Dear Agent:
With as many rejections as I've gotten now (and it could be so many more...I realize this), I wanted to tell you a few things, in case you didn't know these tidbits already. I know you know that rejections are always going to hurt, even if you word them kindly. So even if you say something akin to, Your writing is unique and you have a fresh perspective on a classic story... (no one has said that to me, but the sentence sounds so amicable, doesn't it?), the rejection still feels like tiny knives pricking the skin -- every time the writer goes back and reads the offending email. I'm just reminding you of that fact: Rejection hurts.
So what doesn't hurt as much? How could you make our lives, as writers, just a little bit easier? Shoot, we're not asking for much. One idea, and wow, I have to say, I'm going out on a limb here because if I want my kids to change something about their behavior I'd never even think about this (wink, wink, nudge nudge). What about giving us a morsel of feedback? Good and useful feedback. That would be a gift from the Gods, if you ask me.
But I understand that you probably don't have the time to do that -- giving actual thought and feedback to each and every author that queries you. I get that. I have four kids, a part-time job, and I'm trying to publish a novel. Really, I get it. But I have another solution for you, and you better step back for this one, because it's a doozy.
Be proactive about the whole submission process. It would be so easy (so easy!) for you to simply be specific with what you're looking for. For example, on your website, don't say I'm interested in woman's fiction. Because when I get the rejection letter that says my piece doesn't fit in with your list of what you're looking for, I'm going to roll my eyes, pound my fist against the table, and curse you six ways to Sunday.
Because hell, I sent you women's fiction. If all you're looking for is women's fiction, why doesn't my piece fit the list? (It's a good question, I know, and one that you will have to think about time and time again when you say that a project isn't what you're looking for. So there.) Had you taken a moment to jot a specific wish list on a crumpled drink napkin, waved it at your intern or even the IT guy who's playing Diablo in the corner of his office, you'd have wasted so much less time of mine. And yours. Because if I had known that you were looking for an LGBTQ novel that involved time travel between Victorian and Roman times, I would not have sent a novel in which a woman living in the 21st century grapples with thoughts of infidelity. I just wouldn't have done that. (And that didn't really happen, but it could have, you know.)
So Agent, please, please consider this plea. You want me to do so many things right before I submit my writing to you. I need to read your guidelines, format my piece correctly, submit to the correct agent, and wait (sometimes for an undetermined length of time). I need to make certain you are even open to queries and that I'm using the correct method for submission (email versus snail mail). And you? All you need to do is open the email and decide Yes or No.
If you want to have a better day, with the hopes of saying Yes more often than No (as many of you dear Agents purport to loathe doing) then be kind, rewind, and rewrite your list. I promise not to send something that's not appropriate. I'm a glutton for punishment, but even I have a limit to the number of rejections I'm willing to use for toilet paper. Either you do that, or I'll need to have more children. They tend to use more toilet paper than anyone I know.
Sincerely,
CMC
With as many rejections as I've gotten now (and it could be so many more...I realize this), I wanted to tell you a few things, in case you didn't know these tidbits already. I know you know that rejections are always going to hurt, even if you word them kindly. So even if you say something akin to, Your writing is unique and you have a fresh perspective on a classic story... (no one has said that to me, but the sentence sounds so amicable, doesn't it?), the rejection still feels like tiny knives pricking the skin -- every time the writer goes back and reads the offending email. I'm just reminding you of that fact: Rejection hurts.
So what doesn't hurt as much? How could you make our lives, as writers, just a little bit easier? Shoot, we're not asking for much. One idea, and wow, I have to say, I'm going out on a limb here because if I want my kids to change something about their behavior I'd never even think about this (wink, wink, nudge nudge). What about giving us a morsel of feedback? Good and useful feedback. That would be a gift from the Gods, if you ask me.
But I understand that you probably don't have the time to do that -- giving actual thought and feedback to each and every author that queries you. I get that. I have four kids, a part-time job, and I'm trying to publish a novel. Really, I get it. But I have another solution for you, and you better step back for this one, because it's a doozy.
Be proactive about the whole submission process. It would be so easy (so easy!) for you to simply be specific with what you're looking for. For example, on your website, don't say I'm interested in woman's fiction. Because when I get the rejection letter that says my piece doesn't fit in with your list of what you're looking for, I'm going to roll my eyes, pound my fist against the table, and curse you six ways to Sunday.
Because hell, I sent you women's fiction. If all you're looking for is women's fiction, why doesn't my piece fit the list? (It's a good question, I know, and one that you will have to think about time and time again when you say that a project isn't what you're looking for. So there.) Had you taken a moment to jot a specific wish list on a crumpled drink napkin, waved it at your intern or even the IT guy who's playing Diablo in the corner of his office, you'd have wasted so much less time of mine. And yours. Because if I had known that you were looking for an LGBTQ novel that involved time travel between Victorian and Roman times, I would not have sent a novel in which a woman living in the 21st century grapples with thoughts of infidelity. I just wouldn't have done that. (And that didn't really happen, but it could have, you know.)
So Agent, please, please consider this plea. You want me to do so many things right before I submit my writing to you. I need to read your guidelines, format my piece correctly, submit to the correct agent, and wait (sometimes for an undetermined length of time). I need to make certain you are even open to queries and that I'm using the correct method for submission (email versus snail mail). And you? All you need to do is open the email and decide Yes or No.
If you want to have a better day, with the hopes of saying Yes more often than No (as many of you dear Agents purport to loathe doing) then be kind, rewind, and rewrite your list. I promise not to send something that's not appropriate. I'm a glutton for punishment, but even I have a limit to the number of rejections I'm willing to use for toilet paper. Either you do that, or I'll need to have more children. They tend to use more toilet paper than anyone I know.
Sincerely,
CMC
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