Two reasons you're hearing no

I'm on a reading tear this month so I've got my eyeballs on a lot of requested manuscripts. This means I'm reading stuff that sounded intriguing at the query stage. Good query, good premise, good pages.

So, why do a lot of these novels not get past the requested full stage?

(1) One big reason is when nothing happens in the first 50 pages. When I say nothing happens, I really mean nothing CHANGES for the characters. Nothing is at stake. They haven't had to make a choice.

It's akin to a chess game. The chess players first set up the board. The pieces are carefully placed and then  the chess player makes a choice and MOVES a piece;commits to changing where one of the pieces is. The story and plot start when the first piece moves, not when the players sit down at the board.

If a lot of your first chapter is getting people into place, I'm yawning by chapter two.

And if your character doesn't have to change, move, decide, risk something in the first 50 pages, it's often a pass from me.

Or think of it this way. Remember the Frost poem that starts "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood?"
Facing those two roads is where the story starts.

How Our Man in the Woods got to the place, what he's carrying in his rucksack, what he ate for lunch, why he's carrying three cats and a lute...all beside the point. Interesting of course, and I'll be keen to see more about it later, but the story starts when Cats N Woodsman  has to decide which path to take.

This is often what we're thinking about when you hear "slow pacing" or "the story didn't start soon enough" or more baldly "no plot."

It's really easy to confuse a series of events with plot. They are NOT the same thing. Only where there is something at stake/a choice/a decision/a change is there a plot.


(2) Lack of story telling. A series of events isn't a story either. A story has context and world building.

Felix Buttonweezer arrived on Carkoon. There was a lot of kale. He'd come from The Reef. It's true, you can't suggest Sharques post twice a day and not get exiled. 

That's a series of events.

Felix Buttonweezer landed on Carkoon, jet pack in pieces at his feet, looked around at the kale fields and wondered if he'd ever see The Reef again. Or how he'd ever get back.

is the start of a story.

Do you see the difference?
(ok, it's terrible writing, but you're the novelist, not me!)

As you read books-not-yours, read with your writer eye. Watch how the novelist tells a story, how they get stakes on the page and WHEN.  Emulate!

And often the best way to learn is to read books that aren't your favorite, and figure out why you hate them.

I realized I don't much care for the drunken-sot-down-on-his-luck-ex-something cause I like protagonists who are heroic, who are our better selves.  This isn't some kind of blanket statement, but it goes a long way toward understanding why I love love love Jack Reacher and Sam Dryden. And why I love Peter Ash (The Drifter et al by Nick Petrie). While Peter is down on his luck, he's not a sad sack. He's a guy who makes things happen. (I'm sure there's someone out there who doesn't like Peter Ash but that person is a dunderhead and will be spoken of nevermore.)


Now back to my reading stack.
You do NOT want to guess how many pending fulls I have.
Or maybe you do.

Querying for memoir

There has to be a story.

A story is more than just what happened.

The story is the POINT you're making.

The reason you write a memoir is not to tell us what happened, it's to tell us how what happened changed you (and better yet, changed a lot of things.)

If you were shipped to Carkoon, and worked in the kale factory, toiling alongside your fellow exiled blog readers, that's a series of events. That's NOT a memoir.

If you were shipped to Carkoon, worked in the kale factory, toiling alongside your fellow exiled blog readers, only to discover kale is actually the secret to writing best sellers and now all of you are querying with Magical Unicorn Books written while smoking kale, that's still only a series of events and NOT a memoir.

If you were shipped to Carkoon, worked in the kale factory, discovered kale was the secret to good writing, started querying, only to discover that kale made you a great writer, but only for books of dino porn, and you had to choose between being a great writer (of dino porn) or continuing to struggle to write better the old fashioned way, THAT'S a memoir.

It's the same element I've been yammering about for novels: what's at stake, what choices did you have to make, how did it change you. Choices are what make a memoir universal. By universal I mean it will resonate with people who didn't get exiled to Carkoon and aren't even writers. They might be musicians faced with a man dressed in black at a dusty crossroad in the Mississippi Delta.  They might be a reporter who learned Miss Piggy is really Mr Piggy, but from a source who will lose her job if the news is made public. To report or not to report? That's a memoir.

I get a lot of memoir queries from people who've done interesting things. I think there's great value in having those books published, BUT if you want your memoir to be published by a trade publisher, you need to tell me a story, not just what happened.

Bottom line: when you query for memoir, tell me about the choice you had to make first, not the events that precipitated the choice.

Yeesh, is this bad agent week?

I pitched a novice agent on a non-fiction project and he signed me--with much apparent enthusiasm--after receiving and reading the proposal. The agent claimed that one of the big five was specifically interested, but just after submitting to them he advised that he would be returning to a full time position in the non-agent civilian world but wanted to continue representing the project. There had been some issues with getting timely replies on the rare occasions I reached out to him, but there was a documented relationship between this agent and the publisher so I decided to ride it out.

There was no sketchy requests for paid editing services, etc. The agency has a history of decent deals, and no negative publicity that I could find.

One of the last messages received said that a specific editor was reading the proposal, loved it, and we should hear something soon.

Communication has gone all but dark, there's been no follow up on the status of the proposal, and I'm ready to start searching for a new agent. What I'm wondering is, is there a professional way to determine if the proposal was ever actually submitted at all?

Yes, but that's the second thing you'll need to do.
The first is you need to decide what to do about your "agent."
I've yammered on the topic of "I'm quitting but still want to rep you"


Your agent could have gone back to civilian life and agented on the side without saying a word. A lot of agents have side gigs, particularly when they are new.  That he told you he was leaving agenting is a signal that he's not here for the long term.


Once you decide what to do, if you've elected to find a new agent, you can query on THIS PROJECT because it looks like only one editor has seen it.


When you sign with a new agent, s/he can call the editor who has it now.
This is not something you do yourself. For starters, an editor will most likely not return your phone call.


I've had to check on projects a couple times, and it's something you do pretty carefully. In other words, leave it to someone who knows how to do it.


You're better off than someone whose project got shopped widely if you're looking for silver linings.


And just for the record: this is bad bad bad agenting.

Answers to yesterday's questions

Yesterday's blogpost churned up more questions than usual, so here's a rundown of the answers.

Colin Smith asked:

Without disagreeing with what you said (I value my limbs), doesn't the agent who dropped poor Opie have a point? After all, if an agent doesn't love your work, it'll be really hard for that agent to sell it. That's what we keep being told--and I believe it. So, while it was a betrayal of an agreement, wasn't the agent simply being consistent with that idea of only representing what s/he loves? I know you love many of the novels your colleagues at New Leaf represent. But do you think you could represent any one of them with the same passion? Just saying, I think it's a tough call on both sides.

There's a difference between taking on a novel from jump, and salvaging a client who's been summarily dumped. It's true that agents leave agencies and clients are left in the lurch. But to just say "tough luck Frank Buck" is bad bad bad business.

I've sold novels I didn't love. I've sold novels I haven't read. I've sold novels I thought needed work. A lot of times that's cause I was selling stuff I hadn't signed.

When an author is told his representation is with an agency, not just the agent, he relies on that for making a decision about representation. It's brutally unfair to the author to renege.


Mark Conrad asked:

A further question I have, and I should have posed it to Janet originally, is: is it typical for editors to not respond to a pitch like that (4 out of 5 didn’t)? It’s expected of agents these days, but also editors?

No.
It's clear this guy was new and didn't have established relationships.
The missing piece of (crucial) info here is how much time went by. 30 days? No one has replied. 180 days? Everyone should have, or the submissions should have been closed out.


BJ Muntain asked:

Janet: A question. Since there were no clients to check for references, would Mark have been within his rights to ask the Head agent what they thought before accepting representation? Or even another agent at the agency? Just curious.

Well, you can do whatever you want in that situation. There's no law against asking anybody anything (ok ok, don't look for exceptions)

BUT, I'd have advised a young agent to run fast in the other direction if a prospective client started phoning around here for references. That speaks of a lack of confidence that is Not A Good Thing at the start of a relationship.

The client relied on what the agent told him. It's unfortunate that he seems to be the only one who did.


Colin Smith dangled this question:

What do you think, Janet? Legal experts?

Yea, not not not commenting on a contract/agreement I haven't actually seen.
That is the way of doom.

Well that was fun, now what?

My thriller MS went through revisions and revolutions, thanks to feedback from a number of very good agents (at least a dozen requested) and fellow writers. The book was almost queried out, when—hallelujah!—I received an offer of rep.

Now, this wasn’t the dream situation. The agent in question was brand new—I was his first client. BUT he had a good editorial background, and he worked for a very well-established agency. So, why not give the kid a chance, right? He could be young and hungry, eager to do well, and I’d get his undevoted attention.****

He pitched the book to five editors at five publishing houses. (And only ever heard back from one, for some reason.)

But then, a few months later, I get the phone call: Head Agent informs me that New Agent Guy (NAG) quit. Head Agent gives me the choice: Does she represent me, or does she cut me loose? Of course, I say I’d love to have her represent me! So, NAG’s quitting had a silver lining after all. I’m all of a sudden repped by an agent with a long track record, someone with connections.

Only, she hadn’t yet read the whole manuscript. When she does, I get a curt email informing me that she didn’t connect with it, and since NAG quit, the contract was void. Good night, and good luck.

This was a real kick in the teeth, since I asked NAG straight out when he first offered, what would happen if he quit. Would I be left in the void, or would another agent represent me? He told me that any client represented by any of the agents is really a client of the agency itself (one big, happy family), so if he quit, I’d still be taken care of.

I felt like I’d been pretty seriously misled by both NAG and Head Agent. I didn’t kick up a fuss about it, since what would be the point? But my teeth are feeling pretty loose.

There’s a lesson to be learned here, but I’m not sure what it is. So, let me ask two questions:

1) Should I have gone about things differently in those negotiations with NAG (e.g., somehow get it in writing that I wouldn’t be out on my own if he quit)?

2) Is my beautiful, polished MS dead in the water, vis-à-vis other agents, since NAG sent it out to five publishers?

Before we get into what lessons are to be learned, let's have a round of a medicinal-purposes beverage, cause oh man, my heart (cold and dark as it is) hurts for you.

I don't want to fling aspersions without knowing all elements of the situation, but yegods and little fishies, this feels like an epic betrayal.

Your mistake was not getting anything in writing.  Some agents/agencies do not have written agreements, and that's fine and dandy until everyone has a different recollection of what was said or a different interpretation of what it meant.

If an offering agent does NOT have a written agreement (and more than a few very solid agents/agencies do not) what you do is memorialize your conversation in writing.  In other words take notes on the answers to your questions and then email them to the offering agent.

To wit:

Dear SharkForBrains,
It was lovely to talk with you on the phone today. I'm delighted to accept your offer of representation. Here are my notes on the points we covered:

1. You will hand deliver the weekly submission database to my house while singing the score from The Music Man.

2. If you die/dematerialize/spontaneously combust/are kidnapped by aliens/make tracks for a better job, the agency will continue to represent my Work/s.

3. At Yuletide I will refrain from sending drummers, pipers, leapers, dancers, milkers, swimmers, layers, callers, hens, doves, or partridges, no matter the number, but will send choccies, spirits, and vino.

You get the point there, right?

And you're right, there's no use to saying anything now. Besides, would you want these people as your agent any longer? To quote Hannibal Lecter when presented with a vegetarian meal of fava beans and Chianti: "Ewww"

Where do you go from here?
This ms isn't the one to secure your next agent with. It's not dead, but it's on the back burner.  Time to get the next one ready. Query with that. You might leave out the whole dreadful story here when querying but DO mention it when you have offers.  It shouldn't have a negative impact at that point in the process.

And overall: this is a really crappy thing to do to a writer. Agents have to do crappy stuff for good reasons sometimes (form letters, saying no to publishable work etc) but to leave you stranded like that isn't anything close to a necessity.

***the irony of your typo here is hilarious. 

Of course you meant undivided, not undevoted.

Query Letter help

I've lurked quietly on your blog for years. I had hoped some day to send an email out of the blue with the subject line "My novel is getting published, and I couldn't have done it without you!" But I'm not there yet.

I started querying my novel about a year ago and didn't have much luck. First round: zero full requests out of ten total queries. OK, fine--so I reworked. Second round: one full out of seventeen total queries. OK, fine--I reworked again. But then I got spooked. What if I burn through all the agents in the world with an obviously-flawed letter and manuscript? I'm especially concerned because even with all this editing and help from friends, I'm not convinced my query is actually improving. I haven't sent in that many queries, but the trend isn't great.

So now I can't get past the reworking. I would gladly part with some dollars for a thoughtful/experienced opinion (since I'm too skittish for the forever-public Query Shark). So is there anyone out there who does this well? I've found a few places online, but I don't know if they're any good. I've seen you mention query evals agents will donate for fundraisers--but I don't know how to find these either. Related, any chance chum bucket will open up again? I know it's querying-for-real and not primarily about feedback, but I've been hanging on to my query for you just in case.

The value of QueryShark isn't that you get your query critiqued. The value is you see lots of critiques and figure out how to do it yourself. Read the archives, make notes. Use those notes to assess your query.

It's the same thing you do when you read books in your category: watch how other writers handle challenges, make notes, follow suit.


I get the sense that you think The Answer is somewhere out there, and it's not.  There is no one answer, there is only effort, and practice, and paying attention.

You can't buy what you need here which is honing your ability to distinguish good writing from flabby writing, and interesting, compelling novels from ho-hum novels.  That comes from reading, and writing.

Stephen King famously said "The first million words are practice" and I think he's spot on.

This isn't going to be easy, and the path is never going to be clear.  The best you can do is keep your machete sharp and whack away at the foliage till you clear YOUR path.

Contest results-NOW FINAL

Special recognition for alliteration

Sharyn Ekbergh: "a shiver of sand sharks"

The Duchess of Yowl is hoping the hooligans are still being held in the hoosegow

AJ Blythe

Extra tough curtain rods in anticipation of the Duchess of Yowl's next visit.

 The return of the clue-by-four!

Sarah 9:12am

After breaking the last three whilst gently remonstrating woodland creatures, she of the toothy grin opens the newly delivered clue-by-four.

 If only!

BJ Muntain

Holy cow. That box must be 4 to 5 feet long...

I know. You ordered yourself a new intern via the Interwebz. It's one of those new-fangled interns that puffs out to normal width when you pull them out of the box. And feed them cookies.

Yea, but those option checks cash juuuuust fine!

Brent Salish

The new Reacher novel. Lee Child was tired of "how tall is he, really," so he decided to make the form of the novel fit the character. He tried - he really did, with the help of his agent - to convince the publisher that Reacher is 6'5", but they knew the truth. And that's why the box is exactly the same height as Tom Cruise.

Several readers were moved to poetry!

Nita

What came in the box has left
no trace, no tail, no shed skin.
No desert dust or lingering scent,
nor grain of salt, or breath of wind.
Not any clue at all remains
of what has come and gone.

Melanie Sue Bowles

The trip to Carkoon is a short one,
yet arduous and risky.

You should never make it alone,
but always take scotch whisky.

As you head up Screwed Creek,
there are sharks - don't be incautious.

And that paddle you thought you'd get?
It's sitting in a New York City office.

Marty Weiss

The Area Rug

“The floor was cold; its hardwood made me shiver.
Arachnologists say, that’s bad for a spider’s liver.
She listened and cared and bought it just for me.
At last, it’s here. It arrived F.O.B.

If, perchance, a wandering household bug,
would stray upon this brand new area rug.
I’d joke and play, for I am not a killer,
I’m more like the late Miss Phyllis Diller.

Shag or broadloom, cotton or wool,
Beige or umber or any thing else that’s cool.
Who cares what color, as long as it lays flat.
But please, keep her off, that spider-chasing cat.”

And yet...no

PAH

Window blinds. I've never been more certain of anything in my life.

Steve Forti references from pop culture eluded me. I knew there had to be something there though,

so I googled. Thanks Steve. Thanks a lot.

It puts the lotion on its skin..."

Fortunately I did get the reference on this entry!

Joseph Snoe

It was a a long day's journey into night.

This one too.

Barbara

What is in the box?

A very long kaleidoscope and a very tiny tab of acid.

And a note. A query, really. It begins...

Picture yourself in a boat on a river...

Kathryn sent us all to google translate!

Diri man ini an baton. Ini an para magpalurong kan Janet kon diri hiya makahibaro kon ano nga yinaknan man ini. Pilipino ba? Oo naman, per ano man? Usa ka libro ha akon kon diri ka maaram.

This is so surreal it begs to be a Sean Ferrell book

DelicartoonsDELLcartoons (sheesh SharkForBrains, get it rlght!)

One of the more unusual offerings on Etsy on a hand-crafted Entire-Universe-Except-For-One-Red-Umbrella.

It arrives in a tall, thin, Inside-Out box. A normal box has its insides on the inside and and its outsides on the outside. But an Entire-Universe-Except-For-One-Red-Umbrella obviously won't fit in a normal box, so they put it in an Inside-Out box.

When the box "arrives" it doesn't actually go anywhere, but the contents inside get rearranged so that you're now near the opening.

Here are the finalists

CynthiaMc

"P2PYL," Janet said, giving her eyes a rest from the hundredth query of the morning. "Never heard of that company before."

The box appeared empty, but had some heft to it. Too heavy for Spidopuss, but not for the filament she produced.

The billowy thread floated into the box and went taut. Tug...tug...cocoon.

"Whoa, Spidey. Let me see."

The object was long, thin, platinum-looking but brighter.

"What are you?" Janet asked and wondered if she should call security.

Letters formed above the latch.

"Open me"

Spidopuss looked at Janet.

Janet looked at the letters as they dissolved and reformed.

Big

Bold

Glowing

"NOW"

"Now you're getting bossy," Janet said.

Sweet cursive

"Might be books"

"Might be a bomb," Janet said.

"Would I do that to you?"

"I don't know. Who are you?"

"Open me and find out."

Janet started to flip the latch - wait - not with that pen. She grabbed a ruler instead.

She flipped the lock and the thing unfolded swift and smooth in the middle of the room where it hung on nothing, shimmering.

"It's a portal," Janet said "but to where?"

"Not to where," a familiar voice said, followed by a wave and a smile.

"Hello, Mum," Janet said. "It's been a while."

Dena Pawling

The box she'd been waiting for had finally arrived.

Spidopuss checked her bank balance, smiled at the hefty deposit for “services rendered,” reviewed her instructions, and started spinning.

Once all employees of New Leaf were cocooned, she opened the door.

“Mmmmmph,” said a cocoon.

“Mwahahahaha,” said intruder #1, rubbing her hands.

Spidopuss finished with the exacto knife (successfully, as she still had all eight legs attached).

“Good girl,” said intruder #2, extracting the contents of the box.

“Mmmmmph!!” said the cocoon again desperately, ignoring the advice to kill all adverbs modifying the word said.

The two intruders found chairs and glasses.

“To our host,” said intruder #1, filling the glasses and raising one high.

“Cheers,” said intruder #2, lifting his glass to meet the other.

“Mmmmmph!!” said the cocoon again, wriggling and wriggling and firmly, definitely, unequivocably stuck, owing to the excellent work of Spidopuss along with several unused adverbs discovered lurking at the bottom of the now-empty box.

Once the special order bottomless bottle of Scotch was empty, sobs could be heard emanating from the cocoon and ignoring the advice to avoid passive voice. Poelle and Sherman left their empty glasses where they'd fallen, and helped each other slosh out the door.

“Thanks, Shark. T'was a lovely party,” they slurred on the way out.

The cocoon wept.

Scott Sloan

    ... as every little spider worth its web knows, no one will remember what came in the box the day after tomorrow...

    Spiders (and cats) everywhere will tell you this is a fact of nature.

    A universal given.

    Who cares what was shipped?

    It's the box that's important!

    With an empty box the possibilities are endless.

    With any actual contents, the possibilities become severely limited.

    Unless...

    What arrived was, indeed, another empty box?!?

Panda In Chief

What’s in the box?
Let the Spidopuss see.
It might be for you,
it might be for me.
Does it have frosting
or ribbons and string?
Is it sort of organic
or crusted with bling?
Is it squishy and soft-
Will it break if it falls?
Is it made for a kitchen
or hung on the walls?
Let me see, let me see!
I must take a look.
Oh fuck it all, Janet,
just send me a book.

EM Goldsmith

What's in the box? This was a curse not a gift. It should never have been opened.

Emptiness and darkness escape the box. Wails of despair wrought of lonliness and isolation no longer in the box. Every soul feels that anguish as it swirls in the ether.

A body found dead, an innocent man accused, well-framed and then well-executed, a dance too often repeated no longer in the box.

These things torment us all now.

A disease of ignorance and hate, pain and tornent flee the box. Please, close it now.

Oh, Pandora, what have you left us? Is hope still there at the bottom of the box? I fear to look. Better to have faith than to know for sure what is left in the box.

Timothy Lowe

Emptiness.

Melanie Savransky

    Spidey put down his Glock and opened the box. "You know what this means, don't you? It's curtains for you, Alot."

    Alot fainted.

    "And a curtain rod," Spidey added, "in an absolutely darling brass finish."

    He looked at Alot and sighed. Starting a hitman/interior decorator business wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had, but it was definitely in the top ten.

John Davis (manuscript) Frain

I'm kinda cheating because I ordered the same box.

One of the ninety-six emails I got from Writer's Digest last Monday (I know, slow day) offered the "really good, very nice, excitingly fresh, alarmingly brief box o’ adverbs." They marketed it as all the adverbs you'll need for your WIP. I'm a sucker for good marketing.

Mine arrived yesterday. Despite the long and misleading product name, the box comes as your picture indicates—empty.

So, what's in the box? All the adverbs you'll need for a compelling story.

Because story is what it's all about. Well, that and the hokey-pokey.

(Ed. note: I was breaking out in a rash because my earlier entry was over 100 words. I know it wasn't a rule, but I'm conditioned like one of Pavlov's dogs. Feel much better now, thank you.)

Karen McCoy

Spiderpuss trampled over Janet and the Alot to get a look inside. “It’s dark.”

“Can’t you see in the dark?” the Alot sighed.

“If I was an actual spider, probably,” Spiderpuss says. “Fluff doesn’t really allow for much.”

“You’re right about that,” the Alot groaned. “It’s bad enough that people are still comparing me to Michael Phelps.”

Janet sighed. “No one is doing that. You’re lucky I’m still willing to type your name at all, Alot. Word keeps correcting it.”

“Speaking of words,” Spiderpuss said, “I think there’s one in the box.” With his soft, spidey legs, he pulled out the first letter. “A.”

“Is that the first letter?” the Alot asked.

“Not all names start with A like yours,” Spiderpuss groaned. He grabbed a second letter. “I.”

“AI?” The Alot asked. “Who would send artificial intelligence in a box?”

“There’s more.” Eventually Spiderpuss pulled out 2Ns, an E, another N, a T, and an R.

“It’s an anagram!” The Alot clapped. “I love those. What’s it say?”

Janet scrambled the letters, and eventually landed on the following phrase: “An intern. I ask for an intern, and this is what they send me.”

“Someone thinks they’re punny,” Spiderpuss said.

The Alot snickered.

Let me know which are your faves, and if you think I missed one that should be a finalist.

Final results later today.

You guyz really outdid yourselves!!

FINAL:

I couldn't pick just one.
And since I have several prize books to give away, this seems like just the right time for TWO winners.


And they are: John Davis Frain and Melanie Savransky. Both entries just cracked me up every time I read them.

Melanie, let me know your mailing address.

John, let me know if yours has changed since your last win.

And to all of you who took the time to write entries, many thanks!  It's always a pleasure to read your work!