My original goal with the Sammy and the San Juan Express series was to complete three novels before doing any marketing. I’ve traveled each summer to do pop-up book signings and knock on book store doors, but no online ads or promotions. Starting this Spring, I’ll be initiating promotional campaigns, and the first step is redesigning the book covers. Book one, now titled, Sea Whisperer, is finished and I’m happy to share.
I’ve been delinquent, blissfully delinquent. Three weeks ago I flew to Australia for a visit with some dear friends I hadn’t seen in six years. A week ago I flew to Thailand, to visit a country I hadn’t seen in nine years. Both have exceeded my every expectation. My delinquency? I promosed myself I’d outline two new stories while I was traveling and finish my latest book. Neither has happened. I’m actually forcing myself to start posting in the hope it will lead to some form of creativity.
In my defense, I’ve included a few pictures as an exclamation point on why I haven’t had the writer’s motivation. It’s not writer’s block, it’s writer’s insatiable appetite for ninety degree weather, eighty degree water, and the simple beauty of Thailand.
An update: March 14, 2015 – Thinking ahead, I’d made a reservation at a small hotel about one half mile away from the small, yet efficient airport. A crowd of languages pushed past three immigration stands where handsome Thai officers inspected passports and waved us through. A baggage belt sent children scurrying when it kicked into action only minutes later. This isn’t, I thought, anything like my first visit to Thailand, nine years ago, when porters pulled huge carts of bags into the terminal, some thirty minutes after arrival, if at all. I followed the green sign reading, Nothing To Declare, to outside the airport. A wave of sauna like heat pushed over me, some things don’t change. I expected to be assaulted by a throng of tuk-tuk drivers, but instead a small man in a white cap, inside a kiosk, called to me. I showed him the name of the hotel, and within seconds my bag and I were inside a new Toyota, speeding toward my nights sleep. Along a dusty road, blocks off the newly paved highway, the cabbie delivered me to the three story stucco building. He banged on the office door. A young man sleeping in the lobby hopped out, and carrying my bag, led me to my air conditioned room. Thailand, it seemed, had evolved.
Phyllis Mannan just published her new book. It’s worth a read. In her words:
“Based on experiences with my 43-year-old son David, Torn Fish invites you to see how David’s mind works and how his limited ability to communicate and to understand feelings impacts his daily life and that of our family. I also offer insight from my years of struggling to make good decisions for him, all the while trying to make, and keep, a connection with him.”
Torn Fish: A Mother, Her Autistic Son, and Their Shared Humanity, is available now as both a print book and an e-book on Amazon. Please click on this link to learn about it: http://www..com/dp/0986402206
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January 1, 2015
A mauve light stretches across my Necanicum this morning. Silver-green reflections ripple on the river and kiss a blue horizon under a waking pink sky. It is a new year, a new life.
A seagull swoops, another chasing, then twenty and more. Farther out, a cormorant glides, black wings spread wide. Two mallard ducks, flap wildly, skimming the water’s surface, and the glory of life breaks wide open, spilling across the breadth of my river’s yawn, as a string of glorious Canada Geese glide past—I catch my breath.
Stuck in time for the past two weeks, my writing stagnated, bogged down—rubber boots in mud—I am filled with renewed energy. This river, flowing for eons from mountain to sea and giving life to so many creatures, now extends a finger and touches my forehead as a monk might christen a new born—the promise of new creativity.
A small V shaped armada of geese swim their way up river, churning the silence of this brightening morning. My sight adjusts, from their beauty beyond, to a tree on the near bank, only fifteen feet away. My friend, a large blue heron, nearly as old as I, sits on a branch, surveying this morning’s majesty. “Good morning,” I whisper and bow my head, “and happy new year.”
I’m sendin out an average of five agent queries a day. As I do the research and prepare each letter, I’m also watching the emotional roller coaster ride I’m taking. Emotions are important to me, partially because of my training as a counselor, and mostly because my protagonist in, Sammy and The San Juan Express, is a highly emotional being.
This morning, I noticed that for some agents I’m positive and feel good about sending my query. I can hardly wait to hit the send button. I know they will respond soon with a request for my manuscript. Then, I bump into someone who represents the best writers I’ve ever known, or their credentials include a doctorate in English Lit, and my self confidence falls through the floor. I can barely type their email address let alone include the first fifty pages, which I’m sure should be thrown in the dumpster or deleted immediately.
Reality check— take a deep breath, stand, stretch, downward dog or a short walk. I have to remind myself that agents, as my daughter said, “put their pants on one leg at a time.” The truth is, agents need good writers. They’re looking for the next Harry Potter or The Book Thief, and every query holds the promise of being just that—even mine (or yours). So back at it you bad-boy or girl. Click those keys, search those agents, and with the confidence of J. K. Rolling, get those queries out—now.
In a writer’s critique group I presented my Agent Query process. I hadn’t realized how comprehensive and time consuming the process had been over the past three months. I thought it might be helpful to others.
I begin by completing my manuscript. It has had a multitude of readings over the past years by many fellow writers and friends. It is ready to send out.
I then prepared a query letter using research online at:
Many agents request a query letter only, but some also asked for a synopsis—your kidding, right? Nope, absolutely true, and when you think about it, with all the queries they receive, reading a synopsis before requesting a partial or full manuscript makes sense. I researched and created a two page(ish) synopsis of my 66,000 word novel. I used the same resources listed for researching the query letter.
Finally, having finished my novel, and creating a query letter and synopsis, I am ready to send them out … almost. Yet another step is acquiring or building a database of agents. (I’m estimating the next few steps take about one hour per agent, after creating the query and synopsis). I identify agencies that handle novels for my market, Young Adult and Middle Grade, and enter them in a spreadsheet. The resources I use for my agent research are:
Once I compile my database (I build it fifty names at a sitting), I research each agency to identify the specific agent I will query, their current authors (hoping to find something similar to my work), and personalize my query. I also, very carefully, read their submission requirements, (some want query only, some want query and synopsis, some want query, synopsis, and partial manuscript). I give them exactly what they ask for.
Finally, after this time consuming, but fruitful, exercise, I email (or mail) my query to the agent (I’ve sent out twenty so far).
Enough already, I’m exhausted. Time for a coffee break, then back to agent queries for Sammy and The San Juan Express.
Eighteen queries emailed and my first milestone—I received my first rejection email. My first for Sammy and The San Juan Express, that is. I’m not sure if I should be pleased or upset. On the one hand, one agent … wait, another email. Make that two agents, did not feel my novel fit their needs. On the other hand, this puts me in some good company. If the web is correct: Agatha Christie received five years of rejections, J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter)= twelve rejections, Louis L’Amour= 200, Dr. Seuss= numerous rejections with a note: “Too different from other juveniles,” Chicken Soup for the Soul=140, Stephenie Meyer’s (Twilight)= fourteen rejections, and one of my favorite authors, Jack London = 600. Needless to say, even the very best receive rejections, and even some of the very worst are published.
And, as Literaryrejections.com says, “Rejection is an imperative test of one’s character.”
Isn’t life grand.