Considering my obsession with numerology and the fact that I
haven't posted in a while, is it any wonder that not only am I resurfacing
today on my own blog, but that today I've sent out my first round of queries to
some possible literary agency contacts?
I might as well share some thoughts on this special day, and
by special I mean the culmination of lots of energy toward actually taking this
next step toward my dreams of traditional publication, and not so much the
12/12/12 thing. Although I have to
say that again, with reference to my love of number sequences especially when
it comes to dates, I'll always remember the day that I quit drinking as
9/9/09. So there.
But back to the agent hunt, and first I'll say that like
anything else, I plan to learn from this experience. I know that this won't come easy, and I'm quite sure that
I've made some mistakes even on this very small and selective round of agency
queries, the lessons hopefully benefitting me for now more than the prospect of
actually landing representation. Second
I'll say that I have another round that is slightly bigger than the first that
I'll begin working on and modifying according to the outcome of this current
round, and even after that, I have enough leads to fill many a day and month and
even year while I continue forward with new writing projects.
Because that's what we writers do.
Another thing that has happened over the course of learning
about the process of finding an agent is the pleasant discovery of the amount
of different kinds of books and genres that there really are out there, and I
would like to say that this is refreshing, because it seemed for a while there
that at least to me everything had something to do with solving some sort of a crime. It got to a point that I started
playing a little game with myself while on the road with my band, where during
visits to truck stops I'd snatch random paperbacks from the spinning displays
and count the number of FBIs and CIAs and former-this and former-thats of the
FBIs and CIAs on the back covers, and it was all very discouraging. I refused to believe that the novel
existed in this day and age merely as a medium to tell cops-and-robbers
stories.
I've read many books recently as a result, and that being
said, I recommend Velocity by Dean
Koontz (which, okay, was a mystery but was also a writing course for me) and The Beast House by Richard Laymon (which
is one in a series but reads well on its own as an almost "grind house"
horror novel).
As you can see, fingers are crossed during this first round
of queries, even though they may not be fingers of my own. There's no way I could do that. Just ask my chiropractor.
