Kerry Allen

There’s this lovely site called Query Tracker. There’s tons of agent information. You can even look up an author to see if there’s an agent of record. (Double and triple check all information, of course—by no means depend on any one source for your agent search. It’s going to have a big impact on your career, so do your homework like it counts. QT makes that research a little easier by linking to agents’ web sites, Agent Query, Publishers Marketplace, and Preditors and Editors, for starters.) It’s free to sign up. You can keep a list of agents you like, keep track of your submission status, and monitor the agents’ stats (particularly handy for those agents with 1,000 queries and 2 responses reported, so you know not to hold your breath waiting for them to get back to you).

There are also user comments entered on the agents’ pages. The good: Provides an idea of turnaround times and level of feedback given. The bad: Holy monkeybeans, so many prime examples of how not to respond to rejection.

I can relate to the disappointment and frustration. I may even have experienced some hostility a time or two under extenuating circumstances. However, it seems counterproductive for anyone looking for an agent to pitch a hissy fit about any agent in a public forum where agents are known to pop in to verify their info, particularly if your username bears some resemblance to your actual name and/or you’re including identifying details about your deathless prose.

I’m going to reveal the big secret behind rejections—right here in this very post!—in hopes of preventing even one future spaz attack.

Rejection says: “I might not be the right agent for your work.”
Recipient’s interpretation: “I stalked you at conferences and all over the web until I was certain you’re the right agent. WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?!?!”
Secret meaning: “Not interested.”

Rejection says: “I am looking to take on new clients, but only with material about which I feel very strongly.”
Recipient’s interpretation: “Unfortunately for you, feeling very strongly that your writing is crap doesn’t count.”
Secret meaning: “Not interested.”

Rejection says: “Not right for me.”
Recipient’s interpretation: “Not right for me, as I prefer to represent clients who write way better than you do, loser. And you’re ugly.”
Secret meaning: “Not interested.”

Rejection says: “I can’t offer any editorial feedback.”
Recipient’s interpretation: “Your writing is so godawful, it would take me a month to point out everything wrong with it, so I’m not even going to try.”
Secret meaning: “Not interested.”

Are you sensing a theme here? No need to analyze a rejection for its secret meaning. It means NOT INTERESTED. Whether it’s polite or curt, rubberstamped or personalized, hundredth generation photocopy printed on toilet paper or handwritten in calligraphy on vellum, it means NOT INTERESTED. It’s a subjective decision not to become involved in a long-term relationship with words on a page, not a rejection of your worth as a human being.

Have you ever been NOT INTERESTED in something—a person, a TV show, elections in a non-Presidential year? Were you obligated to explain, courteously and in detail, your reasons for being NOT INTERESTED, suggest improvements, and invite further attempts to win you over? Did you spare even one thought for the wounded feelings of that person, TV show, or election? Would you have become INTERESTED if that person, TV show, or election demanded more from you, acting all entitled and becoming insulting toward you when you failed to meet his, her, or its expectations?

Mark that submission “closed.” Cross it off your list. Burn it on the grill if you must, but for the love of monkeybeans, quit agonizing over it to the point where it seems like a smart idea to go online and hurl insulting adjectives at the agent who sent it.

Say a year passes, and you’re shopping around your next project. An agent may not remember your name from the last time you queried, but he’s a bit more likely to remember it if you assassinated his character on his listing.

Aren’t there enough reasons for being rejected without adding “because you’re a douchebag” to the list?

(Yes, I persist with the futile argument of reason.) 

Author A and Author B have completed manuscripts of equal brilliance and originality. They send them off to Fabulous Editor. The manuscripts sit side by side in Fabulous Editor’s inbox. Fabulous Editor grabs Author A’s manuscript first and falls ass over teakettle in love with it.

Does Fabulous Editor subsequently dump everything else in the inbox into the trash because she has found The Next Big Thing and never needs to look at another manuscript again?

No. Fabulous Editor continues mining for gold in the slush because Fabulous Editor intends to have a career beyond next year.

I have it on good authority Fabulous Editor would be running round the office screaming “This is the best fucking day of my life!” if the next manuscript she read also made her fall ass over teakettle in love with it.

Therefore, Author A’s manuscript is in no way impeding the publication of Author B’s manuscript.

Author A’s book and Author B’s book hit the shelves at the same time and, by happy coincidence, are placed side by side.

Discerning Reader finds both covers equally compelling and takes a look at both books. The back-cover copy is equally interesting. A quick skim of the contents suggests the books are equally brilliant and original, and Discerning Reader wants both. Equally.

So Discerning Reader buys both.

Yeah, but what if Discerning Reader has only enough money in her pocket for one book? Huh? What then, smarty pants?

Discerning Reader eeny-meeny-miney-moes her choice and comes back on payday to get the other one because she can’t get it out of her mind.

Therefore, Author A’s book is in no way impeding the sale of Author B’s book.

I don’t dispute the existence of competition, but it is not between writers. The competition is between reader interest and reader disinterest as it pertains to an individual story, whether that reader is an editor, an agent, a contest judge, or a book buyer. All of the above are looking for an engaging read—or two or twenty or eighty-six. No reader has ever bemoaned the agony of having too many exciting stories to choose from.

Once a writer sends a story out into the world, it stands or falls on its own. Nobody props it up. Nobody trips it. If it’s not universally embraced as a work of genius, that is not the fault of any writer other than the one who produced it, and spending even one minute of one day spewing about how someone else has ruined your chances of success is a waste of time you could have spent writing something new, something better, something that will juxtapose asses and teakettles everywhere.

(End rant. Please deposit nonsensical outbursts in the appropriate receptacle.)

TO: Veorge Gostanza, President, Candelay Publishing
FROM: Ivanna Stifle
SUBJECT: Fewer Books, Better Quality!

Dear Mr. Gostanza,

You obviously publish every book submitted to your company, resulting in a market glutted with books I don’t like, which makes them garbage. Readers (I speak for all of them) would appreciate it if you would be more discriminating and publish only the books they want to read.

Best regards,
Ivanna Stifle

The crack pipe slipped from Veorge’s fingers, shattering on the keyboard. He was too entranced by the ant-like letters rearranging themselves on the computer monitor to notice the mess. “That is the most brilliant idea my drug-addled mind has ever struggled to process. Don’t publish what readers don’t want to read! Thank god for consumer email!”

TO: Ivanna Stifle
FROM: Veorge Gostanza, President, Candelay Publishing
SUBJECT: Re: Fewer Books, Better Quality!

Dear Ms. Stifle,

Thank you for your thoughtful email. After careful considera

Veorge paused to wipe the blood from his fingertips, puzzled by the shards of glass sprinkled over his keyboard. His devotion to the customer was such that he forged ahead in spite of his personal peril.

tion, I agree that Candelay’s catalog needs to be cut drastically. Our mission at Candelay has always been to satisfy our readers, and policies will be implemented immediately to ensure we do so more effectively.

Very truly yours,
Veorge Gostanza, President
Candelay Publishing

Veorge, mind electrified with a combination of Mountain Dew and methamphetamines, spent the remainder of the night studying the sales numbers from the preceeding twelve months. Angsty vampire novels with guys wearing nothing but leather pants and baby oil on their eight-packs on the covers and heroines who used the word “fuck” sold an average of 80,000 copies each, while epic Victorian novels sans supernatural / suspense / graphic sex / foul language and rich with costume / setting / social mores of the period sold a scant 15,000 each.

“The numbers don’t lie,” he told his acquisition editors in the conference room the following morning. “Don’t waste my dime on any more historical crap. Get me more emo bloodsuckers!”

ONE MONTH LATER

TO: Missy Mizz, Acquisition Editor, Candelay Publishing
FROM: Ivanna Stifle
SUBJECT: Query: Departed with the Zephyr

Dear Ms. Mizz,

Now that Candelay has renewed its commitment to publishing only the highest-quality fiction, I know you will be interested in my epic Victorian romance about a blacksmith and the scullery maid who loves him but dies of syphilis in an uplifting ending that will make your heart burn for years to come.

Best regards,
Ivanna Stifle

TO: Ivanna Stifle
FROM: Missy Mizz, Acquisition Editor, Candelay Publishing
SUBJECT: Re: Query: Departed with the Zephyr

Dear Ms. Stifle: 

Please take a moment to review Candelay’s updated submission guidelines as detailed on our web site. In response to consumer complaint, Candelay is henceforth publishing only books that are in keeping with those that have proven to be our strongest sellers.

Unless your syphilitic heroine rises from the grave, your story does not meet our needs at this time.

Best regards,
Missy Mizz, Acquisitions Editor
Candelay Publishing

“But… but… that’s not what I wanted at all!” Ivanna wailed. “It’s supposed to be those stupid other people with no taste who get screwed out of what they want, not meeeeee!”

I had a work-related teleconference this morning, at which I had to introduce myself, following which another attendee said, “Oh, you’re the one who started the biggest flame war of all time on the company chat board.”

Huh? I’ve been on the company chat board about five times in the last four years, and I open only innocuous threads such as “daily funnies” and “Thanksgiving plans” because I don’t want to be exposed to any drama. How could I possibly cause any drama?

As it turns out, Thanksgiving 2006 is what did me in. Someone asked what everyone’s plans were. I said I was having friends over and cooking everything except stuffing. Everybody was bringing their own stuffing because everybody had a different idea what constituted stuffing—bread and savory vegetables, or rice and cranberries, or barley and apples and walnuts… People couldn’t even agree whether to call it stuffing or dressing. My solution kept the peace, not to mention making less work for me. I wished everybody a great holiday and bailed.*

This provoked 400+ comments of escalating hostility that continued well past the Christmas stuffing/dressing season.

“It’s stuffing.”

“No, it’s dressing.”

“I looked it up in the dictionary. It’s stuffing.”

“Well, I looked it up in my dictionary, and it’s dressing, bitch.”

“Well, if your dictionary is as retarded as you are…”

And so on and so forth.

The inflammatory nature of one person’s comments was such that she allegedly was fired as a result.

In 2006, this would have shocked me. Now, not so much. In the last year, I’ve seen people stroke out over some of the most nonsensical things. Defending your family’s stuffing/dressing tradition to the death actually makes more sense than some of the other dustups I’ve seen.

This week’s “damn, people need to calm the fuck down” moment is brought to you by the letter M, as in “muse.” Use that word to anthropomorphize your creative process, pop some corn, grab a comfy seat, and wait for the grenades to start flying.

“There’s no muse! You can’t be a professional writer and flit around waiting for inspiration to strike! You sit your ass in the chair and write whether you feel like it or not!”

You’d think writers would be less literal, but no. As there seems to be some confusion, let me clarify that nobody talking about “the muse” really thinks there’s some chick in a toga whispering ideas in their ears. Or, if the upset stems from a sense of ”hey, no fair, I have to think up my own ideas,” nobody actually has some chick in a toga whispering ideas in their ears. 

For probably the first time, I’m removing a book from my to-buy list because of online exposure to an author, not because I found her anti-muse outburst personally offensive, but because with it, she impressed me as utterly lacking imagination and fancy, which doesn’t fill me with confidence about her forthcoming book.

* For the record, I am so noncommittal on the issue, I use “stuffing” and “dressing” interchangeably, and I support your right to put anything in it you want.

Just don’t expect me to eat it.

HOTM will be delayed due to mandatory overtime at the day job consuming my soul.

I have time for a short rant, though.

It’s renewal time, and I had decided to give RWA another year of my money and this time get involved in at least one chapter (semi-recovered from my outrage at discovering the national membership doesn’t do a lot other than provide the opportunity to join chapters, which is where all the benefit appears to lie…), but then I read the most recent issue of RWR. It wasn’t just the letter to the editor declaring modern romance heroines “sluts,” but also the article by the language police (sorry, but I prefer a more conversational tone in my reading material, even in the narrative, and if Strunk & White have to become double-jointed to bend around that style, I have some yoga exercises to limber them up) and… there was something else I can’t or don’t want to think of right now.

At any rate, there was nothing in this issue I wanted to save or even take a second look at. (OMFG! I ended a sentence with a preposition on purpose! Change it to “at which I wanted to take a second look.” On second thought, that’s clunky and pedantic, so don’t.) And (now I’m just being rebellious) I was again left wondering if it’s worth my while to remain a member of an organization where I obviously don’t fit in. (Oopsie.)

And Furthermore, I’m not judging the entire organization based upon its monthly publication, although one would assume an organization’s monthly publication would be representative of its membership. The in-the-flesh RWA encounters in which I have participated have similarly thrust me into a crowd that seems rigidly (after much consideration of an appropriate term) traditional. There’s nothing wrong with tradition itself, but expecting others to conform to your traditions is the stuff wars are made of. (Dammit, and I was trying so hard.)

Have I just not found “my people”? Would an expedition into chapter territory lead me to a tribe of sexually-liberated-heroine-writing misfits dancing naked in the moonlight around a cauldron in which The Elements of Style are being boiled to mash?

Maybe I’ll renew, ask them not to send me the magazine that makes me angry on a monthly basis (I realize I don’t have to read it, but there’s no point wasting the paper and postage to send it to me in that case, is there?), and try my luck with an online chapter. Then, if I feel this same frustration next year, I’ll know for sure it’s impossible for me to get anything from the membership and call it quits.

(For the record, my copy of Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style is my first go-to book when a grammar or punctuation issue arises, the Chicago Manual of Style when more in-depth clarification is necessary. I appreciate these valuable reference materials, but I will never adhere to them like it’s a matter of life and death. One of the beauties of language is its flexibility.)

di·plo·ma·cy: skill in handling affairs without arousing hostility *

tact: a keen sense of what to do or say in order to maintain good relations with others or avoid offense; implies delicate and considerate perception of what is appropriate *

cour·te·ous: marked by respect for and consideration of others *

rude: offensive in manner or action; implies ignorance of or indifference to good form; may suggest intentional discourtesy *

If I put my name on a statement, which I always do, rather than hiding behind a nickname or anonymity, it is in my best interest to be diplomatic. The questions I ask myself before committing to a negative comment, in the blogosphere as well as in real life, include:

“Do I feel strongly enough about this subject to potentially offend an audience with my opinion?”

“Is there another way to express my opinion that will come across as less offensive?”

“Is there anything to be gained by expressing an opinion that will potentially alienate an audience? Will I bring anyone around to my way of thinking? Will I receive an obscene amount of money? Will this statement have far-reaching sociopolitical ramifications that will bring about world peace?”

And perhaps most important of all:

“Will alienating this audience have negative consequences for me in the future?”

I recognize the power of words and their lingering effect upon those who hear and read them. I prefer to distribute them with purpose rather than squander them on less-than-worthwhile causes. I compose a great many emails, blog posts, and blog comments in the heat of the moment, which I subsequently delete without sharing because I recognize they are inappropriate.

I would no more visit a blog and insult the blog owner and other guests than I would enter someone’s home and say, “Ew, what is that stink?” It’s a matter of common courtesy, which, sadly, is becoming less common, particularly online.

Some will choose to portray diplomacy, tact, and courtesy as weakness in order to excuse their own lack of civility, whereas the better informed recognize these as traits possessed by those with successful interpersonal relations. It’s much easier to navigate the personal and professional seas when others don’t perceive you as antagonistic and inconsiderate. Presented with two individuals of comparable merit, one of whom has a pleasant demeanor while the other has a perpetually sour disposition, most people will choose to deal with the former.

I have enough to gain, and enough to lose, that I make a conscious effort to be the former.

That does not imply, however, that I cheerfully accept abuse. If you take up my bandwidth to be rude and obnoxious, I feel no further obligation to extend hospitality to you and will block you from commenting further on my blog.

Do feel free to devote as much of your own blog as you wish to your ill opinion of me. Use my name and link to me with abandon, as both contribute to my search engine visibility.

Which leads me to one final question I use to filter my actions:

Am I in any way, directly or indirectly, providing free promotional services for something I hold in low regard?

Now, I’m going to strive to make it to July without feeling compelled again to respond to anyone whose behavioral development ceased in preschool.

* Definitions courtesy of Merriam-Webster Online.

Meg Cabot also would rather talk about things she likes than complain about things she doesn’t.

She also feels the need to include a disclaimer that she wasn’t paid to say something positive, for the benefit of those who don’t believe anyone could possibly have anything good to say about anything without being bribed to do so.

I almost feel sorry for people who hate life that much. Not quite, though, since they take such pains to drag everybody else down into the Pit of Pisandmone with them.

Even if you don’t read Meg Cabot’s books, I recommend reading her blog. She makes me laugh every time on a regular basis.

(Can’t say “every time” because her 9/11 story made me cry.)