What's Your Favorite Sentence?

By Kim

A friend of mine recently alerted me to a potential agent to query. After some research, I clicked over to the agency website for submission instructions. This particular agent uses an online form rather than a traditional query letter, something I’ve encountered before, but the questions she asks…well…there are a few doozies mixed into the usual fare. Two are especially challenging, but they are useful exercises for writers and, I imagine, helpful to her in evaluating queries.

Adventures in Queryland

One thing she requests is a log-line, or a (hopefully compelling) one sentence description of your story. Thanks to Twitter contests like Pitch Madness and PitMad, I’ve got that handy. If you currently reside in Queryland and have not yet gone through the agonizing torture process of writing a log-line, it’s an enlightening experience. Agents have differing opinions about using log-lines in queries – some love it, some hate it – but if you can’t compose one, your manuscript may lack focus.

Here’s the request that had me stumped for a while: “Please share a favorite sentence from the manuscript you are submitting.” 

This agent mentioned in an interview that leaving this space blank is the biggest mistake writers make. It’s the first thing she sees – above the query letter – and it is a good place to hook her.

What she essentially wants is a tag line, that sentence often seen on the cover of a book. Yes, this is a tough one but, again, it could be a useful exercise for any writer.

Don’t know where to start? Here are some ideas. 

A) Most writers can compose pretty sentences, but pretty does not necessarily equal compelling. The chosen sentence must have tension or at least intrigue. A potential problem: conflict-filled scenes are often filled with short sentences. Staccato. Difficult to stand on their own.

B) If the agent does not rep romance, for example, it may be risky to have a sentence involving sensuality, declarations of love, or any hint of melodrama.

C) The sentence should reveal something about your specific characters or story. If it doesn’t, it may be too generic.


I’ll play guinea pig here, and offer up my original list of potential sentences as an example. Some clearly fall into the pitfalls I mention above.

1) The varnish, like my smile, is but a protective skin painted over a wound that will take a lifetime to heal.

2) I lie awake most nights and imagine sorrow seeps from the cracks in our bedroom ceiling.

3) Under the right circumstances, any sin might be forgivable.

4)  I must let her leave, but I refuse to ever let her go.

5) Leaving her would be both my life’s greatest regret and an act of kindness.

6) Her touch is light, gentle, and it lulls me into such a drowsy state that I pay no attention to what she does until I feel the cold blade of the scissors pressed against my scalp.

7) I promised to love, honor and argue with him until death us do part.

8) My greatest fear is that God will punish me for this crime with a long and miserable separation before He allows me to join Carl in heaven.

9) I can’t be both a good mother and the wife Carl needs.

10) No matter what method I choose, creation’s process is physical, messy, and exhilarating—a sensual act filled with intoxicating smells and infinite variety.

11) I touch her back, a silent apology while the gentle brown rain falls onto the casket.

12) I’d rather suffocate together than languish apart.

The "Sound" I refer to in # 13 - Owen Sound, Ontario

13) When Carl paints well, his soul is like the Sound’s channel, where viridian and Prussian blue waves dance, collide, and merge into a turquoise vibrant enough to make my eyes ache.

14) Without me, he’d probably be ten years in his grave, but history would remember him as a Master.

15) He must be first; before the children, before music, before anything at all, and not just first, but second and third, too.

16) Barili dangles a golden carrot in front of her and my illness will forever shackle her just out of its reach.
 

When you have your list, send it to a bunch of people for their opinions. My What Women Write colleagues helped narrow my list ten. Here it is again, with strikeouts.


1) The varnish, like my smile, is but a protective skin painted over a wound that will take a lifetime to heal.

2) I lie awake most nights and imagine sorrow seeps from the cracks in our bedroom ceiling.

3) Under the right circumstances, any sin might be forgivable.

4) I must let her leave, but I refuse to ever let her go. 

5) Leaving her would be both my life’s greatest regret and an act of kindness.

6) Her touch is light, gentle, and it lulls me into such a drowsy state that I pay no attention to what she does until I feel the cold blade of the scissors pressed against my scalp.

7) I promised to love, honor and argue with him until death us do part.

8) My greatest fear is that God will punish me for this crime with a long and miserable separation before He allows me to join Carl in heaven. 

9) I can’t be both a good mother and the wife Carl needs. 

10) No matter what method I choose, creation’s process is physical, messy, and exhilarating—a sensual act filled with intoxicating smells and infinite variety. 

11) I touch her back, a silent apology while the gentle brown rain falls onto the casket.

12) I’d rather suffocate together than languish apart. 

Woodland Pool by Carl Ahrens - the "Master" in # 14

13) When Carl paints well, his soul is like the Sound’s channel, where viridian and Prussian blue waves dance, collide, and merge into a turquoise vibrant enough to make my eyes ache.

14) Without me, he’d probably be ten years in his grave, but history would remember him as a Master.

15) He must be first; before the children, before music, before anything at all, and not just first, but second and third, too.

16) Barili dangles a golden carrot in front of her and my illness will forever shackle her just out of its reach. 


We have a diverse group and all had strong opinions. No one agreed. I sent my shortened list to an editor friend and the one she chose (with plural exclamation points) confirmed my instinctual choice. I do not offer it here because I’m curious to see what you think. 

What sentence grabs you the most and why? Are there any you would cross off the list?

I Double-dog Dare You!

By Pamela

Flickr Creative Commons photo by david.orban

As kids we'd often play Truth or Dare whenever we'd run out of things to do. It became a game more about dares than truths. No one really cared to hear another person's truism. We just wanted to see our siblings, neighbors or cousins do something gross like eat a bug or touch tongues.

Yesterday, I decided to be a little daring with my writing. While still in recovery mode from a crazy, record-setting month of work-writing, I took an idea I had for an article and pitched it to a national publication. It required some work on my end--researching publications, finding a magazine that took submissions from strangers, fine-tuning my proposal--but I felt compelled to see what-if. What if I dared to see what might happen?

It's way too soon to know if my proposal has merit, but while I'm waiting to hear a response--knowing I might hear nothing at all--I've decided to play a little game of Truth or Dare. Care to join me?

TRUTH: Unless you're a famous or notorious person with a platform, no agent will come to you and ask for your book.

DARE: Start the book you've been thinking/obsessing/talking about for years and set a goal to finish it. Then edit/polish/critique it among honest writerly friends and then submit it. 

TRUTH: Most newspapers, magazines, websites and such accept work from freelance writers. (In your newspaper, look for a byline that reads: Special contributor ... or Contributing writer ... That means the person doesn't have a desk at the paper and submitted an idea or article to the feature's editor.)

DARE: Outline an idea you have for a story and then find some place to pitch it. If you're great at topics about women's health, nearly every women's magazine has a section devoted to it and guidelines for submissions are typically found on their websites under the 'about us' or 'contact us' tab. Be assiduous in submitting, though. You don't want an editor to pass on your great idea just because you didn't follow her guidelines. 

TRUTH: Writing contests abound.You can search online for contests or get email alerts from writing resources such as The Writer or Writers' Digest. 

DARE: Enter a contest or two or three. If your goal is to make a lot of money, then you'll have fewer options. But, if your goal is to get your work out there, get feedback from the industry (which usually amounts to either acceptance or rejection but not details), and possibly gain some great lines to include in your bio when you query, then go for it! One caution: most contests will ask for an admission fee. Make sure you can afford it.

TRUTH: Writing is hard. Writing well is hard. Writing well enough to get published is hard.

DARE: If you have ideas for stories and lack confidence to get them on paper, then take a class at your local college. Look online for workshops in your area. Ask your local library, book seller, or community college for information or to be added to their email alerts. Immerse yourself into the writing world, put on your most literary hat and call yourself a writer.

TRUTH: According to PublishersMarketplace, there are over 40,000 publishing professionals (i.e. agents, editors, publishers) who read their daily PubLunch. Forty thousand is a lot of publishing people. You only need to attract the attention of one. 

DARE: Before you query your manuscript, make a list of your top ten agents. My favorite site for researching agents is QueryTracker.net. It's easy to navigate and free. If you find more than ten agents you think will love your story, make an A, B and C list and decide how to proceed. Some writers like to test their query on their C list to see if they're getting requests. Others like to start with A and work their way down. Make sure you're putting your best work out there and that any agent you query would be one you'd love to work with.

TRUTH: The market is murky. According to Bowker.com (the company that issues ISBNs for publications) in 2009, 1.3 million new books were published. A year later, that number grew to 4.1 million. Keep in mind, the majority of those titles fell into a category labeled 'non-traditional.' Here is Bowker's definition: Non-traditional consists largely of reprints, often public domain, and other titles printed on-demand. The number also includes records received too late to receive subject classification. In other words, there are a lot of books being printed rather than being published. 

DARE: Stand out from the crowd. Exhaust every means available to you to traditionally publish your book before going the self-published route. Getting an agent doesn't cost you a dime. Editors pay YOU for your book. Self-publishing costs you money and while there are success stories out there, they're rare. Be brave. Send your work out to an agent or even directly to a small press. Get paid for all your brilliance. You deserve it. 

A Writer's Words

By Pamela

As writers, we have limited avenues in which to express ourselves. Unlike an architect who can be remembered by his or her buildings or an artist whose paintings can be admired and displayed, writers are known and judged by the pages they produce. How we choose to be remembered is up to what we put out for public consumption.

Several years ago at the urging of Susan, I read Jantsen's Gift--a story of a mother's grief and her channeling it as a champion for child slaves. Although the story belongs to Pam Cope, Aimee Molloy is credited with putting the words on the page as her co-author.

Image by Josef.Stuefer, Flickr, Creative Commons.

Writing someone else's story isn't a rare concept. In fact, even some volumes of fiction begin with an author's creation of characters (e.g. Nancy Drew, The Boxcar Children, Goosebumps) and then other writers step in to help turn out books to meet reader demand--a concept also embraced by James Patterson who lends his name to brand books by lesser-known authors. But ghostwriting (or co-authoring, if the author gets cover credit) likely prevails most often when a celebrity, politician or person has a story to tell and not the skills to put it into a marketable account. In steps the ghostwriter.

After reading Jantsen's Gift and other memoirs, I became curious about whether or not I might be able to try my hand at ghostwriting. I was already making a decent work-from-home income as a freelance writer but thought this might be an opportunity worth pursuing. So, a little over two years ago, I picked up the phone and called a literary agency with an impressive list of self-help books and personal memoirs. When I asked if they hired ghostwriters, to my delight the receptionist said yes and to please submit my resume. To my shock, a few months later, an agent called and asked if I would like to talk to one of their clients who was interviewing ghostwriters for her memoir.

A few days later, I found myself being interviewed, by the agent and client, to write a book proposal. The following day, the client hired me. Over the next few months, we talked on the phone and I traveled to meet with her in person, compiling pages of notes transcribed from hours of taped conversations. Eventually, I completed a 60+ page proposal everyone seemed to be pleased with. And then I waited. And waited.

Knowing that the publishing business moves slowly, this didn't surprise me. But finally, nine months later, the agent let me know that the client decided to shift her focus back on her career and was no longer seeking publication. Sure I was disappointed, but fortunately I hadn't given up on my freelance work, so I was minimally affected by her decision.

Then yesterday I got an email alert about this client; I had set alerts a couple years ago and neglected to remove them from my account. My client had resigned from her job after admitting to sexual misconduct--a sad ending to a career that had been wrought with overcoming adversity.

I wasn't shocked so much as saddened by the news. And then, to be honest, I was a little relieved--relieved that the project I worked so hard on never came to fruition. Because, as a writer, I'm judged by the words I put to the page. My words, even if it's someone else's story. The story she told me didn't include the news I heard yesterday, even though the incident happened long before I met her. Her story, the one I was hired to tell, wouldn't have been completely honest.

As I put my head to my pillow last night, images of her in the news flashed before me and I pictured this never-released book being part of the story. What if my name was on the cover next to hers? What if a news venue called me and asked did I know? What if ... ?

Today, I sit at my computer with a stack of assignments at my elbow, grateful that my quiet, unassuming life as a freelance writer and wanna-be novelist goes on without much fanfare. It certainly makes me take stock in my work and what my name is associated with. Because, as a writer, my words are all I have.

School's In!

Photo by Deborah Downes

By Kim

I don’t know about the rest of you Mama Writers out there, but summer in the Bullock household means an enforced twelve-week vacation from any real productivity. Short of rewriting parts of my opening two chapters for the 327th time, I spent my summer shuttling children back and forth to various camps or living at the dance studio while my aspiring ballerina logged in ten grueling hours of class a week.

I didn’t mind the break because I knew that it would allow me to return to my finished manuscript with fresh eyes and see those places where the polish is a bit thinner, or the transition a bit weaker. There were times I looked longingly at my computer, but consoled myself with the thought that I had no reason to rush through final edits, polishing a query letter, or finishing the dreaded synopsis. Most agents I want to submit to would be on vacation anyway.

After taking a few first-day pictures of my beaming second grader and my startlingly grown-up sixth grader, I dropped them off at school on Monday and rushed home. The house seemed too quiet and as I opened my manuscript I heard a small whine from the day-bed. The dog gazed at me mournfully, lost without a child to cuddle with. So I cuddled with him, and I mourned the thought that this was the very last first-day that my children would attend the same school.

All too soon the baby I held back in 2001 will be in middle school. She’ll make new friends, try new activities, and continue to nurture her passion for dance. I’ll have to let her go, to watch and worry as she transitions that much closer to an independent life, to hope that I have guided her well and armed her with the courage to hold tight to who she is through those harrowing adolescent years.

An entirely different kind of adolescent waits impatiently on the hard drive of my computer. This one demands independence now, and very soon I will have to let it go out into the world. And I’ll check my inbox incessantly, waiting and worrying, hoping for word that I shaped it well enough to stand on its own.

Plate-Spinning

By Susan

Remember the old vaudeville act? Where the entertainer tosses plates upon sticks and gets them spinning? All of a sudden, he's got five or six plates balancing and whirling at electric speed. His wrists flick and twitch, touching the rim of each platter, keeping plates balanced and in motion as they sit atop delicate sticks. And he moves frantically, never allowing a sphere to slow its spin, and the plates merely whirl away while our actor races from plate to plate, keeping the objects in motion.

Moments before, our entertainer had been standing silently, calmly, simply smiling at the audience. Now he's a frantic hot mess trying to make it look effortless. The plates simply spin.

Yeah. That’s me. I've been standing around smiling for a while, now. Months, actually. Since I stopped working full-time and committed myself to The Novel, sure—I've signed with my agent and endured pain-staking and critical edits. But it's nothing like my life before, when I juggled children and a commute and full-time work and a spouse and everything else that comes with being a working mom. For six months, things have been cool. I've stood on the stage and looked out over the audience benevolently. Mrs.-Peaceful-Stay-At-Home-Writer-Mom.

In a very short period of time, everything has changed. The show has begun, and all of my plates started spinning. Now I'm the one racing back and forth across the stage.

A month ago yesterday, our home was hit by a tornado. Thirteen days after the storm Brilliant Agent suggested a new story line, one to weave through my existing story, one that could change the trajectory of my tome and launch my story to a different level. And then two weeks ago, I received an answered prayer in the form of a magical text from across the sea, followed by a gift of reconciliation for a friendship I thought long gone.

Next, a new seed began to sprout in my brain regarding a dream of mine—one that hinges on the sale of The Novel and involves a trip back to Ghana, and in my agitated super-busy state I decided that now was the time to make that dream a reality. Phone calls, emails and meetings ensued. Realizing my over-worked state, I decided that now was the time to begin a fasting-diet, where I attempt to replace food with walking, quiet time, prayer and meditation (wish me luck!) This week, I completed applications for summer writing workshops—thinking that might make me take myself seriously as a writer. All the while, contractors have come and gone in the name of the tornado, replacing my roof and joists and windows and gutters and siding and fence and gates…. Well, you get the picture.

My plates, once resting in the cupboard, are now spinning furiously, all while I seek a sacred place to do one thing: write.

The new storyline in The Novel keeps tugging at my heart. Brilliant Agent was right in her suggestion. In stolen moments I hunkered down to write, feeling like it wasn't enough. Yet I kicked out almost twenty pages of new words last week in the midst of my plate-spinning. New words on white paper! I've looked around my new-ish home and it is good. I see the new sub plot and I am pleased. Things are falling together, like the Big Bang of creation where order comes from chaos. In one big cruel April, all my plate-spinning actually paid off.

I realized that in these frantic bursts of busy-ness, I got things done—including my writing. The days of the smiling Mrs.-Peaceful-Stay-at-Home-Writer-Mom are over. I do better when I'm at my busiest. I write more, I think faster, and it all comes together. I don't need another plate to introduce itself into my act, but somehow I know those additional plates are coming. What can I say? Bring it on.

Hurry Up and Wait

You can also play with cover ideas!

By Kim

A couple of weeks ago I edited the complete manuscript for The Oak Lovers and sent it to my first round of critique partners and Beta readers. Fellow What Women Write contributor, Joan Mora, advised patience.

“Don’t be too surprised, or too frustrated, if your Beta readers don’t read as fast as you’d like them to,” she said. Joan’s recently been there, done that, and she knows of what she speaks.

Of course, I thought. Just because people have been telling me for years that they can’t wait to read my book doesn’t mean they will open the document the moment it hits their inbox. Some of them have edits of their own to do or deadlines looming. Many have jobs, kids, or both. One just had a tornado hit her house. Really. Others may be overwhelmed by having a four-hundred page document that they have not only agreed to read, but to comment on. What if they don’t like it? What if something doesn’t work? How can they break it to me? (Hint: Just tell me.)

All writers encounter this no-man’s land between composition and submission, so I thought it may be helpful to offer some suggestions for how to pass the time.

Research agents and compose your query. A no-brainer.

Google yourself. Has your blog been neglected? Do you have a website? If not, do you need one? If so, does it need a facelift? Mine did! (Check out my handiwork here.)

Purge office of clutter. Obviously, I’m not about to throw out family documents, but I no longer need files on secondary characters or books on Ojibwa ceremonies. Vintage postcards of settings used in The Oak Lovers can be stowed away like old love letters. This is a break up of sorts. If old voices linger in my mind, it will be harder to hear any new ones.

Brainstorm new projects. I have a few ideas.

Cook. This tip may work better in other homes. In mine it's a futile exercise. I have yet to find a single thing that all members of my family enjoy.

Clean. Dust those high shelves. Organize those cabinets. Dare to face your child’s closet.

Tackle unfinished house projects. Paint a room. Hang new blinds. Install new flooring. Garden.

Read. I don’t know about you, but my to-be-read pile has became a bookshelf, and it's overflowing!

Have a glass of wine. Or two. You’ve earned it.

What you should not do: Open your manuscript. You will think every word you've written is crap. Trust me on this.

The long and completely true story of how Julie found her dream agent!

By Julie

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I’d been offered representation, but decided to let it settle around me for a while before I talked about it here on the blog. I wanted to be sure my priorities were in order, and my last full post came from that place. It’s still true; so much in life is more important than landing the right agent.

But you know what? It’s still pretty darn cool. So now I’m talking about it. It's a long post—I hope you'll bear with me!

As an unagented writer, I spent hours poring over search results, combing the blogosphere for stories about writers and their agents. On the one hand, it was a great way to research the process—to discover why authors queried certain agents, how long it took to find an agent, how many queries they sent before getting “the call,” what kinds of questions they asked before signing the contract, and so on. On the other hand, these posts were like little pep talks. When I read success stories—especially from authors I know—I got butterflies in my stomach. Realizing dreams, it seemed, wasn’t an impossibility.

I got that feeling when I read Therese Walsh’s post on the fabulous Writer Unboxed blog: “Home Run! Therese Finds her Perfect Agent!” back in the fall of 2008. I’d only just begun compiling a list of agents to query with my last manuscript. (Yes, there were others, may they rest in peace. It was my first to query.) I’d known Teri a while online. We’d both taken classes from the same amazing author (Barbara Samuel O’Neal), were in some of the same online forums, and eventually clicked to become Facebook friends. I admired Teri’s determination and attitude and absolute transparency when it came to her writing journey. Her character alone was a recommendation for her agent, but I also liked what I saw on Elisabeth’s website—who she’d chosen to represent and what kinds of books they were writing. So I added Elisabeth Weed’s name to my query list, dreaming of the day when I’d finally send my first letter out.

In May 2009, I sent my first query to the agent at the top of my list—Elisabeth Weed. I sent two more, just to be on the safe side. (Ha!) Imagine my excitement when I opened my inbox the next day to receive a request for the first fifty pages of my manuscript from Elisabeth. I was beside myself, and after the emails flew among my fellow What Women Write ladies, I jotted a quick note to Teri, telling her I’d received a request and if the time came, would she mind me picking her brain about Elisabeth. “Woot! Julie, that’s awesome! Of course, send any questions along as things progress. Elisabeth is terrific. Good luck!” (Facebook is so sweet to keep all these conversations for so long … and kind of creepy, too.)

Now imagine my dismay when my first rejection also came from Elisabeth Weed—and one of the nicest I received. I knew there would be many more before it was all over. I’d queried other agents in the interim, of course, and kept doing so for several more months while another story began tugging at my heart. I didn’t query a huge number of agents—maybe twenty five in all. I received a decent number of partial requests and one full, but each was followed by another rejection. I was already getting a sense that maybe it wasn’t “the one.” While I loved the story, and the characters lived on in my mind and heart (still do!), I suspected it wasn’t where I was supposed to be as a writer. It was trying too hard to be like another author I loved (waving at Jodi Picoult, as if she’ll ever read this!). It was time to move on. I’d been attempting to write a new story in the same niche while I queried, but after nearly fifty thousand words, I put it aside as well.

That other story, the one that started tugging at my heart early on, just wouldn’t let me go. I’d learned a surprising bit of family lore from my father. One line, basically, with no more hints of what happened: As a teen, my grandmother had fallen deeply in love with a young black man, and their families ripped them apart. It was all he knew, and none of the involved parties were living, so it’s all I’ll ever know. But it wouldn’t let me go. I began to imagine what might have been. I selected a setting and time period, slightly different from when and where my grandmother lived, but perfect for my story, did a lot of research on the area, laws, time periods, and anything else written on the subject. In April 2010, I wrote the first 30 thousand words or so during a Backspace writing marathon. Over the next several months, I added another 45 thousand, and in November, I did my own version of NaNoWriMo (NaNoFiMo: National Novel Finishing Month!), to write the final 30 thousand words.

I mostly ignored the file over the holidays, then pulled it out to begin revising in earnest after the New Year. I began setting my beta readers upon it (I picture them like a school of beta fish going after their dinner) in mid-February. After the critique of my marvelous group, some non-writers, and several more months of fiddling with the thing, I finally decided it was time to query. I ran my query letter by my critique group a few hundred times, and also by my trusty fellow Backspacers, who poked and prodded at it gently and graciously.

I sent a few queries at the end of June, but this time I didn’t query Elisabeth first. I wanted to be sure my query letter was effective. I didn’t want to waste an opportunity. Because she was still at the top of my list. I received a request for a partial from another agent immediately, and was thrilled, but by then, the last few members of What Women Write had read and critiqued CALLING ME HOME and I realized I had a little more work to do. I was relieved I hadn’t sent more queries or partials into the ether.

A couple of weeks and some hard revisions later, I was ready to query again. This time, late Thursday, July 14, I sent my first letter to Elisabeth. I sent a few more a few hours later, just to be on the safe side. (Is this sounding like the movie Groundhog Day? It kind of is. Keep reading!)

Imagine my excitement when I received a request Monday afternoon for a partial from Stephanie Sun, Elisabeth’s delightful assistant (who is now building her own list!), on Elisabeth’s behalf. I hadn’t said anything to my group, wanting to query under the radar for a bit, but of course I couldn’t contain my excitement and the emails started flying. I sent a note to Teri—shocked to find my old note floated back up in Facebook, reminding me exactly when I’d messaged about the last time I’d queried!—and I said something much the same, but perhaps not quite as confident as when I was a brand new querier the first time around. “AWESOME!!” Teri wrote. “I’ll put in a good word for you and cross my fingers!” She suggested a relaxing glass of wine, though within a day or two I said I probably needed to upgrade to Jack Daniels. (If you know me at all, this should make you laugh pretty hard—Julie doesn’t do alcohol very well at all. I stuck with wine and not much of it.)

The next day, I received another email, this time from Elisabeth herself. “I just read the first three chapters of Calling Me Home and think they are terrific! Will you send me the rest? I can't wait to see how this love story unfolds.”

O.M.G. Let me think about that ... OF COURSE I WILL! I sent it off late that night after madly making sure all my i‘s were dotted and t’s were crossed. (I emailed Teri: “What did you tell her? That I can perform miracles?” Teri responded that she had her toes crossed, too, now.)

The next day, Wednesday, I received a note from another published friend who has been an incredible mentor to me over the years. She’d asked if she could read my manuscript a few weeks earlier. Her note said she loved it and wanted to recommend it on to her agent with my permission. WHAT?! I was overwhelmed. I wasn’t sleeping or eating much by then. Her agent agreed to read the full manuscript and I sent it off that day.

I wasn’t sure how to handle this with Elisabeth. I’d heard it was polite to send other agents a note when other agents had your full manuscript. Others said only to nudge if you’d received an offer of representation. I was conflicted. I asked Teri what she thought, and she said it couldn’t hurt to let Elisabeth know.

I think the new request was providence.

I contacted Elisabeth, and it turned out she hadn’t received my full manuscript for some reason. “I'm so glad you emailed. I requested the rest of your ms yesterday and hadn't heard back from you. Clearly you didn't get it. Please send so I can read the rest. I'm loving it!” Then, later: “I am so glad you emailed again as I was seriously refreshing my email, hoping I had this to read tonight!”

Needless to say, I was allowing myself to hope at this point. Just a little. But trying to keep my cool.

To make a short story long … I received another email from Elisabeth the next Tuesday: “Dear Julie, I literally just finished reading this at my desk! Thank you so much for sending Calling Me Home my way. I loved it!” and later, after she commented more on the story and some revisions she anticipated it needed, “I am having Stephanie, my trusted colleague read alongside me and was hoping you and I could find some time to talk. Are you around tomorrow or Thursday?”

Was I around the next two days? Of course I was. And was this … The Call?

I was dying from anticipation. It felt like it was going to be The Call. But I wasn’t going to count my chickens before they hatched.

I emailed Teri, “Note from Elisabeth today saying she loved my manuscript and wants to speak by phone call tomorrow or Thursday! Good sign, yes?!?!”

Teri: “Oh, this makes me soooo happy! Yes, a very good sign.”

Turns out that stinker already knew Elisabeth was going to offer representation, but she was gracious enough to let me hear the words from Elisabeth herself the next day: “In case it’s not clear, I’m calling to offer you representation.”

So on Wednesday, July 29, We spent more than an hour on the phone, discussing my manuscript, how she saw it positioned in the marketplace, how she typically worked with clients, and so on. By the time we finished talking, I’d ticked all the questions off my “things to ask potential agent” list without even having to ask most of them. And though the majority of articles you read about considering offers of representation say to thank the agent and tell her you’ll get back to her after you’d have a chance to consider, and to notify any other agents reading your manuscript, I had a gut feeling. I told her, “I’m just going to go ahead and say now that I feel good about this. You’ve been my top pick from the day I sent my first query two years ago, you’ve answered all my questions, and I can’t see any reason not to say yes today.”

After we disconnected, my daughter, my wonderful, wise girl who got the first post after this experience, said, “You just sounded like you were talking to one of your writer friends.”

It was more confirmation I’d made the right decision. I sent a note to the other agent who had my full, letting her know that while I appreciated her offer to read and admired her for doing such a truly fabulous job for my friend, I believed I was making the right decision in accepting Elisabeth’s offer. She was gracious and full of good wishes.

So here I am, a month or so later, an agented author. August is no-man’s land in the publishing world, so we’ve taken that time to fine tune my manuscript. I’ve completed two sets of revisions and it sounds like we’re on target for Elisabeth to start submitting to editors soon! I can’t wait to see what happens next.

I hope you’ll take this post as I did all those times I read about The Call—as a few words to the wise, and a reason to keep following your dreams.

Most of all, I want to take a moment to thank some dear friends who helped make this the exciting and relatively painless process it was this time around. Therese Walsh, author extraordinaire of The Last Will of Moira Leahy and creator of Writer Unboxed. And my other friend—the fabulous multi-published Diane Chamberlain. (Both of them have been our special guests on What Women Write, here and here.) And of course, my amazing group of women right here at What Women Write. (And my BFF Gail, who is not yet a writer, but is determined I’ll need a personal assistant ASAP.) This kind of feels like an academy awards speech, so I’m stopping there for now.

But this only reinforces what I’ve known for a few years now. The writing community isn’t a tank full of sharks, circling to devour one another (well, maybe there are a few sharks, but I haven’t run across any yet). It’s a community of friends who look out for each other and help each other along the way. I hope I’ll always remember to pay it forward.

P.S. That picture up there--it's my two girls. That picture was taken the evening of the afternoon I got The Call. They were NOT at our house, and I have no idea what they celebrating, but I like how they do it!

What matters most

By Julie

Some of you may already know I received The Call last week—a phone call from my dream agent offering representation. I was, of course, beside myself with excitement.

In the last several years, I've practiced my craft and paid my dues by writing several manuscripts—one full and two halves that never saw the light of day, and one I hoped would garner an agent and book contract but didn't. I've always dreamed of a traditional book contract negotiated by a reputable agent and seeing my name on a book spine alongside the logo of a highly regarded publishing imprint. It seems I may be one step closer to that dream, and I can't wait to see where things go.

But today's post is about what really matters.

I've been winding down the summer with my girls. One already started full-time band camp last week, four weeks ahead of school start, because that's how we do it in Texas. After a month away on various trips, the other ended up with a month to relax before her senior year because she's no longer in band and her job shifts only occur here and there.

Between getting the younger one out the door in the morning, making sure she's sleeping enough, taking enough water, eating enough breakfast, arranging carpools, and so on, my older daughter and I have enjoyed some rare hanging-out time. We enjoy listening to music, talking about books or movies, running occasional errands, and so on. Also walking the dogs.

We wait until 9:30 or 10 p.m., sometimes even 11, before venturing out with our little maniacs—two rescued girls who slumber around the house all day, then burst through the front door as if they've been in straightjackets or something (which they definitely have NOT). If it's 110 degrees during the day, it might have cooled 10 or 20 degrees by then, making the temperature a balmy 90 … or 99, as it was last night when we walked.

We walk for 30 minutes, usually dropping off the older dog halfway (a Shar pei mix who can't handle the heat as well) and taking the adolescent dog for another round.

A byproduct of this hanging out, these late night walks, is my girl and I have refreshed and renewed our relationship, which was good to begin with but is even more delightful now as she enters her season of passing from child to adult. As the dogs pull us like we are sleds, then finally settle into a calmer lope, we talk about colleges and boys and friends and boys and dreams and boys.

The other night, we returned from our walk, worn out and burning up even at 11 p.m. and 90 degrees. We continued our conversation a little while longer, then she drifted upstairs for bed and I settled in at my laptop for a few more computer tasks.

A few minutes later, I received this text, which I share with permission:

Hey. I just want to say thanks for all you do and all you are. We've had our rough times, but where we are now is wonderful. You are one of my best friends (next to Steph, of course! :P) and I love that! I love you. :) So … Yeah. That is all. Good night. :)


And, of course, after I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat, I sent off a response I hope made her feel as good as her note made me feel.

And as I begin the next steps of my writing journey, I am excited, nervous, terrified and dreaming. But more than that, I am thankful. Thankful for this small, but oh, so enormous moment that made me pause and remember what really matters.

Without moments like these, the rest is meaningless.

Photo credit: len.melanson's Flickr photostream / by Creative Commons license

Comfort

By Susan

I first met Pamela Hammonds, Elizabeth Lynd and Joan Mora (three of the fabulous writers here on What Women Write) at the DFW Writer’s Conference in February, 2009. Here is an archived post from that first weekend with my impression of my new friends and my terror at entering the world of "real writers." I’ve come a long way, and still have a long way to go. Just goes to show how important--and long lasting--a community of writers can be. Enjoy!


I had the opportunity to attend my first writer’s conference this weekend. Saturday night, after a full day of pitch practice, seminars, and trying-not-to-look-like-the-new-girl, I was in a near panic about my upcoming 10-minute session on Sunday morning with an agent to discuss my novel-in-progress.

Practicing your pitch feels like the sales training I endure in my real life: What is your elevator pitch? How can you summarize your product (book) in 25 words or less? Can you do it in 250 words? Can you sell it to an agent?

I decided, after writing it--tearing it up, writing, scribbling it out--that I WAS NOT READY. So I decided to forego my agent pitch. I decided to opt out.

And then, Sunday morning, I met Pamela. She writes for a living. She was pitching her completed novel, and it’s her second novel. She pitched it to the agent, and he asked for the first two chapters. First steps toward success!

Now I must digress, because I have never met a full blown Pamela, just Pams. Secondly, my childhood imaginary friend was named Pamela: Pamela Allen, to be exact. Pamela Allen cleaned my room, minded my mother, washed behind my ears, and was the author of my short stories, many done in crayon. Pamela Allen was the perfect me, while I was the normal me. Not perfect.

The real Pamela I met Sunday introduced me to her friends, calmed my nerves, and gave me pointers on my pitch. I decided to talk to the agent after all. Pamela, much like my old childhood imaginary friend, gave me comfort.

My children do not have imaginary friends. My oldest daughter Parker is too literal for such nonsense, and always has been. Instead of an imaginary friend for comfort, she has her favorite pair of toe-socks, which she named her ”woobeesah.” I asked Pey, my little one, if, by chance, she had an imaginary friend. She looked puzzled. “No, Mommy, but I do have Lion!” Lion, a gift from my father to her three years ago, goes everywhere with Pey, including her sleepover Saturday night with our best friends across the street. A sleepover, I must add, that Pey was not so sure about. What if she missed her Mommy? What if it stormed? Could she come home, she asked, if she had a bad dream in the middle of the night?

No, I had answered her. But she could come home before they went to sleep if she thought it was a better idea.

So, of course, at 10:40 p.m., my husband and I heard a soft tap on the front door. Standing there, in a yellow nightie with Lion under one arm and her suitcase under the other, was Pey. My neighbor Kimberly stood at the end of the drive, smiling and waving to me in the dark. My little Pey, my tough, independent Pey. She looked up at me with her big green eyes. “Well, I missed you, Mommy,” she said matter-of-factly, and then climbed into our bed and promptly fell asleep, Lion in the crook of her arm, her hand tucked sweetly into mine. Comfort.

Sometimes, when we are not ready, it’s good to find the comfort of the familiar.


And it all made me think about comfort, and how much we crave and need it--especially when life is uncertain or we are out of our element. Parker has socks. Pey has Lion. I had Pamela Allen. And Sunday, I had the comfortable support from a new network of writers. I did meet with the agent, and I stumbled through a rambling description of my work in progress. I did make new friends. I did learn about where I need to go with my novel (the agent wants to see it, by the way). And in the end, it was all quite comfortable.

Whether it’s socks, an imaginary friend, a Lion, or a real friend, comfort is one thing I suppose we never get too old for. And I, for one, am thankful for it.

Disappointment

by Joan

I’ve had a file lingering for a while in my blog folder. The title is Disappointment and the page is blank. Somewhere on my messy desk are notes where I fully expected the idea to flourish and mature, with just the right amount of cleverness and humility worthy of the topic.

But I don’t need notes to remember the hours spent writing, revising, editing, critiquing. The joy about an idea or scene I wanted to write and the pain at my inability to get it just so. Who am I to call myself a writer? Dani Shapiro is a writer. Dara Horn is a writer. Kate Morton is a writer.

I’m minutes away from putting my third manuscript in the drawer. Even now, I can't describe my disappointment at this decision. The anguish of leaving behind not only a story I've spent so much time with, but characters I will mourn and a setting that won't fade from my mind, no matter how hard I try. Just the other day I got another Bodleian Friend's Newsletter, and in it, a eulogy on one of the Bodleian's first women librarians, there at just the same time as my character Gigi Dottie.

A recent post by Janet Reid linking to Tawna Fenske’s blog post got me thinking: I’m not alone in my disappointment. And I’m not embarrassed by it either. There are probably thousands of writers just like me, putting endless hours and painstaking devotion into their manuscripts. Honing their prose, chasing the perfect word or phrase. Searching for the perfect agent. Tawna Fenske found hers and so will I.

Some might think I’m wrong to share my stats, but here's how they played out:

Manuscript #3: 104 queries or conference pitches resulting in 11 full and 12 partial requests

Manuscript #2 (co-written with Pamela): 127 queries or pitches resulting in 15 requests (full and partial)

Manuscript #1: 45 queries or pitches resulting in 5 full and 4 partial requests

There were plenty of non-responses to queries, but most disappointing were the non-responses to partial and full submissions, six months, a year, two years later. Like many writers, I’ve moved on to my next project. And although I’m deep into the story, I still hold out hope that I'll get the chance to resurrect one or more of my earlier manuscripts--or that the sole outstanding full submission on #3 will turn into a yes.

Yes, receiving rejections is disappointing, whether they're non-answers, form rejections, or no-thank-yous based on a partial or full. But mostly I’m disappointed in myself. That I sent out my manuscripts before they were ready. Sent them out before they could have been the best that they could be.

Instead of wallowing in my disappointment, though, I’m going to use it. I’m going to harness the negative energy to fire up my current WIP. To take my joy and excitement about number four and make it just so.

Thanks!

By Joan

I’m not the first writer to acknowledge how truly embarrassed I am by the first manuscripts I sent to beta readers. One early reader suggested my first attempt (ultimately abandoned!) would be better if reserved for a private journal. That stung a little then, but in retrospect, she was probably right.

In March 2005, I actually sent my first completed manuscript to an author friend with this note: “Well, believe it or not, I’ve managed to finish my manuscript. There is a problem with length; it’s only a bit over 40,000 words.” She was polite enough not to tell me to find another career, quickly. Then she proceeded to read it and send it back, with extremely helpful comments. I didn’t even know enough then to be embarrassed by what I’d sent her!

Thankfully, I quickly figured out I needed guidance and stumbled first upon DFW Writers’ Workshop and then Lesser North Texas Writers (a small group of dedicated writers who meet every week to offer critique). From there I found some new critique partners, many of whom spent hours reading my work. (Finding the right critique partner is essential to improving your writing.)

Then I began querying. As much as I’d thought my first manuscript had improved (now 75,000 words!), it still wasn’t ready. I never received a hurtful rejection—some agents sent generic “Dear Author,” but never, “This is drivel.” Their rejections forced me to become a better writer because I practiced my craft, studied books in and out of my genre, read about both the writing craft and the publishing industry. Last year I ran an agent appreciation post, but it’s time again.

I’d like to thank the agents who requested a full manuscript and encouraged me to keep writing. As I mentioned here, I’ve had some close calls. Now writing my fourth manuscript, with continued perseverance and a little luck, I might soon get THE call.

I’m still amazed at the generosity of other writers. Last month, Charlotte Lanham, author of numerous Chicken Soup for the Soul stories, helped me tweak a short story for submission. She spent much of her valuable time helping me brainstorm and revise my story. Now I find myself eager to do the same. Yes, it takes time from my own writing, but I remember all the people who offered their valuable time to me and know I must give back. And since I’m not yet faced with the task of writing an acknowledgments page, I’ll say it here:

Thank you, beta readers. Thank you, agents. Thanks for encouraging me to work harder and write better.

Who has helped you become a better writer?

Dream a little dream, then wake up and get back to work!

It's funny how often lessons come from the ones we're trying to shape – our own kids. Even lessons about being a writer.

I received this text from my 15-year-old while she was window shopping at the mall. (In other words, she was broke.)

I have on this gorgeous yellow prom dress, and it's twenty dollars ...

Translation: Mom, I gotta have this dress for prom next year. It fits perfectly, and it's cheap! Think how much money and time we'd save by not having to shop for one next spring when I'll need it for sure!

Unfortunately, my response had to be: Too bad prom isn't for a year, and you don't know what life will look like then. :)

My daughter has a sweet boyfriend. He's respectful and brings her home on time. Recently, he ate dinner with us and rinsed and loaded his own plate into the dishwasher. I wouldn't mind keeping him around for a while -- there sure is less to worry about when your daughter has this kind of boyfriend.

Except.

He's a senior this year, she's a sophomore, and there's no telling what can happen in the course of a year when you're an adult, much less a young adult exploring life, love, and who you will become.

My daughter is dreaming of a prom that might never happen, picturing herself in that beautiful yellow dress that could end up gathering dust in the back of her closet. She might do better to contemplate life in the here and now, focusing on the aspects she can actually control and enjoy in the moment.

And this is just a twenty-dollar prom dress. Think of all the money spent on wedding gowns that were never worn. You've read the ads on Craigslist. Wedding gown, never worn. Prom dress, never worn. They're all slightly sad, though we can hope some of these ladies simply found a better dress.

I'm not saying you shouldn't ever plan ahead, and I'm definitely not saying it's silly to try on dresses for the heck of it.

But here's my point. (Yep, this really is about writing.)

Often, in our excitement about becoming novelists, we delve into similar territory. Even while crafting our first stories, we begin researching agents and the market. Research is certainly not a bad thing in itself. An educated writer makes a better client and more marketable author.

But when we lose sight of the real goal – writing the best book we can in the here and now – we can get in trouble.

We begin to pin our hopes on that one agent who meets our dream qualifications. We tailor our story to what that agent's looking for (though it's proven the market can change on a whim, not to mention it's impossible to predict whether what's hot today will be kicked to the curb tomorrow). Perhaps we attempt to become our dream agent's dream client by studying their current authors, reading everything we can find by their clients, and commenting on their blogs.

In other words, we pay a lot of attention to getting an agent when the book's not even finished, and Ms. Dream Agent is just one among many who might be the best representative for our project when the time arrives.

Maybe we're even doing a pretty good job of writing a great book, but we don't begin to think about the next project as we wrap up the earlier one. After all, our first novel's the one agents and editors will flock to publish and promote, the one that'll send us on a twenty-city book tour, right? Can't we worry about that next story later? When we're resting on our laurels and wallowing in all the cash we made off that instant bestseller?

The dress of our dreams could be symbolic for several legs of this exciting, but often puzzling journey. And really, it's just another metaphor we could equate with those age-old proverbs:

Don't put all your eggs in one basket.
Don't count your chickens before they hatch.
A watched pot never boils.

Okay, that last one's a stretch. I asked my youngest daughter if she could think of another example, and she said, "Don't spend your allowance before you earn it?" (Thanks, sweetie, I like that one.)

All I'm trying to say is take your time. If you're new to this journey, put the bulk of your energy into writing the best book you can. Believe me, there will be plenty of time to research and find the agent of your dreams when the time comes.

And don't feel silly if I've described you. After all, how could I write this without learning from experience? I see a finger pointing back at me as I gaze into the mirror, dreaming about my agent crush in my fancy yellow dress.

Photo credit: Gabriela Camerotti/Creative Commons license on Flickr

Magic Voice

from Joan

You have the perfect idea for a novel and complete your first draft. You revise and tweak it, conjuring the perfect concoction. You’ve instilled your magic voice.

Before you submit, you test it on your critique partners and anxiously await the results. Then your agent and editor scurry into the lab and Voilà! Out comes an even more alien brew. With enough riffing, the creation you deemed nearly perfect is saturated with remarks that read like Mystery Science Theater 3000 commentary: “You forgot the eye of newt,” or “No, your monster wouldn’t spare the girl. He’d chomp off her arms,” or “Turn back!”

Why didn’t I think of that? you reflect, and accept the change. Brilliant! you think, and incorporate another. I was going to write it that way, you justify.

Most likely, none of your advisors are mad scientists, just benevolent associates who want to see your book on the shelves. But, writer, beware! Pretty soon the concoction is theirs, not yours. Pretty soon you’ll need line-by-line credits in your acknowledgments.

If you’re lucky, your beta readers will suggest revisions without making it their own. My writing is better because of my brilliant critique partners. Even if I don’t agree with all they suggest, I learn from their input and I hope they concur. But sometimes I make a suggested change because it sounds better, only to discover later that the line or word sticks out. It’s not my voice.

My advice: Don’t write by committee; retain your story. Know when to turn back, take the intent of well-meaning suggestions, and mold them into your magic voice.

Save the riffing to the guys who brought you Mystery Science Theater 3000. (For hilarious new commentary from Michael J. Nelson of MST3K go to Rifftrax.com)

It's for you

By Pamela

The other day my five-year-old answered the phone and handed it to me. “It’s an agent,” she said.

A year ago, that might have sent me into cardiac arrest. (For the remotely curious, it was Adrian, my son’s soccer coach—clearly not an agent.)

But today I have a healthy dose of reality blended quite heavily with a smattering of perspective.

Soon after I wrote my first manuscript, I began querying literary agents. Most of you will interpret that the error here lies in the word “soon.” Sending a manuscript out to agents should come much “later.” After you’ve revised and had beta readers weigh in, read it to a critique group, revised some more. And then let it simmer for a few months, only to revise again.

The rejections came in, but I always kept one ear trained on the phone because I knew an agent would love it as much as I did. They didn’t. That manuscript is now tucked away and I have moved on to other projects.

With another round of queries out there on a fine-tuned project, I do still anticipate The Call from an agent. But even when that happens, I know it’s only the first piece in a complex puzzle. Once an agent loves my manuscript (and we agree to work together), then she or he has to sell it to an editor who in turn must sell it to his or her publishing house.

Then, assuming the editor doesn’t quit, get fired or die before the book goes to press, the book has to be sold to book sellers. Factor in marketing and promotions and you get a feel for how The Call fits into the puzzle. It’s an important piece--much like the corner piece that keeps the others in line and you can’t really progress without it. But by itself, it doesn’t really complete the picture.

So, most days when the phone rings, I figure it’s a client calling me back, my writing partner or a neighbor looking for her child. But one day, when it’s an agent-not-Adrian, I’m sure my heartbeat will quicken and I might squelch a squeal. I just don’t expect to have to summon a paramedic.