Book Review: A Hilarious Guide to Querying Literary Agents

 Fake Query Letters by Dead Authors: A Satirical Craft Guide to Writing Queries That Survive the Slush Pile, by David Brown and Michelle Barker (Darling Axe Publishing)

How-to books for authors abound in today’s market. Not all the advice is worth taking. Indeed, much of it seems to be based on outdated practices, flawed “conventional wisdom,” or is intended for novice self-published authors. Very little is aimed at serious authors interested in traditional publishing or established midlist authors scrambling to keep up with today’s rapidly changing market. Much of it is contradictory and involves a great deal of telling the author how to get an agent instead of showing pitfalls and best practices.

The latest entry in this field is the delightful, highly informative book, Fake Query Letters by Dead Authors: A Satirical Craft Guide to Writing Queries That Survive the Slush Pile, by David Brown and Michelle Barker of Darling Axe. They open with this intriguing premise:

 What if the greatest novels ever written had to survive today's slush pile? No reputation to fall back on—just a cover letter and first page... and an agent who's already read 200 queries before lunch.

Spoiler: most of them wouldn't make it. 

Using five classic novels (Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Letter, Anne of Green Gables, and Jane Eyre) they first demonstrate the worst possible way the authors could query an agent and how to fix their disastrous mistakes.

 Query guidelines for literary agents vary, but most include a letter, synopsis, and sample pages, which are often the first chapter). We already know (and, hopefully, love) the text, which gives us a foundation to evaluate each horrible, rejection-guaranteed sample letter and synopsis. The authors invite us to imagine ourselves as literary agents at the end of a punishing work week, facing an Inbox jammed with queries. (So much fun!) What would tempt us to read the entire query and then—oh joy!—request the entire manuscript?

Highly recommended for fiction writers at all stages of their careers for whom a literary agent is appropriate. Also highly recommended for indie (self-published) writers for invaluable insights into how to craft a compelling novel and then present it at its best. After all, in today’s overcrowded market, readers will decide to pick up a book on the same basis of a dynamite pitch.

Auntie Deborah Advises on the Business of Writing

Auntie Deborah is back at her advice desk…

If two authors want to collaborate on writing a novel, how much should each author contribute?

Auntie Deborah: It all depends. There are so many different ways to do this. I’ve seen authors alternate chapters, divide scenes according to their strengths (ex: character/dialog vs action/technology), one writes the draft and the other revises it. I co-wrote a (published) short story in which my partner described a scene while I typed it out, asking questions and filling in details.

For the last 20 years, I’ve written posthumous collaborations with the author who was my mentor. During the last year of her life, we talked about the basic plot arc for the first 3 books, but then she died and I wrote those books (and 6 more and counting…) My natural literary “voice” is very close to hers so the transition was easy. Her Literary Trust approves the manuscript for consistency of style and content before it goes to her agent (who also happens to be my agent), so in a sense they act as a current collaborator. I work under subcontract to them and we have a formal, written, legal agreement.

The one unbreakable rule is that you set down in writing how you will resolve differences, divide payment, and what you will do if it all falls apart. Absolutely do not skip this step!

Is it wise to try and find a literary agent before I've finished writing my novel?

Auntie Deborah: I would advise not. First and foremost, the agent has to have something to sell. Otherwise there’s no point in representing an author without a marketable project. Second, you will be new to the agent and she will have no idea whether you can take those unfinished pages and turn them into something great. On the other hand, suppose they liked the sample chapters but you don’t have the rest ready to submit; you’ll end up either losing that interest in delay or sending something not ready. Either way you’ll have lost a potential agent.

If you’ve made personal contact with an agent, say at a convention, pitched your project, and aroused their interest, follow that with a polite note. Do not send anything less than your polished best! You don’t want to get put into the “talks great but doesn’t deliver” category. Then when you do submit, use the cover letter or query — depending on what the agent has asked for — to remind them of past interest.

Be patient. Do your work to the utmost of your ability.

Auntie Deborah’s Advice Column for Aspiring Writers

Dear Auntie Deborah: How can I find a real publisher for my YA novel, instead of one of the many vanity or scam presses?

-- Tearful Wannabee

Dear Tearful: Do your research about publishers. Find out which accept unagented submissions. Check them out on Writer Beware or Predators & Editors!!

Get an agent. Again, do your research on which agents are legitimate and represent your genre. (See above resources.) A decent agent will do the submissions for you, using their professional contacts, plus access to publishers that require an agent (which, today, is most of them).

Hang out online with other YA authors and pick their brains, see who publishes them, so you can hear about newer publishers and agents who might be open to your type of material.

Get support. Hobnob with other writers, particularly those at or a little beyond your career stage. Writing is such a lonely business at best, and we need to glomp together — even seasoned pros with decades of sales — for mutual encouragement. And gossip.

Good luck!

Dear Auntie Deborah: I don’t think my book will ever be published. Was it all a waste of time?

-- Loves2Write

Dear Loves2Write: Another way to look at it is this: if you knew for certain that no one would ever read your stories, would you still write them? Do you ever write something just for yourself? If you could stop writing, would you do something else?

Most of the professional writers I know faced these questions and concluded that, all told, their lives are richer and more satisfying when they put down in words the stories unfolding in their minds. Many will write something for their own amusement (without any goal of publication) alongside their projects under contract.

Of course, you can always pretend that after you’re gone, someone will discover a trove of brilliant, compelling manuscripts that will remain in print for decades.

Dear Auntie Deborah: I keep wanting to revise as I write my first draft. I’ve been told this a terrible thing to do. I keep second-guessing myself when I do, and I’m afraid I’ll end up creatively paralyzed. Help!

-- Second Thoughts

Dear Second, I think you’re halfway there in understanding why many find it important to plough through that draft so you can look at the whole thing when it’s time to revise. It’s tempting but (for many of us) deadly to halt forward progress and nitpick. Here are a few strategies that have worked for me:

·         Beginning each session with reading the last page or so but not making any changes to it.

·         Reminding myself that the only draft that counts is the one on my editor’s desk. And that what looks like an error may point me in the direction of a deeper, richer story, so I need to preserve all that drek the first time through.

·         Reminding myself about author B, whose work I greatly admire, who told me that no one, not even her most trusted reader, sees anything before her third draft.

·         Giving myself permission to be really, really awful.

·         Falling in love with the revision process. I can hardly wait to get that first draft down so I have something to play with.

·         Writing when I’m tired. Believe it or not, this helps because it’s all I can do then to keep putting down one word after another.

All that said, sometimes editing is the right thing, like when it feels as if I’m pushing the story in a direction it doesn’t want to go, or I’ve written myself into a hole I can’t dig out of. Usually that means I’ve made a misstep earlier, not thought carefully about where I want to go. Or whatever I thought the story was about, I was wrong, and the true story keeps wanting to emerge. How do I tell when this is the case? Mostly experience, plus willingness to rip it all to shreds and start over.

Dear Auntie Deborah: How can I prevent myself from making all my characters versions of myself?

-- Mirror Image

Dear Mirror: Do your work in creative well-rounded, idiosyncratic characters. Give them warts, particularly those you really, really don’t want to have, yourself.

1. Don’t worry about it. You will always put something of yourself into your characters, even if it’s your imagination.

Dear Auntie Deborah: I’ve been told to introduce the conflict in my novel on the first page. Should I?

-- Slowly Developing

Dear Slowly: Like so much in fiction, it all depends. Some stories call for context before external conflict. For sure, your opening has to do two things: tell the reader what kind of story this is (cozy mystery, obscure literary, dark fantasy, etc.); and arouse the reader’s curiosity (the “hook”). That doesn’t have to be the central conflict, but it does have to create momentum.

Dear Auntie Deborah: What do you do with deleted scenes and unused ideas?

-- Holdsonto Everything

Dear Holdsonto: I stick them in an idea file. Sometimes they build stories-that-fit around themselves, like a grain of sand creating a pearl in an oyster. Other times, I chalk the time and energy as another %^&* learning experience. Sometimes it seems that just the fact I wrote it, that I put those words together, is enough.

After 30+ years as a pro writer, I truly believe that nothing creative is ever wasted.

Dear Auntie Deborah: I’m pretty good at writing dialog, but my narrative skills are terrible. What should I do?

-- Script Writer

Dear Script: I’d bet you are not so much terrible at narration as unpracticed. Dialog comes more easily to some of us because (a) it’s what we speak in; (b) we compose scenes as scripts, as characters talking.

When I was a young writer, I overused dialog, often to the utter bafflement of my readers. One critiquer suggested I eliminate dialog and tell the entire story in narrative. The first scene was agony. The next one was worse, but then it gradually got easier. The exercise forced me to see what dialog was good for and when it was a lazy way out. I also learned — by necessity of practice — how to write serviceable narrative.

That’s my third point. You may be setting the bar too high on a skill you’re still clumsy at. Forget gorgeous language and brilliance. Aim for simple, translucent prose. Keep your sentences uncomplicated, your verbs direct and unfussy, and your modifiers and qualifiers to a minimum. If you don’t know what those are, take a step back and learn about the basic tools of language.

And take every opportunity to read the finest prose you can lay your hands on.