- Joined
- Mar 8, 2007
- Messages
- 7,011
- Reaction score
- 6,236
- Location
- the notion state
- Website
- telepathicparanoia.com
All right... here's my official announcement: I have an agent!
But I can't just leave it at that, so... gather 'round, kiddos, and I'll tell you a story.
A long, long time ago, back in November 2003, a girl with absolutely no experience writing fiction decided to write a novel. And yes, I have nanowrimo to blame for this -- I thought, 50,000 words in a month? And they don't even have to be good? I can do that.
And I did it -- I came up with an intriguing idea, some wonderfully quirky characters, and 50,000 words worth of sh*tty, plotless prose. That was the easy part.
I told myself I'd have the whole story expanded and fully polished within six months, a year at the longest. After a year and a half, I thought I had it good enough to publish -- I gave the MS to some friends to read, and they told me (kindly) how very wrong I was. So I worked some more, writing, revising, polishing... Got more friends to read, got better reviews. Finally, in June 2006 -- two and a half years after starting my novel -- I started submitting to agents. And I was so, so sure an agent would snap it up within the week.
Over the course of that summer, I sent out 18 snail queries, including my opening chapters. By fall, I had amassed 13 form rejections, 4 no response, and 1 full request. The one full was rejected soon after.
Round 2! Gave my query a complete overhaul. Dumped nearly my whole first chapter, and replaced it with something entirely different. In February 2007, I sent out 8 equeries, including opening pages. Things started happening... by some strange fluke, I wound up with 2 partial and 5 full requests! That's right, all but one query had a positive response. It was *definitely* happening this time.
And... no. Over the next few months, the rejections trickled in. A couple of forms, but more with comments. I heard the manuscript was too quiet, too violent, too wry and ironic, too distancing, too jokey, and insufficiently self-aware. But I also got some compliments: polished, intriguing premise, fresh, witty, wonderful sense of humor, great voice, perfect comic timing, verve, wit, fast-paced, engaging. I was compared to Nick Hornby and told I was a "natural storyteller." These words kept me going.
One of my rejectors was kind enough to offer fairly specific advice, and invite me to resubmit to her after revisions. I blew her off for a while, angry that no one had so far recognized my genius. Then I got some much-needed humility, and went back to the MS. In September 2007, I started again: I resubmitted to the agent who had asked, and I sent out fresh equeries to 16 more agents. Even though I used the same query and pages, I had significantly less success this time: 5 rejections, 8 no response, 1 partial request, 2 fulls, and another request from the agent who'd seen it before. Soon, the partial turned into a full.
I was less confident this time, but I still felt I had a chance. And then... right around Christmas 2007, the rejections started coming in again. A form, a very very close call, and one agent who felt the manuscript had potential, but fell apart at the end. He invited me to revise and resubmit.
Now I was really angry. I'd been at this submitting game for a year and a half! Why wasn't I getting any love yet? Full of ire and resentment, I rewrote my ending in a stupid, patronizing way, and sent it to him. Then, a month later, I came to my senses and sent him a different ending, more like the original ending, but better -- richer, more involving. When I didn't hear back from him right away, I started querying *yet again*.
Round 4: 5 snail, 3 equery. I had one instant full request of an equery, one rapid snail reject, and still haven't heard back from the others.
Last week, tired of waiting, sick of watching my life slip by, I sent nudges to the three remaining agents who still had my MS. One rejected me, saying the story was too meandering and unfocused. Another rejected me, saying almost the exact same thing. That was it for me -- I'd had enough.
I gave up. I posted a giving up post on AW. I cried. I ate. I drank (too much). I told the publishing world to go screw (in my head). I considered small presses. At last, I abandoned my beloved manuscript, four and half years in the making, and decided to focus on my WIP.
And monday morning. The last agent. The guy who read three different endings. My one last glimmer of hope, that I didn't dare believe in, because it was just too pathetic, too impossible, too much a long shot. Called me up and offered representation.
You know that crap they say about perserverence? Well golly gee, it turns out to be true.
But I can't just leave it at that, so... gather 'round, kiddos, and I'll tell you a story.
A long, long time ago, back in November 2003, a girl with absolutely no experience writing fiction decided to write a novel. And yes, I have nanowrimo to blame for this -- I thought, 50,000 words in a month? And they don't even have to be good? I can do that.
And I did it -- I came up with an intriguing idea, some wonderfully quirky characters, and 50,000 words worth of sh*tty, plotless prose. That was the easy part.
I told myself I'd have the whole story expanded and fully polished within six months, a year at the longest. After a year and a half, I thought I had it good enough to publish -- I gave the MS to some friends to read, and they told me (kindly) how very wrong I was. So I worked some more, writing, revising, polishing... Got more friends to read, got better reviews. Finally, in June 2006 -- two and a half years after starting my novel -- I started submitting to agents. And I was so, so sure an agent would snap it up within the week.
Over the course of that summer, I sent out 18 snail queries, including my opening chapters. By fall, I had amassed 13 form rejections, 4 no response, and 1 full request. The one full was rejected soon after.
Round 2! Gave my query a complete overhaul. Dumped nearly my whole first chapter, and replaced it with something entirely different. In February 2007, I sent out 8 equeries, including opening pages. Things started happening... by some strange fluke, I wound up with 2 partial and 5 full requests! That's right, all but one query had a positive response. It was *definitely* happening this time.
And... no. Over the next few months, the rejections trickled in. A couple of forms, but more with comments. I heard the manuscript was too quiet, too violent, too wry and ironic, too distancing, too jokey, and insufficiently self-aware. But I also got some compliments: polished, intriguing premise, fresh, witty, wonderful sense of humor, great voice, perfect comic timing, verve, wit, fast-paced, engaging. I was compared to Nick Hornby and told I was a "natural storyteller." These words kept me going.
One of my rejectors was kind enough to offer fairly specific advice, and invite me to resubmit to her after revisions. I blew her off for a while, angry that no one had so far recognized my genius. Then I got some much-needed humility, and went back to the MS. In September 2007, I started again: I resubmitted to the agent who had asked, and I sent out fresh equeries to 16 more agents. Even though I used the same query and pages, I had significantly less success this time: 5 rejections, 8 no response, 1 partial request, 2 fulls, and another request from the agent who'd seen it before. Soon, the partial turned into a full.
I was less confident this time, but I still felt I had a chance. And then... right around Christmas 2007, the rejections started coming in again. A form, a very very close call, and one agent who felt the manuscript had potential, but fell apart at the end. He invited me to revise and resubmit.
Now I was really angry. I'd been at this submitting game for a year and a half! Why wasn't I getting any love yet? Full of ire and resentment, I rewrote my ending in a stupid, patronizing way, and sent it to him. Then, a month later, I came to my senses and sent him a different ending, more like the original ending, but better -- richer, more involving. When I didn't hear back from him right away, I started querying *yet again*.
Round 4: 5 snail, 3 equery. I had one instant full request of an equery, one rapid snail reject, and still haven't heard back from the others.
Last week, tired of waiting, sick of watching my life slip by, I sent nudges to the three remaining agents who still had my MS. One rejected me, saying the story was too meandering and unfocused. Another rejected me, saying almost the exact same thing. That was it for me -- I'd had enough.
I gave up. I posted a giving up post on AW. I cried. I ate. I drank (too much). I told the publishing world to go screw (in my head). I considered small presses. At last, I abandoned my beloved manuscript, four and half years in the making, and decided to focus on my WIP.
And monday morning. The last agent. The guy who read three different endings. My one last glimmer of hope, that I didn't dare believe in, because it was just too pathetic, too impossible, too much a long shot. Called me up and offered representation.
You know that crap they say about perserverence? Well golly gee, it turns out to be true.