Giving Thanks to the Query Letter

This Thanksgiving, like most Thanksgivings and most non-Thanksgivings, I was thankful for many things: a lot of the usual stuff, and some unusual stuff, too.  But since I am a writer and this is my writer website, I figured I should talk about the things I am thankful for that are related to publishing.

But that list was way too long, so I decided to pick something that is too often neglected.  Something left out of the acknowledgment section all too frequently.

That’s right.  The query letter.  I am thankful for the query letter.  There, I said it.

The query letter has a lot of haters out there.  I’m not one of them.  I think the query letter is kind of amazing.  I mean, in what other industry can you convince someone to take you on when you have no qualifications or experience?  Imagine, if you will:

“Dear Ms. Big-Wig Scientist: I watch a lot of Grey’s Anatomy and I hear you’re interested in medical breakthroughs and, okay, I studied history and worked in finance, but I have this really great idea for curing cancer.  Would you like to see my proposal?”

Or

“Dear Mr. Principal of the School: I’ve had a lot of great teachers, and I think I could maybe be one.  Please let me know if you’d like to observe me in a class of your choosing.  Thank you for your time and consideration.”

No?  How about this:

“Dear Mrs. Accountant: Attached, please find my tax return from last year.  I did it myself.  I think others would love to have their taxes done by me, as well.  I look forward to your prompt response.”

Exactly.

There’s a reason people dream of being published.  Because they can.  Because it is a possibility.  No matter who you are or what your education, as long as you do the research and put in the work (and I mean really work at it, then do some more work, and just when you think you’re done with the work, go ahead and do some more) it is this thing that maybe possibly could potentially happen.

There is a place we can send our work, even if we have no connections and no experience and no qualifications: an agent's email inbox – affectionately known as the slush pile.

The slush pile is the reason I could sit in my bed with two baby monitors turned down low, bent over a netbook that didn’t even have MS Word, and tap at the keys for hours with nothing but a whisper in my head asking, Why not me.  Well that and lots and lots of work.  But still.

The query letter is the great equalizer.  It is a chance.  I am thankful for that chance.

Lastly, I would be remiss if I did not mention a certain reader of a certain query letter and the certain keeper of a certain slush pile, who will certainly be in any acknowledgment page of any book I write, but I’m certain I won’t have enough space to adequately thank her.  So.

I am thankful for my agent, Sarah Davies, who read my query and said yes, and who told me I wasn’t quite there yet – and then helped me get there.

Lessons from New York

a.k.a. How Not To Look Like a Tourist

Last week I took a quick trip to NYC to visit this building (unreal, no?) and got to meet the team from Walker/Bloomsbury (also unreal).  I had an amazing time talking with Emily Easton, my editor at Walker, and Sarah Odedina, publisher of Bloomsbury UK.  And then it occurred to me that FRACTURE isn’t just going to be a document on my computer anymore, but will, at some point, be a real book, which is also unreal.

But instead of talking about all these unreal things, I am going to tell you some Very Real Things.  Specifically, some real things about visiting New York.  I’m originally from New Jersey, which, by definition, is kind of a suburb of Manhattan, so I didn’t give much thought to visiting New York.  But now it is apparent that living in the south has purged my brain of some very essential information.

So, without further ado, I give you the things I knew at one point, but had temporarily forgotten, but now know again:

-It does not matter what you think you remember from Driver’s Ed.  You do not have the right-of-way in the crosswalk.  Let me repeat that.  You do not have the right of way in the crosswalk.

-When someone honks at you, it does not mean, “Hey, long time, no see!  How’re the kids?”  No, it means you are probably in the crosswalk when you should not be in the crosswalk.  Do not smile and wave.

-When you get in a taxi and give your destination, quickly pretend to be on an important call so that when the driver asks which route you want to take, you can wave him off instead of saying, “Um, the short way?”  Thus ensuring you are going any way BUT the short way.

-Keep up with the flow of pedestrian traffic.  If you knock someone over with your luggage, do not stop and say, “Oops!”  And whatever you do, do not giggle.  KEEP MOVING.

-Slippers are frowned upon.  It does not matter if you just came from the airport and they’re really, really, comfy.  You should probably change into real shoes before wandering the city.

-If you smile at strangers, they will assume you are hitting on them.  Or that something is wrong with you.  Probably both.  Eyes on the empty space in front of you, people.

-That guy on the computer in the hotel lobby tagging pictures of himself on Facebook will not get off said computer just because you tap your foot loudly behind him.  I used to know a more effective way.  Words may have been involved.  Possibly some sort of confrontation.  It’s all a bit fuzzy now.

Anyway, once I reacquainted myself with New York, I had a great time.  Mostly because I also got to see these fantastic people:

       My Family             

Super-Agent Sarah Davies       
              

 Fellow Greenhouse Author, Talia Vance

And now, for the directionally-challenged (like me), I leave you some parting advice: Manhattan is a grid.  You cannot get lost.  As long as you stay above ground.  It does not matter if it is raining or snowing or the apocalypse is upon us.  Whatever you do, STAY ABOVE GROUND.