An Open Letter To My Agent

Dear Mr. or Ms. Agent,

I can't address you by your proper name yet because we haven't officially met, but I know you're out there somewhere.  I'm as sure of this as I am of a setting sun in the west or the beauty of a newborn child.  When we do meet I'll probably read you this hokey letter and we'll laugh about it, then you'll point out my grammatical errors and chastise me for the weak paragraph structure.  I'll be so juiced that I'll just nod my head incessantly like one of those bobble-head toys, unable to wipe the stupid smile from my face.

We haven't connected yet because I'm still finding my way through this maze of a process designed to bring us together.  I've been spending hours upon hours scouring the database of QueryTracker and AgentQuery, or turning the pages of my well-worn Writers Market, searching for your agency's name and jotting down submission guidelines.  My query letter has been tweaked more times than Joan Rivers and the version number on my synopsis is approaching triple digits.  Whoever thought that the same skill set that served us so well while writing our manuscript should prove useful in boiling 300+ pages down into a couple of paragraphs, is frankly confused.  I feel like a college student who's been studying algebra all year long and the first question on the final exam has to do with organic chemistry.  But I'll continue to plod away, confident that I'll finally find the right collection of thoughts to jell into a coherent letter and then wait for that special day when the planets align and you click on my e-mail.  It's then that you'll first feel a tug of interest as you read about my story, and just as you're about to habitually reply with a standard form rejection, you'll pause.  Unable to put a finger on why, you'll feel compelled to read my first chapter a second time and your interest will deepen into genuine curiosity.  You'll need to read more.  The requested partial will only further stoke your interest and as soon as you ask for the full manuscript, that's when I'll have you.

After finishing my novel you'll realize you've discovered a slightly flawed project with a HUGE amount of potential.  An adult Mystery/Suspense that I've been told is in the same mold as Suzanne Collins Hunger Games, a fast read that trades purple prose and nauseating detail for an intriguing storyline and fresh characters that resonate long after the final page is turned.  The commercial possibilities and ways to promote it will be endless, after all, every one of my friends tell me they would pay money for my book.  Have you stopped laughing yet?  More importantly, they'd pay more money for the next one.   You see, a vote of confidence in this book is actually a future sale of two (or more).

But I understand you're not going to be 100% sold just yet because although the material is a large part of a successful partnership, the synergy has to be there as well.  That will lead to the phone call where you'll size me up and gauge our rapport.  You'll be pleasantly surprised to learn that I'm slightly older than most of the other aspiring authors you've been interacting with and confess to being willing to exchange youthful exuberance for mature ebullience.  I'll brag about the modest following my blog has accumulated and might even mention that Rachelle Gardener tweeted about it once. Then I'll warn you about my introversion and oftentimes debilitating shyness, but quickly counter by pointing out I never have a problem discussing topics near and dear to my heart...such as my writing.  That's when the conversation will drift back and forth between my book, the vision of where I see my future as a writer heading, and your ideology as an agent.  Our chat will last for almost an hour, but we'll both have made up our minds in the first five minutes.

I SOOOO look forward to spending hour after hour on the phone with you discussing the book, listening to your suggestions and agreeing to changes we both find necessary to lift it to where it must be.  I can't wait to see that final version the two of us will craft together and send out to publishers so they can experience what we both believe it possesses. Wings!

So, I know you're weary and that slushpile of query letters is more backed up than a three-hundred pound man following a twelve hour trans-Atlantic flight, but I need you to stay on top of your game.  I can't afford for you to wake up on the wrong side of the bed the very day my email jumps to the top of your queue.  I'm counting on the fact that you'll look past the fact that I put the genre and word count in the first paragraph (or the last) and concentrate less on the technical appropriateness of my query and focus on the heart of the story.  That's where you'll find me.

I'll be right here...waiting...patiently.

Sincerely,

DL

PS.  I hope you'll notice that this post, like my blog, like my query letter, strives for subtlety by saying something about me...without saying much about me.  That is to say that despite my tongue being planted firmly in cheek, my eye is on the target.  If your unable to see that, then maybe you're not my agent after all.  

Knocked Up

A common theme we aspiring authors tend to discuss a lot is how open we are about our writing.  Who have we let in on our little secret?  Family?  Close friends?  Co-workers?  Naturally those who’ve been published, about to be published, or have signed with an agent would probably be a lot more forthcoming then those of us still seeking validation.  Why is that?  Why are we so hesitant to talk about this passion to those closest to us…but we’ll openly share our experiences to virtual strangers out here in the blogosphere?  Don’t worry, I’m not an idiot and I don’t think any of you are either, it’s a rhetorical question.  Here in our blogging community we all understand the process.  The trials, tribulations, frustration, gratification, reward (recognized or not), despair, and jubilation. It’s so easy to relate.  But our non-writer friends and family…muggles, if you will…with their obligatory praise and well-intentioned prodding, that’s another matter.

There might be another explanation for our silence.  Expectations.  As soon as you let that cat out of the bag, then expectations start to build in the minds of those you tell.  It’s very similar to a couple informing the people in their life that they’re pregnant.  What’s the first question asked…when are you due?  The newly informed instantly know that big changes are coming and have a timeline to track the couples progress by.  Now let’s back that up a step and pretend the couple make the same announcement…only they’re not really pregnant yet.  They only have intentions on becoming pregnant.   How do they answer the when are you due question now?  It's not like you make that kind of decision, do the nasty, and ta-dah...pregnant!  It doesn't work like that (unless you're teenagers doing it for the first time in the back of a Chevy using a condom with a microscopic hole in it).  How do explain the lack of a belly bulge eight months later.  Twelve months?  Two years?  Is it a problem with her?  With him?  Did they change their mind?  Are they having problems?  Anybody having difficulty equating the red NO on a pee stick to a rejection letter?

The expectations of others upon us create a pressure to deliver.  Our egos are fragile enough, why do that to ourselves?    We don’t.  We keep silent.  Questions like "what have you been doing lately?" are deflected.  It’s impossible to fail at something nobody knows about, right?

But here’s the thing, expectation can serve as a powerful motivator?  Want to lose twenty pounds...tell everyone you're on a diet.  Want to finish that half-completed landscape project...plan a party an invite everyone over.  Want to see your recently revised manuscript published...tell everyone you're a writer.

So that's what I did.  At our company strategic planning session this week we were asked to stand up, introduce yourself, and say one thing that none of the 45 other attendees knew about you.  I proudly announced that I was a writer and I had written two novels!

Thirty minutes later I felt like throwing up.  Maybe its morning sickness?

Reboot

A problem has been detected and you have been shut down to prevent damage to your ego.

If this is your first time you've seen this stop error message, restart yourself. If this appears again, follow these steps:

Disable or uninstall any defense mechanisms, brain defragmentation or backup utilities. Check your configurations, and scan for any updated suppression drivers. Run CHKDSK /F to check for brain corruption, and then restart yourself.

Technical information

STOP 0x00000024 (0x00190203, 0x839D72A8, 0xc0000102, 0x00000000)
………………………………………………………………………………………..

*Thump…Thump…Thump*

Anybody out there? I’d actually be surprised if there were. That’s what happens when you abruptly pull the plug, especially when you’re dealing with sophisticated systems. Complete memory wipe. In the aftermath you find yourself faced with one of two choices…rebuilding what you had by piecing together bits and pieces from external storage…or begin anew, breathing fresh life into a previously stagnant existence.

Five months ago I made a big decision, one that I had been building up to weeks prior to that. I decided, for me, it was better to be a non-writer, than a mediocre one. My second novel lay on there on my desk, begging me to complete the promising start I had fashioned, but I lacked the skills to provide the finishing touch it required. I knew there was much more I needed to learn about the craft before I could give it the attention it deserved, but that next level was beyond my reach. This wasn’t a case of the self-doubt that all writers face from time to time, this was more than that. What I faced was a realization of where I was…where I needed to go…and the seemingly impenetrable barrier that separated the two.

Motivation was never the issue, but time was. Working 50 stressful hours a week (mostly dues to new job responsibilities) and a family life thirsty for my attention, forced my writing aspirations to the back burner (deservedly so). At the time I couldn’t see a way to alter my circumstances and every post I uploaded to this blog seemed to mock me. So, I pulled the plug. Actually, I joke about it above, but what happened was similar to a computer shutting down to protect itself. On March 28th I stopped swimming against the current and crawled out of the water. I no longer felt comfortable calling myself a writer.

It’s here I would like to take a moment to thank those of you who sought me out back then, and even times since, making impassioned pleas for me to reconsider. Your emails, Facebook messages, Tweets and blog posts meant more to me than I could ever put into words. Thank you all! Really!!

My departure also upset more than a few people, and for that I’m truly sorry. Note to self, next time you feel like imploding…keep it to yourself. I don’t regret quitting…it was the right decision at the time…but I do regret any hurt feelings it caused.

The good news is the reports of my demise were exaggerated…by me it turns out. So, what has changed that’s allowed me to see myself as a writer once again? First and foremost, the stress that my job imposed on me for so long has mostly lifted. I no longer feel drained and vegetative at the end of the day and have hopes that it will remain that way for some time. I also have to say that not blogging (and all that entails) has proven beneficial. More on that in a minute. Both of those things have allowed me time to map out a more focused strategy for moving forward. My passion for telling stories never really diminished, but now I’m excited about writing again because I’m no longer floundering. I may be a writing midget…but I’m determined to be the tallest midget in every room I enter.

I’ve taken my manuscript through yet another round of revisions and I’m gearing up (seriously…this time) for query wars. My confidence in FALLEN KNIGHT is as strong as ever and it’s time to find an agent that feels the same way. Wish me luck.

But that doesn’t mean this blog is back, at least not in the same way it was before. Remember when I was talking about what to do after you reboot? You can either choose to rebuild by piecing together bits and pieces from remembered habits, or begin anew. I’m actually doing a little of both. I’m choosing to keep those elements that I believe define me as a writer, dropping those that are more about attracting followers, and adding content targeted for newbie’s. That’s not a judgment regarding anybody else’s blog, just what works for me. It means I’ll probably post less frequently and only have time to read the blogs of writers who interact with me here, but I’m back.

I guess this officially marks the beginning of Cruising Altitude 2.0. Sorry for the unexpected turbulence. I’ll do my utmost to keep it level from here on out.

DL

A Means to an End

I never actually intended on becoming a “blogger”. And when I use the term blogger, I’m utilizing the widely accepted definition that states blogging is the regular journaling of day-to-day events complete with social commentary, an on-line diary if you will. The original purpose for my blog was two-fold…provide another avenue to express myself creatively by writing on a consistent basis, and secondly to learn as much as I could about the craft and the publishing business from the writing community. My grand scheme was designed to improve my chances of a creating unique material worthy of representation by an agent and eventually finding its way into print. Later on, I allowed it to morph into a pseudo-platform, a way to establish and cultivate an on-line presence for my eventual emergence as a published author. In that vein, I adopted some of tools along the way designed to increase site-traffic and help solidify my standing in the blogosphere. Although outwardly I may have appeared to have fallen into a pure blogger mode, my true goal remained intact. Blogging has always been a means to an end for me.

What I have come to understand, albeit reluctantly, is that the path to improving my prose and seeing my book in print is more protracted than I first imagined, so much so that the time and energy to see it through to fruition is beyond my current means. This realization has been creeping up on me for quite a while. Like many a wayward prizefighter the actual knockout blow came several months ago but I’ve been sleep-walking in the ring for a few rounds, throwing listless punches until I succumbed to my limitations. I’ve pried open my eyes regarding certain hard facts. I watch what I eat and exercise regularly, but I’ll never weigh what I did in college again. I love to hum and belt out songs that make me happy, but I’ll never be a singer. I love to partake in all kinds of competitive sports, but I’m not an athlete. And I have written a couple of books and short stories, but I’m not a novelist. Why? Because I’m not willing to make the sacrifices necessary to take me to where I need to be as a writer, and I’m comfortable with that. That doesn’t mean it hurts any less. It’s a special kind of pain when your dreams die, even worse when you’re the one holding the pillow over their face. Will I ever be ready, or able, to make those commitments? “Never say never”, I’m always saying, but for now up on the shelf it goes.

With that decision made, the purpose of this blog is now null and void. I could continue doing what I have been for the last couple months, but the truth is my heart wouldn’t be in it. I’ve been talking-the-talk, but not walking-the-walk because my feet ache from trying to keep up. But make no mistake, this is not goodbye. I have formed some tremendous friendships during my time here and I’ll continue to follow each of your progress, although in lurker mode. The reason why I’ve stayed in the ring as long as I have, unconscious on my feet, fooling myself into believing I could find the time to be a writer, was because I couldn’t face losing the relationships I’ve found here.

I debated (still am actually) long and hard about whether it was better to post a final thought, or simply fade away. If you’re reading this you know how that struggle turned out. I’m officially setting free all of my 702 followers and offer them my heartfelt thanks for making the past two years so memorable. Good luck to you all!

Comments are turned off. DL out. :)

Intuitively Obvious to the Most Casual Observer

First off, I’m sorry I haven’t been around the blogs much this past couple weeks. My only hope to stay caught up with my blog reading/commenting routine is borrowing some time at work when things are slow. That ain’t been happening lately! And doing any actual writing…forget about it. I’m confident circumstances will swing back the other way soon, but until then I’m just doing my best to stay in the game and remain on your radar.

Today I’d like to discuss a couple of topics that collectively present a personal challenge to my growth as a writer, but I suspect touches all of us in some fashion. As I formulate this post in my head the concepts seemed disjointed and unrelated, but my gut is telling me they are inter-connected, so bear with me as I trust my instincts and fly by the seat of my pants. I’ll do my best to tie it all up with a neat bow at the end.

Most of you are unaware that a good portion of my day-job involves writing material for instruction manuals. Most of my career path has revolved around on-the-job instruction, spending a good many years as an administrative trainer, which also involved developing the manuals that went hand-in-hand with the training. There is a phrase that I learned early-on that served as a guiding beacon when I went about creating these guides, which ironically I now attempt to block out when writing fiction…Intuitively Obvious to the Most Casual Observer. That was always the goal. It mostly entailed explaining a task multiple ways, in the hopes that one of them will ignite a spark of comprehension in the reader. I bet you can see where this is heading. Not only is the writing I immerse myself in during the day un-imaginative, dry, and emotionless, it also must be structured and written in such a manner that even the most intellectually challenged employee could understand what it needs to convey. Just one example of how that bleeds over into my fiction writing is in the form of stage directions, the most common feedback from my critique partners. I find myself going to great lengths, unnecessarily, to explain tiny details that fail to drive a scene forward. It’s habit.

Sometimes I feel like I’m attempting to be the writing equivalent of Superman. During the day I’m the mild-mannered, ever-invisible Clark Kent, churning out non-descript, bland, filler articles about boring subject matter, but at night turning into Superman…where emotion and imagination is boundless.

I recently listened to an interview fellow blogger and author K.M. Weiland conducted with Thriller novelist Joanna Penn and found the Joanna’s discussion concerning transitioning from writing non-fiction to fiction very interesting. I couldn’t help but compare our struggles, and I have to say…I win (that is, if I’m ever published). Works of non-fiction can be very creative, even emotional, but the one thing they cannot be, even in that genre, is obvious. A good novel, whatever the genre, doesn’t spoon-feed the reader. It draws the audience in, forcing them to invest some of themselves by tapping into their own imagination and connecting with the story. That author utilizes layers, and sub-text, all written between the lines. The exact opposite of what I do for a living.

But my challenge doesn’t end there, for me there is another level at play. You see, I write mysteries, where obvious is equivalent to kryptonite. One way I combat my tendency to over-explain, is my outline. That’s right, not only can an outline assist a writer by detailing where various story elements should be introduced, but you can also use it to list which elements need to be suppressed. Many-a-time I have gotten carried away writing a scene or chapter until I checked back to the outline and discovered plot points that were not supposed to be revealed yet. That helps me with timing, but I continue to grapple with another issue -- trust. Trusting the reader to figure things out for themselves. When I am writing my instruction guides, I have to ensure that EVERY reader can figure out what is going on. However, in the world at-large, that is not necessarily the case. The truth is, not every reader is created equal and as a writer, you have to find the intellectual sweet spot that represents your core target audience. If you write too far down, you’ll alienate those readers looking for more challenging content, go to high-brained and you’ll see the opposite effect. This is where a good agent (I’m hoping) can help align you with the niche that best suits what you like to write. Although, agents are first and foremost…readers, and requests for major revisions to either beef up or dumb-down your manuscript should be given a healthy amount of consideration first (*winks at Leigh*). The same goes for advice from CP’s or Beta readers. Making changes to clarify every question or misunderstanding could be doing your story a disservice.

At the end of the day, it’s all a balancing act. Weighing the apparent against the obscure, choosing which dots to connect and which ones to leave for the reader to interpret. I’m doing my best to figure all of that out and create something special.

Isn’t that obvious?