in Chicago on the 18th. In the event that you reach the end of the evening, the Guinness gone and not a bottle of Harp’s in sight, you can wind down to the soothing sound of Pierce Turner, the legend of Wexford who has a cult following in New York City. Blending folk, jazz and rock with an Irish choir boy twist, his latest album The Boy To Be With is just the thing to close out the day.

On the folk scene, Christy Moore has been around for thirty years, the grand old man of Irish protest songs in the vein of Bob Dylan during the Sixties. Most famous for starting the traditional-rock blend that gave rise to the likes of The Pogues and U2, he continues to record and rail against the Iraq War, George Bush, and injustice in general. Agree or disagree with Moore’s politics, he has a rich voice that carries the smell of a peat fire and the heat of strong whiskey.

Need more atmosphere? The Irish Times is available by subscription on line atThe Irish Timesfor terms ranging from a full year to twenty-four hours. While feasting on boiled cabbage and bacon, you could amaze your guests with your knowledge of current events, Irish-style. With facts at your fingertips, you can open a discussion about devolution in the North, and encourage your dinner guests to debate the merits of Sinn Fein in coalition with Fianna Fail. If Des Cahill’s sports talk did not clear the room, they will get the hint and flee, leaving you to a wee drop in peace, with Pierce Turner crooning on the stereo.

Second Time Around

Out of curiosity, or maybe spite, I sent queries on Manuscript #2 to some agents who have partials since last year on Manuscript #1. Not surprising, Julia Lord not only failed to get back to me on the partial manuscript she's had since last March, she does not reply to queries via e- or snail-mail. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I'd guess that she's just too busy - or her assistant quit and she doesn't even know what's piled up in the office.

Susan Golomb has had a partial since May, and again, no response. I sent her a snail-mail query at the end of January and got a rejection today. Well, she's alive, or her assistant is still breathing. Not a word about the three sample chapters I sent nearly a year ago, but the rejection was addressed to me so someone is working in her office, cutting and pasting and stuffing SASE's. The onerous task of writing up a rejection must be beyond the reach of said assistant, and so I will never know why. I do know, however, that the answer is obviously no.

Sally Wofford-Girand at Brickhouse Lit is another no responder. I was originally contacted by her assistant, Kate McKean, who is now an agent at Dystel & Goderich, so I guess that's a full manuscript down the drain. Sally doesn't respond to my queries, and that's the end of that. Another agent off the list, and she's got to be glad of that.

Getting back to writing, focusing on short stories, I've found some relief from the query fever. If only I had the time to write. Tomorrow is, after all, another day.

And a Player To Be Named Later

Agents are moving all over the place these days. I had sent a query to Sophia Seidner some time ago and never got a reply, but that's to be expected from an e-query. According to Agent Query
, she's with Judith Ehrlich's agency now.

Trouble is, I can't very well send her a query when Martha Hoffman at the same agency is looking at a partial. But not to worry, when the urge to query is overwhelming my fingers. Elisabeth Weed has left Kneerim & Williams and moved on up to the big time at Trident Media. Her e-mail addy? We don't need no addy, not when we can wing it. This morning, I sent a query to eweed@tridentmedia.com, constructed like the other agents' addresses. If it works, it works. Chances are, I'll never know because no answer is a no, just like no answer can mean she never got it.

All this trading sounds like it's pretty rough to go it alone as a literary agent. Sophia is listed on Gerard Jones' site under her own business name, a business which apparently is now defunct. Elisabeth Weed, on the other hand, was a rainmaker for her agency, and she took advantage of her talent and bolted for greener fields. Look for Kneerim & Williams to bring someone up from the minors.

Miss Me?

So I go away for five days and come back to check my e-mail, hoping that one of the agents who have my partial manuscript have sent word - any word, Jesus Christ Almighty, just get back to me.

The e-mail I've been using has been picked up by a spammer somehow, and I had 26 messages. Yes, I did hear back from one agent. Amy Rennert let me know that she was rejecting my query, two months after it was sent. Well, I kinda figured it was a no after a week or so, and I wrote it off back then.

I really want to hear from people who are reading the manuscript, and I want an e-mail. The rejections might show up tomorrow when the mailman brings the post, and since no one sent me an e-mail, I'm pretty much expecting some bad news. Those unfolded #10 SASE's are a sure sign that the game is up.

There are those who may never respond, like Peter Cox at Redhammer. According to his web site, he claims that he responds in four weeks, but it's been well over six and there's been nothing. Maybe he'll re-do the info and add the caveat "if interested in pursuing representation" and no one will have to be left dangling, wondering if he ever got the submission. What if his virus filter went off and he deleted the attached file that he asked for? I don't like mysteries, which is why I don't read them and I don't write them either.

Presidents Day is over, the holidays are done, and I have to sit down and work on the WIP, the short story WIP, and finish up the research on the other WIP that's being formed in my tired aul' brain.

Gone Away

Is there anything quite so intriguing as politics? According to news sources, a jail guard at Cook County's Department of Corrections helped six inmates to escape - for political reasons. Seems the guard is supporting the opposition and wanted to embarrass the current frontrunner, a man hand-picked by current sheriff Mr. Sheahan.

Brilliant idea, that, to spring murderers and thugs for political gain. Fortunately, all were caught, what with their distinctive khaki garb pretty much making them easier to spot on the streets. My literary mind sees a John Grisham novel in the making here, for some odd reason. Or perhaps it could be filed in the "stupid criminal tricks" folder. A grand gesture on the part of the jail guard - we salute you.

Off to tour college campuses (campi?) for the long weekend - but not before sending out a reworked query to three agents who said no before. New query, new title, and probably the same old response, but won't it be grand to find some rejections in my mail when I get back? Nothing says welcome home like a form letter - and I am sure that the literary agents who have partials now will still not get back to me.

I Forgot

When I picked up the day's mail, I was as shocked as could be to find an invitation-sized envelope from Kneerim & Williams. Before I even opened it, I checked my list of outstanding queries, but it was not there. I had forgotten to update the list when last I sent out query letters, two weeks ago.

The preprinted card was sent to let me know that they had received the submission and would need a month or two to review the material. It was the first time that I ever got a card like that from them, which makes me think that either the previous submission was lost, or they have a new assistant who is very organized.

Nice to know that they have the packet, all the same. I guess that the other five queries that I sent on the same day must have arrived as well. By keeping busy with writing short stories and researching another WIP, my little brain's been rather too full to dwell on submissions. Most likely, I was obsessed with checking e-mail before because I did not have a good long stretch of time to write.

Thanks much, Kneerim & Williams, and I hope that when next we communicate, it will be to ask for the balance of the manuscript. In the meantime, I will get back to the revisions on another manuscript so that I can fire off a pile of queries when my creative juices run dry. But first, better check the e-mail one more time.

Shorts

Sending off another short story to a literary magazine, and I've got the old feeling of complete confidence. A little of the old 'how could they not publish this, it's that good' line of thinking. Now, after getting shot down so often on novel-length queries, one might think this is madness. It is.

Having never before tried to write short fiction, outside of English class, I'm as much a newbie as I was with the first queries. What goes on the cover letter? Don't really know and can't get much in the way of suggestions, so I wing it and hope for the best. Why should a short be any different than a full? Read the first few lines, and the editor makes a snap decision. Same idea, shrunk down in size - like sending a partial only there's nothing more to be requested. It's up or down with a literary magazine submission.

Supposedly, I should hear back in a matter of months. I'm getting to like short pieces. They keep the mind occupied and well away from the drudgery of agent querying. Besides, a new source of rejection should make life more interesting.

Another Fix

Can't stay away, no matter how hard I try. A new agent at Andrea Brown's agency appeared on Agentquery.com this morning, and I gave in to the urge to query. God help me, but I couldn't resist.

Kristin Nelson has a blurb on her blog about the death of "chick-lit", which implies that the more annoying parts of the genre have gone on to their reward, leaving the reader hungry for more substance. My manuscript fits the bill, don't you know, with its heroine not sleeping around and chasing men. Ah no, she is the prey. If all the young ladies were blackbirds and thrushes, all the young men would go beating the bushes.

So, I query and get a request for the first three chapters - and I can file electronically - all in the same day. The requested material is off in cyberspace, and now I wait again. Somehow, sending a manuscript as a Word file does not carry the same level of anxiety as a ream of paper tumbling through the post office sorting machines. Not having spent any money on the process, I don't feel that anything will come of it - more like an agent browsing to see what slush is out there.

A note to my loyal readers (yes, both of you) - Pierce Turner is officially releasing his newest album, The Boy To Be With, and kicking things off with a show at Joe's Pub in New York City on Saturday, 28 Jan. 2006. Always a good time, if you're in New York.

No Pictures Please

We're quakin' in our boots here. Jesus, Mary and Holy Saint Joseph, there's drawings of the Prophet Muhammad on display and they'll be after us next. You'd think that the Moslems would be okay with it, seeing as it was one of their own who illustrated the manuscript in the first place.

The way I understand it, an Iranian Moslem painted an image of "himself" and his daughter's partner Ali, holy flaming haloes all around their heads. Given that he did the deed in 1595, I'd guess that it was acceptable to create images of you-know-who. Not that I understand everything about the different sects, but I have a suspicion that the artist was Shia, and it's the Sunni element that is hard-core against the pictures. Funny that, because it's the Shia who come across as die-hard fundamentalists.

In our society, the illustrated manuscript is a piece of history and a piece of art. We aren't offended by images of the human form, although Renoir's later nudes were not exactly attractive. However, because one group doesn't do something that we do, we are supposed to stop doing it. Excuse me?

Riots sprung up in Australia because the Moslem lads took offense at the scantily clad bathing beauties, causing the local boys to explain Australian norms in a very violent way. We don't want fights on every street corner, but we don't want to be told to alter our way of life or risk beheading. George Bush might have it right. The war against Islamo-Nazis is indeed global.

Memo to Bill Ford

Recently, Bill Ford called for suggestions to improve sales at Ford Motor Company. Although some analysts question the concept of ‘Buy American’, I for one would recommend that this be used as a selling point. I do want to spend my money where it will benefit my neighbors. Better that the profits are stuffed into the pockets of executives who live in this country and pay other Americans to cut their hair or mow their lawn, than send our money overseas to enrich some other nation. Are you with me so far, Bill?

The location of the factory is not enough, however. Let me put it this way. I do not care if Hugo Chavez personally drives up to my house in a Citgo truck, every morning, and fills my tank with gas. For free. And checks the oil. And washes the windows. And brings coffee and donuts for the family. What I would like, Bill, is a car that uses little or no gas. Think hybrids, like the ones that Japan has been producing while Ford was busy making SUV’s with high profit margins. Anything going on with hydrogen cell-powered cars? Henry Ford gave us the cheap vehicle that revolutionized our way of life. Can you take a page from his book, Bill, and revolutionize the way we power our vehicles?

What do you say, Bill? How about a little innovation? People want to cut back on fuel consumption to reduce greenhouse gases. Others want to stick it to the whack-jobs that control the foreign oil fields. Doesn’t that just about cover every driver in America, Bill? Give the consumer what they want. That’s all it takes to sell more cars and make a profit.

Query Jones

There's pretty much no one left to query anymore. I need a fix, the sort of rush that comes with sending off the query letter. The anticipation, the dread; I have to have it but I'm out of marks.

The short story work is plodding along - not enough time to focus on the words and put cogent sentences together. The main distraction comes from waiting, as I wait on the last few remaining queries and partials that continue to dangle in the air.

Thank the literary gods for the blog and its many functions. I can compose little bits of fiction and save them as drafts, hidden away where prying eyes cannot find them. Today, I must write a few more sentences. It is the only thing that keeps me from fretting into an ulcer about the fate of my current submissions.

Lack of Progress Report

Batch of rejections received, as to be expected on a Monday. Tamar Ellman of Laura Dail's agency does not want the rest of the manuscript - Katie's story reads like so many women of her era, she says. I hear the sounds of 'heard it before' as in the story is not fresh and new.

There was a day when I could look over my list of partials and fulls out to agents and feel confident that I had a lot of agents looking at my work. Today, I'm down to three, and not feeling positive about those. I should have heard back by now, if there was any interest.

In an attempt to get some kind of credentials, I sent off a short piece to the Pioneer Press and a short story to McSweeney's. Down about all the rejections, I'm trying to find the heart to write some more and try other literary magazines. I've found a great long list of journals for submissions, but coming up with something is going to be tough.

Slog on - write on - and keep hope alive. Sure thing.

Book Report

There is a recent thread on Absolute Write
that asks the question - is it okay to use word emphasis in dialogue.

Well, students, it's okay if you're Talitha Stevenson, journalist and award short-listed writer. I have tried to read Exposure, her newest novel, but I just could not get past the first seventy-five pages.

The italicized dialogue was really annoying, and it grated on my nerves after a while. I don't appreciate an author telling me how to read their prose. After all, I am possessed of some imagination and I am capable of hearing emphasis in my head as I read.

So, unless one is already published, the answer to the question is no. Once you've gotten your foot in the door and the contract in hand, go for it. Just don't expect me to read it. But, hey, what do I know? I'm not even published myself.

I'm Mister Lonely

I haven't had a request for a partial since the beginning of last month, and I'm feeling lonely...

Things feel quiet in general. No answers back, no requests for more, like I'm the last author left on earth and no literary agents survived the holocaust. I've sent out a couple of e-queries and generated absolutely no interest. Could it be that everyone is busy catching up after the holidays? Should I wait a week or so?

Today, I fired off a 600 word essay to the local paper. The object of the game these days is to get a publishing credit. There's a short story, couple thousand words, that I've been working on and I do believe I'll send it to McSweeney's. Once I get this other new story formed, I'll work on another submission for a literary rag.

Found a good link through the Nebraska Writers Project - a list of literary magazines! Publish something, somewhere, and then try the queries again. I do wonder if my chances will improve if my closing paragraph can include the magic phrase: 'I have been published in ....'

More Bad News

Fair play to Kathryn Green - she is prompt. After asking for a full, she sent a rejection that was not form, but not particularly informative. I would say that she read, or rather skimmed, the opening couple of pages, based on her comments.

She described the heroine as feisty. The very first line of the novel has the female protagonist wearing red to her husband's funeral - not subtle, and Kathryn Green could not miss it. Her next comment, about the set-up of the story, indicated that she had not read much further, or her questions would have been explained. The premise is laid out, again without subtlety, but if a literary agent is not captivated by the writer's voice, why bother to keep going?

As for speedy response time, there are a couple of partials that were requested early in December. Having not heard further, I presume that I will eventually get rejections on those as well. From past experience, I have noticed that a literary agent will respond fairly quickly when they like something, and drag their feet for things that they don't. After all, if one is going to take a pass, what's the rush?

Speed

Well, that sure was quick. In about seven hours, I got a rejection from Scott Hoffman at Folio Lit.

What was so dreadful that he immediately rejected the novel? Did he read the opening line and decide? Did he scroll through and check the bio first? Not published, not even in the press - forget it, he might have said.

And here I was prepared for a couple of month wait. He did not even have to think it over, apparently, since he must have hated MANUSCRIPT from the start. Too busy to offer editorial comment, he said in his form rejection, which must indicate he did not read much at all before deciding. Can't offer editorial comment without reading the stuff first, right?

As much as we all hate the wait, sometimes the instant response is worse.

Agent News

First heard the rumor on Writers Net, and now Scott Hoffman's new agency has a website: Folio Literary


Assuming that a new agency would be hungry for talent, I sent off a query to an e-mail addie that was slightly different from what turned up on the website. Naturally, I copied the query and sent it to the correct address.

Last night, Scott Hoffman answered - both queries. Did he not notice that he read the same thing twice? Was he being polite to not mention that he had received one already, thanks very much? Or was he shooting off a response to everything that came in, suspecting that anyone who had his new addie already must be somewhat on the ball publishing-world wise.

No matter, I sent the requested three chapters, synopsis and bio. All two lines of the bio, since I don't have any credentials. Of course, I put the bio dead last, after the one page synopsis and forty-seven pages of text. Eight weeks from now, I should have some sort of answer.

Bananas

Just like fruit, the rejections come in. Four at once, a lovely bunch of no's appeared on my doorstep today. Am I supposed to be pleased that two of them were actually addressed to me, by name?

Patricia Moosbrugger says she is not taking on much fiction these days - i.e. please don't send me another query (reading between the lines). Ingenious of Faith Hampton Childs to scribble a little note - thanks, but no - and send my letter back to me. Saves gobs of money over the course of year, I would imagine. Except for the cost of the pens, but I suppose if one shops the back to school sales and buys in bulk...

I cannot seem to bring myself to send out another batch right now. In part, I don't have enough quiet time to prepare the query letters and still have an hour or so to work on the current WIP. The days fly by so quickly that I believe I will sit down to a fresh list of literary agents to be approached and be startled to discover that it is already March.

No Reply

This morning, I went through my list of outstanding query letters, snail mail each and every one. A sizeable number of unanswered letters had been sent in early to mid-November, now two months gone, and way past due for a reply.

Given the long Christmas holiday, I am beginning to believe that literary agents come back from the break and toss all those annoying queries, dumped into the trash and never answered. It seems odd that so many letters, all sent around the same time, would all fail to garner so much as a form rejection. Odd, unless most of the agencies in New York pulped whatever was laying around before they left for the holiday hiatus.

Of course, now that postage is an extra .02, could it be that they don't want to cover the difference? Then again, when I sent the queries, I was aware of the postal rate increase and slapped on an extra couple of stamps. Ah, that's it, then. They needed my return postage to cover their lack of penny stamps. I can see them now, those crafty literary agents, steaming the Navajo Jewelry commemorative off SASE's, saving themselves a trip to the Post Office.

Who knows, maybe one day my mailman will drop off a note that I owe some two bucks for a bunch of mail with insufficient postage. It could happen. And pigs might fly. And I might get published.

Literary Fiction

I never thought of myself as a pointy-headed, over-educated intellectual, but I like well-written books. Those that are classified as 'literary fiction', that is, but not all of them.

Take The Story of Lucy Gault, for example. There is some conflict, but not a lot of action. The first few pages are largely description and back story, all things that we as novelists are not supposed to do. No wonder my submissions get rejected. What I like to read is not the highly marketable stuff that agents crave, and so what I like to write is not accepted.

Browsing the back flaps on a shelf of books, I noticed that many authors list some sort of award or credential, yet none of it translates into a good book. Many times, I have been told by literary agents to get some kind of writing credit if I want to even be asked to submit a manuscript. It is all about marketing, not writing skill. Thank heavens for the public library, which has saved me a small fortune. I do not have to waste my hard-earned money on the drivel that spews forth from the Big Houses. Many times I have picked up a book based on the book flap story, only to give up before I have plowed through fifty pages. Hurrah, the author has been published in some literary journal, but that does not mean they could write a complete novel.

I rant in frustration. Perhaps I should be looking for an agent in England, where good writing seems to have more value. Hopeless, all hopeless.

Sharpen Your Hook

Rookie novelists are often told to start their query letter with a hook, and it has to be a good one. Want proof that literary agents are only reading the first few lines?

Three e-mail queries that I sent were answered, one a request for a manuscript and two rejections. All three were addressed to the name on my e-mail address, which is not my legal name and not the name that I used to sign the letters. Obviously, the agents never got all the way to the bottom of a three paragraph letter. One was snagged by the hook, and two were not. A sharp hook is needed to land an agent.

Do you wonder if agents remember the names of those who sent queries before? If they only read the opening sentences of a query, then probably not. However, I have sent Marcy Posner (now at Sterling Lord Literistic) three queries in the past couple of years, with requests for partials on the previous two.

At first, I was surprised that she remembered my name, given that she rejected both partials. She thinks I've been busy writing, to send her so many queries. Well, yes, I have been busy writing, but I have been writing for the past five years. There are four completed manuscripts to be shopped, finished when I never gave a thought to being published because it seems so impossible. After three years of querying, I know for a fact that it is impossible.

The routine goes on - query, revise, query again. Another pig-headed, stubborn Irishman, unwilling to give up, practicing the art of the grand gesture in the face of certain defeat.

Today has been rejection-o-rama, a heavy Monday. Douglas Stewart did not fall in love with either the writing or the story - so I am now wondering if the revisions I made have weakened the novel. Then again, he was not interested in the story, and since he was rejecting a query with sample chapters, I can't really tell. Kirsten Manges finally got back to me with the form rejection I was expecting, and a few more form rejections turned up from query letters sent months ago and quite recently. Time to focus on the fifth novel, still being drafted, and maybe the partials and fulls out on the first three will draw a nibble.

Technorati tag: Kirsten Manges

Back to Work

Looks like the publishing/agent world is back up and running after the Christmas break. Today in the mail I got two rejections from queries sent before the holidays - form rejections, natch. The one from Anne Edelstein's agency was the fastest turnaround time ever from her office, which makes me wonder if anyone even read the sample pages.

Even though I reworked the opening of MANUSCRIPT, her assistant was not swept away in rapture if she did read it. Such is the query world.

Four e-mail queries came back rejected as well, with one from Alexis Hurley at InkWell sent back in October. Well, at least she responded, which is more than I've gotten from some other people at InkWell.

Frustrating, infuriating, but there is a rush to sending out the queries. I sometimes feel like a gambler, dropping coins into the slot machine and hoping for a jackpot, only to lose again. Yet I send out more, going back to the list and re-querying those who were queried two years ago. Different letter, different title. Better luck next time.