Before You Query - A Checklist

Anyone who’s done a fair amount of submitting is guilty of sending a query out to an agent or editor misaddressed, poorly targeted, lacking one thing or another... whatever. Blame it on cutting-and-pasting. Blame it on being bleary-eyed. Blame it on swine flu. It happens. It sucks. Get over it.

So what are you going to do to make sure you minimize future mistakes?

Okay, first off, I’m not even going to attempt to distinguish what makes a well-written query and what makes a crappily-written one. There are ample examples of both floating around the internet by people better qualified to write and crit them and, besides, a lot really depends on what you’re submitting and to whom. But while writing a good query letter is certainly an art form, it is also a matter of skill and discipline. And that’s where I think I might help. All it takes is a simple, reliable quality control mechanism, and what better than the checklist?

In this sample QL/CL (query and cover letters share some basic “manufacturing” attributes that allow the same QA principles to apply to both), I’ve highlighted the problematic areas (click image for larger version). Use the checklist to ensure your QL/CL doesn’t fall victim to “rookie” and other careless mistakes.

□ 1. Are you using plain white 8.5"x11" paper?

No colored or gilded or handmade paper and envelopes.
If you have pre-printed letterhead, make sure it’s professional. Fancy or gimmicky won’t float you to the top of the slush pile, and it may even get your sub thrown away without consideration. Also, do not include bribes, money, fruit baskets or anything other than your manuscript pages and SASE (if consistent with submission instructions).
And as regards envelopes, the general rule is if you’re sending less than four sheets (including the CL/QL), it’s acceptable to bi-/tri-fold and send in a smaller envelope; if four or more sheets, send unfolded (either in an envelope or box).

□ 2. Did you include your real name, address and date?

No pennames (you may get away with it if you’re already published and established under that identity, but then again, if you are, then this checklist isn’t for you anyway).

□ 3. Are you targeting your submission?

If you’re subbing to agency, you absolutely must target your letter to a specific agent. “Ms. Agent” or “Mr. Agent” won’t cut it. If you’re subbing to a publisher, unless you have prior dealings with a specific individual or public knowledge that said individual is accepting submissions (for example, if published in SCBWI Bulletin or PW, etc.), it probably is better to send to “Editor” or some variation thereof.

□ 4. Did you explain why you’re writing them?

A simple head’s-up saying this is a query, the type of submission and title of your work is critical.

□ 5. Are you addressing appropriately?

As with #3, above, make sure you’re addressing the right person, using the right gender titles. In this day-and-age of cut-and-paste, it’s easy to make a mistake. Use “Dear Mr.” and “Dear Ms.” rather than “Dear Firstname.” And never “Hey X” or some other such silliness. Be respectful. This is a business letter. If you don’t know the specific name at a publisher, just address “Dear Editor.” It’ll get to wherever it’s supposed to go.

□ 6. Have you customized your submission?

You’re sending your work to this particular agency/publisher for a reason, aren’t you? If not, just give yourself a big “R.” So, if you are, tell them why. Maybe it’s the type of clients they take on, or the titles they publish. Whatever the reason, it has to be relevant. You want to connect; you want your work to connect. One without the other won’t cut it.

□ 7. Are you providing the basic information about your submission upfront?

Repeat the title (or a keyword of it, if it’s long), estimate your word-count (just use the word count feature in your word processing program and round to the nearest thousand for longer works), and indicate the genre. Oh, and it damn well better be complete and polished. Anything less and you’re just embarrassing yourself.

□ 8. Have you made your pitch?

Only thing I have to say is, make your summary brief. Your QL/CL should be about a single page. You don’t have to include every detail, just enough to hook your targeted audience. Note: synopses are extended summaries and can extend for several pages, but are often separate from the QL/CL. This is not the place to explain why you wrote the piece or provide an analysis of it.

□ 9. Is your bio relevant?

What makes you qualified to write the work? What previous related experience do you have? Have you published in this or closely related genres? Do not, dear god, say that your kids or neighbors or dog loved your work. You’re just insulting the person you’re addressing your letter.

□ 10. Are you including all the necessary materials?

If they ask for three chapters, send them three chapters. If they ask for ten pages, send ten pages. My only caveat to this is when thirty or more pages are requested. In these cases, I would try to send as close to the requested number of pages while avoiding cutting scenes and chapters off. If your chapter ends on page 32, send the extra few pages. If fifty pages are requested but your chapters end on pages 46 and 57, either send 46 or find an appropriate place to cut in the middle of the next chapter.
As far as SASE’s go, include when requested with the appropriate amount of postage and make sure it’s addressed to you, not the agency/publisher.

□ 11. Close with respect.

I think this explains itself.

□ Bonus.

Recheck, recheck, recheck. And then, after you've rechecked, recheck again.

Nuff said.

Everything I Know About Writing, I Learned in Kindergarten

Here's a challenge: write a story in 600 words or less, one that'll make me laugh or cry (or, even better, make me do both in quick succession). One with fully developed characters, a mature plot and a complete story arc. And then make it the kind of story I'll want to read six dozen times in as many nights, laughing or crying each and every time.

That's what makes writing a good children's picture book so challenging.

It's also what has helped me become a better novelist. No writer agonizes over every single word - not just the meaning and appropriateness of the word, but the sound of the word as well - as the writer of the successful picture book. No author is so attuned to the melody of a story, the tightness of the plot, the bare essentials-yet-completeness of the characters.

Now, to be honest, I don't give my novels the same level of scrutiny as I do my picture book manuscripts. It would be impossible to finish anything if I did. But the habits I learned in writing picture books have conditioned me to more readily recognize weaknesses in my longer works, to listen to the sounds of the language, to write tightly.

Writing is, to mangle a phrase, ten percent inspiration and ninety percent constipation. We all know how hard it is to produce good writing. For me, developing the skills and habits to write a good picture book has helped (ahem) loosen the process of writing novels.

And if you don't believe me that shorter is harder, then why is it so damn difficult to synopsize your novel in just a few pithy sentences? Well, PBs are pretty much like that.

Gleaning Hope on the Overcrowded Publishing Highway

Jim Milliot of Publishers Weekly posted some interesting numbers today about how self-pubbing is overtaking traditionally pubbed books. I was shocked to see that that ratio is nearly 3:1 with a total of over a million titles published last year. Wow.

My first impression that there's a hell of a lot of people out there who want to see their name on a cover. Yes, I have a bias, but it's been my experience, so I think it's safe to say - and I know I'll catch heat for this - but a lot of self-pubbed stuff is total crap. No, I don't deny that traditional houses don't publish crap, too, but when you have agents and editors filtering through it all, it does tend to raise the overall quality. Not sure where the trend to self-pub is going and what it'll mean for the future of publishing as a whole, but one downside of having access to so much is it tends to have a numbing effect on us.

Which makes me wonder: How are people supposed to find the best titles to read? I suppose there are processes in place to help, professional readers whose opinions we learn to churn through the muck, raising the cream to the top (to mix metaphors). But how well will this work when the publishing pond becomes an ocean?

I did find some encouraging news in the numbers. Areas that saw growth in titles sold last year include children's books (up 6%). Presumably, this includes all ages and genres. Well, I think this only substantiates what agents and editors have been telling us for the past 18 months. Let's hope the trend continues.

Also insightful, nonfiction (technical) rose by 11%. I think this is across the spectrum, from children's books to adult, but I'm wagering that if you write children's NF on a technology subject, you'll stand an easier chance of finding a home for it. It doesn't surprise me that tech should fare well, given how rapidly it's evolving. Just make sure the subject you're writing about is as up-to-date and forward looking as possible, or else it'll be out-of-date before it hits shelves.

Now, I think I'll go work on that emerging medicine series for children I've been thinking about...

The Listing WIP and Whether to Correct It

No, this is not a post about speech impediments, rather writing impediments. Namely, what happens when your inner and outer muse start to fight.

I'm working on an MG right now that is supposed to be a total comedy/fantasy/unrealistic story about a boy at war with his dad. Really. Like, his father is an evil super villain and it's up to the boy to save the world. Problem is, all these serious feelings and issues and subplots keep intruding, wanting to be part of the story. I thought I could get away with supressing them by adhering to a strict regimen of Comedy Central and a well-developed story outline.

Right. My story keeps veering off to the side, straying off into those murky waters of adolescent angst.

So, last week I decided to let it ride, see where things would take me. Or, at least, that's what I thought I was doing. Actually, I was just humoring my subconscious while still pretending to write the story I set out to write.

Talk about Jeckle and Hyde. The thing reads like Percy Jackson meets Nate the Great. Ugh.

So, what to do? I really like the idea of writing a funny, quirky tale that doesn't try to be serious about anything. But I guess what I need to write is the serious one first. Which bothers me, because I don't like the feeling of having something I need to exorcise. And yet I know it'll be therapeutic. So, that's what I'm going to do. Oh, my MC is still at war with his father, whom he still believes is a secret super villain bent on destroying the world. Sounds silly, right? But, when you think about it, isn't that really the premise of a lot of serious stories?

What do you do when your inner and outer muse start to fight? Which do you go with?

WRT: NaNoWriMo – Writing By The Seat Of Your Pants

Raise your hand if you participated in NaNoWriMo this year. Really? Did you win? If you did— or even came close— props to you! For everyone else, keep at it. Why? Because there’s an important lesson in participating in such an endeavor.

If you’re not familiar with NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writers Month), pay attention. Basically, it’s a community of writers who voluntarily subject themselves to a horrendous regimen of ultra-high-speed writing. Quantity, not quality is the catch phrase. 50,000 words in 30 days is brutal. It’s punishing. It’s discipline-building, excellent conditioning. And it's rewarding. In practical terms, 50K words translates to about 1700 words per day, which is made even more challenging by the usual November distractions (Thanksgiving, the annual all-out family brawl over who gets the last drumstick, Black Friday shopping sprees…).

This year’s annual event, the eleventh, finished yesterday. Over 2 billion words were written by its participants. That’s a two followed by nine zeros!

Okay, so what’s the lesson?

My writer friend was first to propose the driving analogy. To me, at least. He said NaNoWriMo is like racing in the Indy 500. Well, okay, I see his point, but I would hope your writing doesn’t cover the same ground over and over and over again. His doesn’t, but then again, he doesn’t participate, so I can forgive him his poor choice of simile.

Writing a NaNoWriMo novel is, in fact, very much akin to driving, but it’s more like being on the autobahn in a 1977 WV Beetle going 225 kph (125mph, for us Yanks). Which I’ve done. Once. Never again. Thankfully, NaNoWriMo is a much safer exercise. Point is, at 1700-wpd, there’s no time to second-guess yourself. You write by the seat of your pants. You have to have laser-vision-eyes-on-the-horizon nerves of steel. The mile markers fly by practically unheeded, and before you know what has happened, you’ve written the equivalent of driving around the world in thirty days.

Why would anyone want to do that? Well, in this case, it’s not so much the destination that counts as the distance covered and the skills you pick up along the way.

What skills? Primarily being able to ignore that nagging voice inside your head that tells you there’s a better way to say that last thing you wrote. (For example, I just edited that last sentence six times over twenty minutes; that’s about a word per minute, which is no way to write a novel in your spare time.). We are our own worse critics. The type of free writing that NaNoWriMo promotes enables us to shut off that internal critic so that we can get on with the business of setting story to paper. Too often we worry that each sentence needs to be perfect before we can move on. As I’ve mentioned before, a lot of this has to do with seeing only finished product (ie., published book) and having little or no sense of the process the author went through to polish her work.

If you can manage this, the energy that pours out of you will be evident on the page. If you sweat the small stuff too soon, your work will come out positively bland. Sort of like the 1981 Ferrari Mondial 8. Bleh. So, in the spirit of NaNoWriMo, just get out there and drive like the dickens - er, write. Imagine you have no reverse gear, no backspace key or delete. Revising will come. Before you know it, that 1000 word limit you set for yourself will seem like a trip to the grocery store.

The other thing participating in such an exercise does is it demonstrates to the first-time novel writer that she can, indeed, finish a novel-length work. And believe me, that’s a major mental hurdle to get over.

Happy roadtripping.