I just hit send on a query email to an agent. Root canals are more fun. Why is that, you ask? (You're asking, right??)
It's tedious, that's why. It is tedious, a lot of work, and almost always spectacularly unrewarding.
First, I write the query. While my novel should feature stellar writing, if I don't have an excellent query that is succinct, descriptive, and catchy, no one will ever see it. And it needs to be all that while encapsulating my story in an intriguing nutshell. Boiling down a novel with which you have spent untold hours is next to impossible. You are aware of all the characters, their trials and triumphs, the main plot and the subplots. They are all golden to you. How to pick and choose what to include and what to abandon by the roadside of querying?
Second, I research. Before I query an agent, I look first at the agency, then the agent. Most agencies frown on writers querying more than one member of their staff, so picking the right agent who best matches my work is key. Sending my women's fiction manuscript to someone who represents fantasy and sci-fi is a colossal waste of time, effort, and hope. One key is the author list. Do they represent authors who have a similar writing style or theme to my novel? But when I see names like Amy Tan, Lisa See, Margaret Atwood, I freeze. I even see dead people. Somerset Maugham. Daphne du Maurier. And wait. Churchill? Mother Teresa?? Oh, my God, I think. My book can't possibly stand next to such illustrious writers. Of course, there are times when I run across a specific agent's list and recognize NOT ONE NAME. Should I know these people? To admit I don't seems like an insult to the agent. But there are a LOT of authors out there. It would appear, as my Southern dad would say, you can't swing a dead cat without hitting an author.
Some of the agency websites make this process easy. They have bios for each agent along with a list of some of their authors and what type of books they are looking for. Other agencies make it much more difficult. Sometimes the writers represented are listed as a whole, without attachment to any particular agent. When that happens, I turn to google and try to figure out who Ms. Smith represents or who Mr. Jones works with. Because I have to decide on ONE of them.
Once I narrow that down, I also google the agent to learn more about them, looking for something to reference other than "I see you like women's fiction!" Or worse, "I randomly picked you out of a proverbial hat!" Supposedly being able to show evidence of my due diligence will help my query stand out from the dozens (hundreds?) they receive each day.
Now it’s time to check the submission requirements. Do they want an email or snail mail query? Or do they have a submission form on their website? Do they want the first 50 pages, first 20 pages, first five chapters? Any other specifications? Attached in a PDF, Word document, or pasted in the body of an email? Do they specify margins? Font? Point size? Headings? One agency I queried specified what should be in the first, second, and third paragraphs, so I had to write a different query to them. I don't know if this sounds nearly as tedious as it is, but trust me, it is.
Finally, I sit, cursor poised over the blue send button, and take deep breath as I launch the query out into the ether.
Then I wait. I might get a no. Sometimes the no is merely a form letter, thanking me and wishing me luck. A good "no" is one that gives some input into why they decided against representing me. If I am very, very lucky, I will get the the lottery of answers: a request for a full manuscript—that is scarce as hen's teeth. And because that is the writer’s equivalent of getting an audition, you can still get a no. But you celebrate because at least the query piqued someone's interest. The most likely result is . . . nothing. Some agents state outright that if I don't hear from them in a given time period, consider their answer a no because they don't have time to respond to everyone who sends them queries. Other agents never respond and I will eventually add them to my “no” list.
Meanwhile, I keep sending the queries. It feels like sowing seeds on concrete. But maybe one will find a crack, a little earth and air and water, and take root and grow. When you play the game of queries, you are taking leaps of faith over and over and over again. It's discouraging. It sometimes seems futile. But you keep doing it anyway, hoping one day you'll advance in the game.
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