Pickled Nerves
Well, as you probably all know by now, the big read is days away.  Even while I continue to look for an agent that can wheel my book deal, I've made the decision to celebrate the completion of the manuscript in a public reading and martini reception.  Pocono Community Theatre, a local venue, volunteered to be the sponsor.  And I am humbled at the response.  Even

every play a Hamlet..
I said I'd be sending out another round of queries.  I didn't.  I was hoping for another request or two to read the manuscript.  But no, nothing this week.  Dead.  I've read a few more stories from other writers about the hell they've gone through.  Not a good idea.  One girl was asked by her publisher, "Would you like your advance in gas money or postage?"

design and lottery what?
To date, I've sent twelve agent queries.  Begging in high literary fashion.  They know I'm begging.  They know how many writers can fit through the eye of a needle.  I can sense it in the voice of their response or even worse, in their lack of response.  I sense it as I sit here with my head in my hands, staring at the query files in my macbook at three in the morning.So far then, of the twelve, everyone in rounds one and two have rejected or never responded.  That leaves four without a heartbeat.  The ones that did respond from round two all sent the most pathetic form letters, as if they have no personality whatever.  They brea

waiting for heels..
I waited for three weeks to send out my next batch of queries.  I was busy, lazy, and wasn't looking forward to more rejections.  I'd already queried my top three choices.  I reasoned it as, okay, maybe there'd be someone great underneath a vague website.  And I shouldn't hold the cheesy titles they sold against them either.  So I got busy again.  More research.  Verifying info as current.  Agents move around often.  I look for current interviews too, whatever I can find.I dropped three queries on a Friday.  I never heard from two of them.  I heard back from L in five days.  That wa

first trip to the PO..
I was on my way to a reading.  Convent Station, NJ was on the way.  I'd mail my first query letters from there.  For newbies, a query letter begs an agent to, in high linguistic fashion, please love my book idea so much that you run to the biggest publishing house and prostrate yourself in front of their mahogany desk until they promise to print a million copies and line them up in the windows at Barnes & Noble. And while you're at it, make them promise a fireside chat with Oprah. Oh, movie rights and a Sarah Palin advance too.   So then, traditionally, an agent gets the author a book deal.  I picked three.  I'd read interviews with the agents.