Remember when I got into Boot Camp and I said, “Can I just say, this feels enormously validating?”  Well, this… this feels like the un of that.

It’s not the end of the world.  I understand this agent’s reasons, and I appreciate the fact that she let me know what they were.  In all honestly, I always knew that my book wasn’t a 100% perfect fit for her interests, as she’s not really a mystery girl.  Still, she had the whole book, and she didn’t go crazy for it.  So, you know, there’s that.

I mailed out some quick queries, and then Mark took me out to dinner (has anyone else noticed that the Olive Garden has gone downhill lately?). And just for the hell of it, we talked about what I would do if the book really didn’t sell.

Not that I think I’m there yet.  And write another book, duh.  Still, it was a good conversation to have, and we came up with some neat ideas in case I need them.

When we came home I already had one rejection waiting for me.  I should have known better than to query the woman who said she was looking for authors with amazing voices, and huge platforms.  That’s sort of like those bachelors on Millionaire Matchmaker who say they’re looking for a woman with a beautiful spirit, and ginormous breasts.

Seriously.  I am down, but not out.  I have more queries to mail.  I have more ideas to write.

And I am working on one now.

I am seeking representation for my jazz age mystery novel, The Big Life (75,000 words).  It is a spin on the classic hard-boiled detective story—from the secretary’s point of view.

In 1928, Kitty Carmichael arrives in Chicago determined to reinvent herself—and to mooch off her rich uncle as long as possible.  Instead she discovers that her uncle has been murdered, and his half-Japanese daughter, Koko, has been left in her care.  It’s a responsibility she doesn’t want.

When Kitty learns that the fortune Koko should inherit has disappeared, she teams up with clever but cynical detective Tom Gallo to find it.  But they’re not the only ones looking.  When Koko is kidnapped by someone who believes she is the key to finding the fortune, Kitty’s priorities change.  She saves Koko, and in doing so learns that you can’t live the Big Life without a big heart.

The Big Life is a historical mystery with a strong romantic subplot.  Although it could function as a standalone novel, it could also anchor a series.

Previously I was a story writer for the popular online game City of Heroes, known for its intricate plot lines.  I studied writing at Florida State University.

Thank you for your consideration,

Jane Kalmes
What do you think?  Less punchy?  More intriguing?  If anyone has an opinion on this query letter, I am looking for one.

But what I really, really want to write is a pan of Sex and the City 2.

So if you’ll indulge me for a moment, I promise we’ll get to the liveblogging in due course.  Spoilers in…

3

2

1

I used to love Sex and the City.  The writing for that show was scintillating, not only funny, but also often very interesting and moving.  The writing for the movie… uh, not so much.  They ditched the interesting, and the moving.  And the funny?  Well, they tried for it, but it didn’t really manifest, since most of the lines seemed forced.  Case in point:

Sexy Stranger: Lovely to meet you, Samatha.  I’m Rikard Spurt.

Samantha: Isn’t Rikard the same as Richard?

Rikard: Yes.

Samantha: So your name is Dick Spurt?

Rikard:  Could you be any more American?  I don’t think so.

Translation…

Samantha: So your name is A Name Obviously Constructed In Order To Give Me a Very Moderately Funny Joke?

Rikard:  Could you be any more carelessly written?  I don’t think so.

Samantha was a complete disaster in this movie.  She used to be lewd in a way that was downright erotic in its frankness and confidence.  But in this movie she was gratuitously, pointlessly lewd in a way that was, frankly, a little bit gross.  Even Samantha ought to have had more class than to scream “labia” while surrounded by Muslim men.

Samantha annoyed me a lot in this movie, but the character who really got under my skin was Carrie.  Sadly, this is the one thing that did remain consistent from television to movie:  Carrie can be the most unbelievably selfish brat.

On the show, she was constantly doing things that shocked me (most of them to Aidan).  But I put them aside and loved her anyway, because she was so interesting, and I really did want her story to have a happy ending.

But, man.

If you kiss your old flame, and feel you have to tell your husband (and I’m frankly not sure you should), by all means do not call him in the middle of the night while he is in New York and you are in Abu Dhabi.  It’s like, “Hi, sweetheart, I’d like you to know I kissed the One Who Got Away.  While you’re home alone for the next few days and I’m completely out of your reach (but just a short walk away from that other dude), have fun thinking about that.  I’ve obviously been thinking about it a lot, because I’m calling you about it at 2:30 in the morning.  So, you know, clearly it meant a great deal to me.”

But even that wouldn’t bother me so much if Carrie’s lines during the scene where she debates confessing weren’t all about her.  “I don’t want the secret.”  I, I, I.  No “Don’t I owe him my honesty?” No “Should I really hurt him that way?”  Nope, it’s all about Carrie.  She’s perfectly willing to indulge in any sort of flight of fancy if she thinks it’s something she needs.  But she never makes the mental leap to thinking about what her man needs.

Ok, enough.  I knew going in that SATC 2 was going to be, you know, mediocre.  Really, after the first movie I stopped considering these films to be canon.  But yeesh.  What a way to kill a franchise.

And now, on with the liveblogging:

2:51 PM: I am thinking about amping up my query letter today.  The way I see it, the query letter exists for two purposes:  (1) To sell the aspects of your book that don’t appear in the first five pages and (2) To sell yourself—if not your publishing credentials, at least your professionalism.  I think my query does a decent job of both, but it could maybe be slightly better at #1.  That’s the goal for the first part of today.

3:49 PM: Ok, yugh.  Mark dragged me out of the Barnes and Noble where I was working, and then we lost about an hour to Atlanta’s craptastic traffic.  So, starting now, I am really liveblogging.

4:15 PM: Ok, first change: Replacing “It is the first in a proposed series that looks at the hard-boiled world of guns and gangsters from a feminine point of view” with “It is a spin on the classic hard-boiled detective novel—from the secretary’s point of view.  Although it could function as a standalone, it could also anchor a series.”  Essentially the same information, except (1) stated in a more “hook-y” way, and (2) I left open the option for a standalone (even though I don’t think this is actually a major deal; these types of books tend to sell as series).

4:33 PM: Considering the possibility of one of those “This Book is a wild romp full of X, X, and X.” kind of sentences.  So, what is my book full of?  Making a list… I won’t include this sentence unless it can sparkle with specificity and interest.

4:58 PM: Ok, scrapping that idea.  Here is what I really want to do: I want to inform agents that there is a strong romantic aspect to my book.  Because that’s a significant selling point, and it’s not yet obvious from either the query or the first five pages.  So maybe I just need a new paragraph related to the romantic subplot.

5:45 PM: How can it take so long to write something so short?

5:47 PM: How?  Because I agonize over every phrase, that’s how.

6:06 PM: And because I get distracted.

6:53 PM: At dinner now.  Actually, here is the real problem.  The real problem is that I am having trouble, emotionally, letting go of my last query letter, which I liked, and which got about a 1-in-3 hit rate in partial requests.  The plot summary went a little something like this:

It’s 1928, and farm girl Kitty Carmichael arrives in Chicago determined to reinvent herself—and to mooch off her rich uncle as long as possible.  Instead she discovers that her uncle has been murdered, his fortune is missing, and his half-Japanese daughter, Koko, has been left in her care.

It’s a responsibility she shoulders less than gracefully.  But as she works to solve her uncle’s murder—and more importantly, get her hands on his cash—Kitty discovers a simple truth: you can’t live the Big Life without a big heart.

I thought—I still think—this has a certain elegance.  It encapsulates the core emotional story—selfish young woman grows up—succinctly, and I think with a touch of flare.  But it’s also tight.  Each sentence depends upon the last one.  It doesn’t easily admit the insertion of another line about “ZOMG, also, she meets this handsome dude.”

And yet that is what I have been trying to get it to do.  So I think my job now is to try looking at this query completely afresh.  I’m going to start from scratch with it, even though I’m hoping to later integrate some of the language from Query #1.  But hopefully a blank slate will give me a fresh eye.

7:57 PM: Slowly getting somewhere…

9:15 PM: One sentence left…

In the past, I’ve collected a few names of agents I was really excited about, and queried them. Then, when it’s time for me to send out more queries, I’m sort of starting at Square One again, looking for a new crop of names. No longer. This time I’m being comprehensive.

There are three basic ways I know to find agents:

Search a major database, such as AgentQuery or Publisher’s Marketplace.

This is nice and comprehensive, but tends to give you too much material to weed through. You cannot reasonably query 2,400 agents.

Target the agents of writers you like.

Some people like to go to the bookstore and look at the Acknowledgements page; that way you can frequently see not only the name of the agent, but a little bit about what the author actually thought of him (assuming it was flattering).

Another way to go here is to simply google “Laura Lippman agent.” You might have to hunt around a few web pages, but eventually you will find a bio or interview that reveals the name you want.

Blogrolls

Some agents blog, and many of them link to one another. The way I see it, getting a blogging agent is a bit of a bonus because (1) you can know so much more about them before signing than you could through research and conversation and (2) if they have an audience, they will likely promote your book to it.

***

Yesterday I found myself about forty-five names, through a combination of #2 and #3. Today I am going through them and (after eliminating the agents I simply won’t query, because they’re not seeking clients, don’t rep my genre, or have something truly off-putting in their bio) triaging them into categories: Query First, Query Second, and Query If You Must.

What puts an agent into Query First? A blog (that I like), a client list that speaks to me, or a “What I’m Looking For” section in their bio that seems to be just begging for my book.

What puts an Agent into Query If You Must? Stating that they don’t answer their mail. Ok, there are more factors here, but this is the one I want to talk about.

A surprising number of agents state right up front that unless they are interested in your project, you won’t hear from them. No rejection, nada. I have to admit, I just don’t get this. I mean, I completely get why you can’t send a personalized rejection to everyone who writes. It would take your whole day. But I have a hard time believing that you’re truly too busy to press Reply, CTRL-V, Send. Or at least train an intern to press Reply, CTRL-V, Send.

To me, this is sort of a failing of professionalism and respect. I mean, hey, I get that when I’m looking for an agent, I am the one with the lower status. They are the handsome prince, I am the barefoot cinder wench. I know this, and respect it, and I understand why it has to be the case.

And yet. And yet at the same time as I am writing to an agent and asking him to make my dreams come true, I am also offering him a business opportunity. I am offering him the chance to represent me, and share in my success. And, humble though I may be, it doesn’t behoove me to treat this opportunity as though it were worth nothing.

Which, to me, means not offering it to people who advertise that they’ll treat it as though it were worth nothing.

(Also, I have a hard time believing that someone who doesn’t answer his mail is really going to be the take-the-bull-by-the-horns agent I want.)

Today I’m going to work on something strictly for funsies. The Public Query Slushpile is running an experiment called Query Me This. It’s basically an invitation for writers to send in query letters and five pages in answer to the following prompt:

Our protagonist has found evidence that the government is being lured into war. If the country engages in the conflict abroad, its military will not be able to deal with an imminent invasion by a rival nation. The problem is that the source of the information is a double agent, and our protagonist is being set up to cause the war he/she is trying to prevent.

I have to admit, this prompt didn’t really grab me until I started thinking of it as a concept for an alternate history novel. And where do all the hottest alternate history novels go? That’s right, baby. World War II.

Writing a query for a manuscript that doesn’t exist obviously gives me a lot of leeway. Still, there are a number of things I really need to know about this fictional book. What are the major conflicts between these nations? Why is our protagonist in a position to affect them? What’s his (or her) relationship to the double agent? Why does he trust this person, and what will the eventual betrayal mean? Also, how alternate am I going with this history? Are the events of the novel basically the only departure from known history, or am I dealing with a truly different world?

1:47 PM: And so we begin. Well, truthfully, we began about half an hour ago, and have been struggling with Wordpress’s not-so-hot editor for the iPad ever since.

2:00 PM: I’ve been doing some research to try to determine what my conflict would be. Originally I wanted to do a war between Britain and America, weakening both before the Third Reich went on the move. But I honestly couldn’t come up with a reasonable reason for hostilities to exist between these nations, not without grafting on a more alternate history than I was really interested in.

So, I turned my attention to Russia. It’s easy for those of us in the Western world to sort of forget it, but in WWII the Russians were really up against it. America and Britain both lost around four hundred thousand soldiers; in contrast, the USSR lost somewhere around nine or ten million.

And, looking at the history, it wasn’t hard to find a place where the history could be just a touch alternate, with a big effect. My query will focus on the Russian-Japanese conflict along the border of Manchuria in 1938-39.

2:40 PM: Ok, scrapping that idea. Because that history? Isn’t exactly alternate.

2:52 PM: Mark: a fountain of all knowledge military and historical. I’m back to my original idea, Britain vs. America.

2:59 PM: Ok, I have my villain and my protagonist. The former: Miss Moneypenny. (Ok, not Moneypenny exactly, but a selfless secretary working for MI6 and spending her free time fantasizing about our villain, a sort of evil James Bond.)

3:51 PM: An extremely rough draft:

Working as a secretary for the Directorate of Military Intelligence Section 6 isn’t exactly glamorous. But Dilys Dalrymple is happy to do it. After all, she’s the only one who knows how to keep MI6 running smoothly. Plus, it keeps her close to the object of her affection, MI6 agent Max Law.

When Max uncovers a plot by America to take over the far-flung jewels of the British Empire, Australia and India, Miss Dalrymple is eager to get him whatever resources he needs to prove his theory. But is Max really serving queen and country? Or is he working for another government instead?

There are several problems with this, which I won’t go into in their entirety (like the fact that it’s not even clear this is WWII). But the main thing I want to talk about is the similarity to James Bond.

Let’s just say that this is not a project I would pursue as a real book. James Bond is old enough, and iconic enough, to have generated plenty of homages and parodies… and I think these are legitimate works. This idea of mine, though, doesn’t seem legit, at least not yet.

To me, the thing that makes a movie like Austin Powers legit is that it is both closer to, and farther from, the original source material. It is closer in the sense that it is 100% a James Bond story, twisted sideways. It borrows heavily from the Bond trope, including villains with overly elaborate schemes and women with overly suggestive names. And it is farther from the source in the sense that it is in an entirely separate genre, humor rather than action. It is James Bond with a single interesting twist.

Whereas my query here is James Bond with a slightly murky, uninteresting twist. What if James Bond had started in 1943 instead of 1953? Not so interesting. What if James Bond were evil? Interesting, but coupled with the other twist it’s a touch murky and hard to defend. Also, this would remain in the same genre as the original Bond, and that, too, is hard to defend.

What would a Bond novel look like with Moneypenny as the protagonist? This is both the most interesting, and most legitimate twist I’ve got. While it doesn’t place the book in a separate genre, it has the potential to hop it over to a different subgenre, the cozy, funny women sleuths subgenre. If I were going to write a book like this in real life, that’s the twist I would need to concentrate on. (Actually, I sort of already did that with the novel I’m currently shopping, which is a hard boiled detective story from the secretary’s point of view).

All this being said, as an exercise I think this is just fine. I may try to push my characters farther afield, into an area where I would consider them legitimate and original, or I may just leave it as is, since this is for nothing but fun.

4:50 PM: Short break to catch up on a few blogs and such.

5:26 PM: Back. What I really need now is more specifics; the current graphs are just a bunch of generalities.

6:39 PM: Leftover chicken pot pie for dinner. Mega-yum.

There’s a part of me that wonders whether the other people doing this exercise are taking as long as I am. I’m starting to come up with something decent here, but it’s been kind of a long road.

7:28 PM: Okay, this still needs polish, and it’s a bit long for a real query letter, but here’s a draft:

Dear Mr. Agent,

I am seeking representation for my 75,000 word alternate history suspense novel, (Title Here). Set in the days just before World War II, it follows a lowly MI6 secretary who learns that her country is being lured into war with America in order to weaken it before the coming German invasion.

Playing Girl Friday to one of Britain’s most clandestine secret agents isn’t exactly the glamorous life Dilys Griffin hoped for. Most days, she spends more time locating cuff links than saving the world. But Dilys wouldn’t trade her job for anything. After all, she’s serving queen and country, as any Briton should. And there are those times when she’s almost sure that her employer, Agent Maxwell Lloyd, is looking at her with more than professional interest.

When Max disappears while on assignment, Dilys defies MI6 protocol to go after him. She follows him to India, where she learns that he was killed. Heartbroken, Dilys recovers the last dead drop Max made before his death: photographs showing America mounting an invasion force to wrest India from the British Empire.

Pursued throughout the back alleys of Bangalore, Dilys will have to use every trick she ever learned from Max to complete his last mission and bring the photographs to light. But everything is not what it appears to be. The photographs are doctored. The invasion is a lie. And the man Dilys loves is not only not dead–he’s not even British!

(Title Here) could function as a standalone, or could anchor a series in which Dilys serves her government as a spy throughout the events of World War II.

Previously I was a story writer for the popular online game City of Heroes, known for its intricate plot lines. I studied writing at Florida State University.

Thank you for your consideration,

Me

7:32 PM: Well, it needs work, but that will stand for the moment. Now I need to write the five pages that would accompany this letter in a query. Ideally, it’ll be a complete scene… not because it would need to be for agents, but because this is a fake thing, for funning around on the Interwebs, and a full scene would be most entertaining for people to read.

8:47 PM: The scene is going fairly well. About half a page in, and the voice is decent.

9:18 PM: All right, I think that’s it for the night. I’m about halfway into my five pages and going strong. Does anyone have an idea for a good title for this fictional book? Titles are not my strongest point.

I’d had a partial out with this agent for three weeks, or maybe a month.  And yesterday when I saw I had a response from her, my heart sank a little bit.  Ok, I thought, so here it is.

GMail lets you see the first few words of your mail before you open it, and so I immediately saw “I read your sample pages and really enjoyed them.”  Even as my mouse floated to the mail, I was mentally  filling in the next line: “Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s right for me.”  So you can imagine my joy when I read, instead, “I would love to see the full manuscript.”

I’m not sure why I jumped to a negative conclusion, except that perhaps I was trying to steel my heart against rejection.  The fact is, I simultaneously believe both the best and worst about my work.  I am the best of writers; I am the worst of writers.  I think this is pretty common, so I don’t let it get me down.  But at times it’s a bit of a head trip.

I had to rush out to dinner at a friend’s after getting that message, but this morning I copied off a version of my manuscript and double checked the formatting.  I also had to strip out all my comments; every time Kitty mentions the day, season, or time, I flag it so that if anything changes, I can keep the  manuscript consistent.  Then I ran a virus check and sent my book out into the ether.

After a few hours I got a message back saying that it had been received.  Which was nice.  And kind of necessary, because without it I’m sure writers would drive themselves bananas wondering all the questions that flitted through my mind: Should I really send it to the same address I queried?  What if the person reading the slush isn’t the same person who requested my book?  What if they think it’s an unsolicited attachment and delete it unseen?  What if the agency gets sucked into another dimension before my email arrives?

Then they would drive the agents bananas by actually asking these questions.  Fortunately, that disaster has been averted.

And for heaven’s sake, could someone tell me why?  I have confidence in my book, and also confidence in the facts that (1) tastes differ (2) some agents will find my work not to their tastes and (3) that is ok.

But the fact remains that each time I ask a new agent to look at it, I feel queasy and terrified.  Which is nothing compared to how I feel when I realize there’s a new message in my inbox… even though it’s inevitably someone commenting on my Facebook status.

Here’s my query letter:

Dear Mr./Ms. Agent:

I am writing to query you regarding my jazz age mystery novel, The Big Life (75,000 words).  It is the first in a proposed series that looks at the hard-boiled world of guns and gangsters from a feminine point of view.

It’s 1928, and farm girl Kitty Carmichael arrives in Chicago determined to reinvent herself—and to mooch off her rich uncle as long as possible.  Instead she discovers that her uncle has been murdered, his fortune is missing, and his half-Japanese daughter, Koko, has been left in her care.

It’s a responsibility she shoulders less than gracefully.  But as she works to solve her uncle’s murder—and more importantly, get her hands on his cash—Kitty discovers a simple truth: you can’t live the Big Life without a big heart.

Previously I was a story writer for the popular online game City of Heroes, known for its intricate plotlines.  I studied writing at Florida State University.

Thank you for your consideration,

Jane Kalmes

Hell, I even have confidence in my query letter.  Yet still, the terror remains.

Today I’m also writing to one agent who has had a partial of mine for a little over two months.  Just to remind him I’m around, and find out what the situation is.  It could be anything for all I know.  He could have decided I wasn’t a fit, but neglected to write.  He could still be reading it (I did send it just before Christmas after all, so he probably didn’t even look at it for the first couple of weeks).

The letter I’m sending to him is much more casual.  Because, you know, we’ve communicated a couple of times by email, and so sending him a formal, business-y letter seems somehow silly.  Which in turn seems somehow silly.  Because is this isn’t business, what is?

It’s a weird thing about communication in the internet era.  All the new forms we have for speaking to each other seem so casual, so egalitarian, so off the cuff.  E-mail is one of them, but where this mindset really gets you is social networking:  Facebook, Twitter, and blogs.  They’re just so breezy, you know, all “What are you doing right now?”  They feel inherently casual.  But anything that is both permanent and public is inherently serious.

I fret, when I write this blog, over who will see it.  Prospective agents and editors are certainly capable of Googling my name, so what if they read my blog, huh?  And what if they see something they Don’t Like?

I’m just a nested pile of insecurities today.

Well, it wasn’t entirely a rejection. I mean, it was a no. But at the end of that no was a “Why don’t you contact this other agent? He likes mysteries.”

So, I did. I researched Mr. Other Agent, then sent him a query, mentioning that he had been recommended to me by Ms. First Agent. And darned if he didn’t e-mail me right back with a request for the first fifty pages.

So, the first partial has been dispatched into cyberspace, and I am keeping my fingers crossed. We’ll see if my “pro status” lasts through the emotional loop-de-loop that is the partial submission.

Yep, I’ve always prided myself on that, but I have to admit it hasn’t always worked out that way. When I was shopping around my last book, a rejection letter would get me down for a whole day, maybe two.

But this time? It looks like I’m over it. No more sticking my tongue out at the agent’s web page. No hiding the e-mail in a sub-folder so I won’t accidentally see it and get depressed all over again. I am fine with it, and (call me supremely arrogant) more surprised than disappointed.

Which means I guess I’m now… a businesswoman. Or maybe just a grownup.