Tag Archives: editing

How to Write a Query Letter that Makes Agents and Editors Swoon

Posted on October 3, 2014 | 10 comments

This is a response to my earlier post called Why Your Query Letter is Making Agents and Editors Cringe. I’m so meta, right?

Writing a query letter is an art, they say. What they really mean is that it’s really gosh-darn hard. It seems that everyone and their sister thinks they can write a query letter, but out in the real world, it fails. Miserably.

That’s what happened to me. I thought writing a query letter was easy. I composed one in a couple hours and unleashed it onto the world. Little did I know, it was crap and yielded no return. It wasn’t until I joined the Absolute Write and participated in their forum that I was able to learn how to write a query letter properly.

Now, I shall bestow my knowledge upon you.

Step One: Write a Manuscript

A given, right? Wrong. I am a big advocate that writers complete their entire manuscript before they attempt to write a query letter. Yes, I know querying seems exciting for you right now. Yes, I know you think you’ve struck gold and you absolutely NEED to tell someone. But you need to finish. And when I say finish, I mean beta-read, edited, spit-shined, and all.

Why? Well, how can you write a clear, concise, pristine query letter if your manuscript is not clear, concise, and pristine. So, get back to writing, grasshopper! Your day in query letter hell will come.

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Step Two: Learn the Anatomy of a Query Letter

A query letter is generally broken into three parts:

  1. The Hook
  2. The Story
  3. The Credentials

This is the basic structure that writers follow. Yes, there are little variations to this structure, but they generally only occur if a specific editor or agent requests said variations (and they will make such requests and other specifications on the submissions page of their website). Otherwise, it’s safest to stick to this model. Remember, you are writing a proposal for your product (ie. your novel), not taking over the world with your revolutionary literary prowess.

Step Three: The Hook

The Hook is just what it seems: it is a small paragraph, normally one to three sentences, that will draw in a reader, hold tight, and make them want to read more. Think of it like the deep, intense voice that begins movie trailers. A lot of writers will use a When-clause, but it’s not always necessary. Here is an example of a When-clause:

“When Harry Potter discovers he is a wizard, he enrols in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and uncovers a dark magic, one that threatens to take over the wizarding world.”

With that hook alone, it’s easy to identify three things: the main character, the location, and the gist of the plot. In theory, this should be enough to force the reader to read the remainder of the query letter, but don’t forget to make it sound pretty. You’re selling your amazing writing skills, after all.

Step Four: The Story

The Story is, again, just that. It is the plot of your novel, concise and juicy, giving away just enough to entice. It is important not to overwhelm your reader with too many details. That generally means that you should stick to your main character, no more than two supporting characters, and the chief antagonist. Also, it is essential to stick to the MAIN PLOT. Again, the OVERARCHING PLOT. I know you love your subplots, but those do not belong in your query letter. They will overwhelm the reader and crowd your query letter.

crowd

Reading your query letter shouldn’t feel like trying to find a small child in a crowd.

Now, I’m not one for outlines. I very rarely outline a story and when I do, it’s such a loose outline that it’s barely an outline at all. But the query letter is different. You absolutely should consider an outline. Why? Well, let’s try a little experiment. Take your current novel and try to sum it up in 150 words or less. Hard, right? Even if you were able to do it, I bet I didn’t sound beautiful and I bet you left out details that you’re dying to include.

The outline will help with that. To outline, I normally use the Three Question Method. This helps writers to focus their query and be sure not to forget the most important elements of the plot. Each query letter should strive to answer these three questions (taken from the Absolute Write forums):

  1.  What does your protagonist want?
  2.  What does s/he have to do to get it?
  3. What happens if s/he fails to get what she wants? (the stakes)

Once you’ve answered these three questions, you have the bare bones for a query letter. Essentially, you want this paragraph to read like the blurbs on the back of books. You want it to entice and you want to detail the plot, but leave it open-ended.

Step Five: The Credentials

This is the part where you talk about yourself. What other work have you gotten published? What qualifications do you have? Don’t have any of that? That’s really okay, but what inspired you to write this story and what makes YOU the person who should tell it?

Also, the second part of this paragraph should cater to the person you’re sending it to. Why did you choose said agent/editor/publisher as a candidate for your work? This will include some research. Look at other titles your agent/editor/publisher has worked with. Look at their blog, Twitter or Facebook pages. This is the part where you personalize your letter and don’t go skimpy on this part. They will know if you’re lying or if you haven’t done your research.

Lastly, do NOT forget to include the title of your manuscript, the genre and the word count. This is generally done in the first sentence of The Credentials paragraph.

Step Six: Get Feedback

This is perhaps the most important step. Have a writer friend? A beta-reader? A brutally honest friend who likes to read? Have them look it over. Does it entice them? Are they able to understand the main pillars of your plot? If you answer no to these questions, an agent or editor will to. Revise, revise, revise, and if you send it out to prospective literary personnel and get no bites, revise again.

Finally, don’t be discouraged. Querying is a long, labouring, and often fruitless process, but all writers go through it. Besides, all it takes is one yes.

——-

And it’s a simple as that. Good luck!

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Why Your Query Letter is Making Agents and Editors Cringe

Posted on September 13, 2014 | 8 comments

Before I landed a publishing deal, believe it or not, I spent a lot of time trying to land a publishing deal. Shocking, right? Well, when I say a lot of time, I mean to say that I spent almost six years tirelessly hammering out query letters and getting either form rejections or no response at all from agents, editors, or publishers.

And the worst part? I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. Were my query letters that bad that it didn’t even warrant a response? It wasn’t until I had actually acquired a publisher for my debut novel, joined a writing forum and critiqued other writers’ letters that I was able to look back and see where I had gone wrong. And trust me, my old letters were awful. Here’s why.

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Unimpressed Agent is unimpressed.

It all Starts with Story

Believe or not, a good query letter starts before it is even written. Hell, a good query letter starts before the novel itself is written. Why? Well, I’m no scientist or anything, but it seems to me that there’s a relation between shitty stories and shitty query letters.

How to avoid this? Write good stories. Easy, right? Maybe not, but I do think it takes some mindfulness on the part of the writer. Write an original story. Don’t follow the trends. Avoid cliches and cliched story-lines. Know your genre. Know your audience. Enlist a beta-reader, a peer, or someone who will give you an honest opinion and then help you burn that shit should it make readers cringe.

Most important of all: read good books. The better read you are, the more equipped you are to know what is good and what is bad — and trust me, you can find a lot of bad without looking very hard. With time, that knowledge gets applied to your own work. It’s called growth, bro.

Vagueness is NOT Your Friend

During my time at previously mentioned writing forum, I have had the pleasure of reading and critiquing quite a few query letters from other aspiring writers. One of the number one things that turns me off of a letter is when the author presents his or her story in a run-around, pseudo-Hollywood manner. Observe:

When Random Randy moves abroad, he must conquer the fears that have hindered him in his love life — and in achieving his dreams. He has been hurt before, but he won’t be again. In a story of love, loss, betrayal and family, Random Randy must learn how to trust again before he loses all sense of control.

Well, Random Randy, that’s all good and fine, but the cringing agent or editor still knows nothing about your story. There’s no substance here and definitely very little plot. Yes, I understand the need to want to tantalize your reader and not give too much of your precious story away, but being vague won’t distinguish you from other writers in the slush pile.

And for God’s sake, endless adjectives do not equate good story.

Hey, You! Focus!

Writing a story is hard. There are often many characters involved, many plots, many themes, and that only grows with your word count. But legit, when you write a query, the agent generally only cares about one of those things: your main character.

Yes, it is tempting to delve into every single plot point, well-developed character, and explored theme, but that doesn’t help you in a query letter. You need focus. You need to be deliberate and singular. In fact, to focus a query letter, I have generally stuck to what I and other writers call the Three Big Questions. They are as follows:

1. What does your protagonist want?
2. What does s/he have to do to get it?
3. What happens if s/he fails to get what she wants?

So, leave the other stuff behind. Let your literary gold be a surprise when that intrigued agent decides to read your manuscript.

This is NOT a News Report

This last point is actually a polar opposite of the two previous points I have mentioned. So, you’ve now reworded all the vague language and focused your query, but you find you have something like this:

When Ursula Unlucky loses all her money in a burglary, she and her children must move across the city to the sketchy part of town. There, she gets a job she hates and she discovers her neighbours are mean. Worse, her children are being bullied and even when she meets with their teachers, the school decides it won’t punish the bullies. Ursula then…

You are not on CNN. You don’t need to talk about every development and twist and turn in your plot. This comes across as being dry and boring and frankly, the agent or editor is cringing. The problem with this is that a query shouldn’t read like a synopsis — the synopsis should read like a synopsis. The query should give enough plot to have a focus (see above), but not enough to take away from the intrigue of your query.

Think of it like testing samples at a grocery store. You want to give the agent/editor/publisher a sample of your story and writing style so they’ll decide to come back for more.

Mmmm... Samples.

Mmmm… Samples.

______

And for shits and giggles, let’s look at one of my old query letters that I submitted once upon a time. It was for a novel that I no longer wish to publish mostly because it is a hideously cliched story (see reason #1 why agents and editors are cringing). In fact, I believe this is my very first query.

Dear Ms. Agent I Found,

As an avid reader of both fantasy and young adult novels, I was immediately drawn to the XXXX Agency and your work. I admire the optimism and support you give writers both aspiring and with your agency. That said, I would like you to consider my novel [Hideosly Cliched Fantasy Title]. It runs approximately 90,000 words and is an epic fantasy novel aimed at young adults.

Set in a world where different realms mesh in a not-so-perfect harmony, [Main Character] spends his youth gazing out an enormous window in his father’s study awaiting adventure. After an experience outside his hillside home that he is too terrified to remember, he must somehow harness a magic that he holds within.

Meanwhile, a fearsome leader named [Fearsome Name] has summoned an ancient magic that has only survived in the superstitions of crazed mystics. With it, he threatens to grip the entire world in his wretchedness. In a story of fallen kingdoms and multiple realms, [Main Character] must stop the bloodshed as the boy for whom the scripture glows.

A student at the University of Toronto studying language and professional writing, I believe that working with an experienced, caring agent such as yourself is the next step for both my novel and me. I think [My Novel] would go together well with the array of fantasy titles attributed to the agency. Also, I read in an interview that you did that you enjoy young adult fantasy and I hope that my novel can find a comfortable place in your repertoire.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Regards,

Michael Cristiano

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8 Rules for Writing Fiction and Why You Should Break Them

Posted on July 29, 2014 | 4 comments

I always find it funny that writers and editors always seem to have a billion sometimes-contradictory dos and don’ts when it comes to writing “good” fiction. But what is “good” fiction? I don’t want to start a philosophical debate, but one person’s Shakespeare is another’s Rebecca Black, you know? So instead of giving you a list of things that I think make good writing, I’ve decided to look at the rules, whether they come from professionals or amateurs, and I’ve taken the liberty of refuting some of them.

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8. No Prologues

Listen, I can’t say I’m a particular fan of prologues, but honestly, a lot of successful writers have used them and their work has been just that: successful. I would suggest that writers stop agonizing over this rule and focus on what’s important. Get back to the writing. Get back to the story and the characters that will carry you beyond that prologue. If it’s essential to the story, it will stick.

7. No Adverbs

I read somewhere that using adverbs is a mortal sin. Mortal sin? Really? Even worse than a flawed plot line or boring characters? I militantly disagree. A couple adverbs here and there aren’t going to ruin a piece. In fact, sometimes I like them. It’s like drinking wine: a few adverbs may heighten your experience, but a lot of them can be draining and induce headaches.

Are they really that bad?

Are they really that bad?

6. Never Use A Dialogue Tag Besides “Said”

I was on this boat once, and then I got an editor and she pointed out how dry this made my writing after paragraphs and paragraphs of he said, she said. I’m not saying writers should go wild, I’m just suggesting that perhaps spicing it up a bit may actually enhance your writing.

5. No Present Tense

Don’t get me wrong: when done poorly, this can be disastrous, but mindless copies of the same old third person narrative can be terrible too. When done well, first person has an almost fast-paced, immediate feeling to it. It also feels more personal and more artistic, kind of like the primitive storytelling that humans were good at for THOUSANDS OF YEARS. So, give it a try. If it works, perhaps your story is meant to be told that way.

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4. Use Only Complete Sentences

If you’re writing academically, then sure. Fiction? It can have positive effects.

See what I did there?

3. Write Every Day

It’s not that I disagree with this rule, it’s just that it’s unrealistic and puts a lot of pressure on aspiring writers who ultimately fail at this and then feel inferior for not reaching this goal. Myself included. If I could rewrite this rule, I would say Write a lot.

Life happens. People have day jobs. And school. And children. And lives. If writing every day doesn’t happen, that’s okay. But don’t doubt the need for time. Writing won’t happen when you’re asleep. Just remember, sometimes quality trumps quantity. You may find that writing every day for ten minutes may not be as productive or as enjoyable as writing for 2 hours every couple days.

2. Write What you Know

I don’t necessarily disagree with this, but I disagree with the misinterpretation this rule carries. I read somewhere once that young people made for bad writers because they were too inexperienced. The argument was that young people should go out and experience the world before attempting writing. I even heard that young writers shouldn’t even try until they had a master’s degree in creative writing. In other words, young writers don’t have enough in the “know” category yet.

Pride-and-Prejudice

I say, to hell with that, write away! Forget about what you know and what you don’t. Write something that comes from the heart. 9 times out of 10, what comes from the heart isn’t just something you know, it’s what is meaningful to the soul. Besides, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s This Side of Paradise was published when he was in his twenties and he dropped out of his undergrad at Princeton without completing. That’s not to say that a writer shouldn’t explore the world around them and get new experiences, I just caution against waiting. Strike the iron while it’s hot, if you can pardon the cliché.

1. There are no Rules

There is perhaps no rule I can disagree with more. Rules are meant to be broken, yes, but that doesn’t mean that there are no rules. Writers still have to adhere to grammar and spelling rules. Failyure to do sow results in sentenses that look like this.

So, don’t listen to those who say that there are no rules. There are. Editors judge pieces based on rules. Publishers judge pieces based on rules. READERS judge pieces based on rules. What this rule means to say is that some rules can and should be broken. Others can even add an element of artistic flair if broken in the right way. Ultimately, you decide, but know that getting an opinion from an editor or trusted reader is always valuable.

Got any rules that plain just don’t make sense?

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Why I’d Rather Pass a Kidney Stone Than Talk About My Writing.

Posted on July 22, 2014 | 9 comments

So far, this summer has been a busy one. I mean, I don’t know which summer hasn’t been busy because seriously, Canada only allots me about 8 to 10 good weeks of summer weather, and the rest of the time, I contemplate immigration. In any case, this means my short summers are jammed packed with social gatherings, family parties, and barbecues to enjoy the limited sun and bathing suit heat we do get. This year though, something has changed.

I’m going to be a published author.

Yay me, right? Don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic. This has been my life dream since before I had any concept of the real world or the feasibility of a career in writing. Well, I’m getting there and people are realizing that too.

But it’s not without struggles. In light of more editing, deadlines, and enough promotional materials to sink a small ship, I’m facing some new situations. Not all are bad: most are awesome and everyone is supportive.

But one makes me want to scream.

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Observe:

“So, you’re getting published, right?” Asks some distant relative, or friend of a friend, or colleague of my mom’s second cousin at that barbecue or other social event.

“Yeah.”

I shift uneasily. I can hear the words that are coming next. They resonate in my brain before they’ve even been verbalized. Abort mission, Michael. ABORT!

“Well, what’s your book about?”

There it is. I freeze. My palms get sweaty. My mouth is dry and I fumble to do something else with myself. Perhaps I need another drink. Perhaps I need to help that older lady climb the stairs. Perhaps I need to start cleaning up this mess because although this party has just started, fixing those misaligned paper plates would make me more comfortable than answering that question.

“Well, you see,” I start. “I’ve written a post-apocalyptic fantasy novel about a village of surviving humans who are stalked by mutant demons that have evolved in the jungle following Earth’s destruction.”

And then comes my favourite part: the glazed-over look in their eyes, the furrowed brow, the confusion. One of two things has happened just now: either they have no idea what I’m talking about, perhaps hung-up on words like post-apocalyptic, or they’re just frightened.

“The apocalypse?” They say. “Oh, that’s… interesting.”

That’s my exit cue. That’s when I normally reach for the vodka bottle for some social lubricant. Maybe I’ll also adjust those paper plates. Things would be much less tense if they weren’t misaligned.

But the struggle must continue. I know what’s coming next, almost like the way you can feel a bad cold by the preceding chills and slight light-headedness.

“I’ve always wanted to write a novel,” they say. “I have all these ideas and I really think I could get somewhere. I just don’t have any time, you know?”

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My insides start churning. I feel like I should say something, like I should tell them that writing isn’t something you just wake up and decide to do. It’s not like buying a latte. You don’t just walk up to a writing bar, give some money to a writing barista, and then BANG! you got a novel.

Not that I mean to disrespect baristas or anyone who actually wants to be a writer, but what people don’t realize is that writing is work. Just like any job, you have to put time into it. It’s like running a marathon. I can’t get up tomorrow and place first in a 20K. I’d fail. Miserably. In fact, I have failed. Writing itself comes with a lot of failure. You gotta go through a lot of rejection before you get ANYONE who believes enough in you or in your work to take you on. I just mean to say that what this person is implying is true: yes, anyone can write. Everyone has ideas that could be novel worthy.

But being a writer? That takes more than just a half-realized fantasy and some spare time.

I don’t say any of these things, of course. Instead, I smile and say “well, you should try it some time”. And this, I actually mean. Give it a try. Set forth, my child, and write away. At least then you’ll realize that writing is more than just a finished product or a contract. Writing is work. Writing is committing yourself to a passion even with other pressures and responsibilities like a full course load or a full time job. Writing is pursuing a dream even when you’re tired and grumpy after a long day and 2 hour commute. Writing is a lifestyle.

What writing is NOT, however, is a snap decision. It most definitely is NOT something that is accomplished easily with a little spare time and a ballpoint pen.

/end rant.

Hope you all are having a wicked week!

What writing (if any) are you pushing through?

 

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The 7 (Agonizing) Stages of Self-Editing Your Fiction

Posted on July 1, 2014 | 3 comments

A look at common struggles a writer encounters while perfecting their masterpiece. Or trying to, at least.

DISCLAIMER: This is not a how-to. This blog cannot be responsible for work that gets lost in editing oblivion. For a how-to, run a Google search. Or join a writer’s forum. I like this one.

Stage 1: The Post-Drafting High

You’ve just finished your piece. The characters are realistic and complex. The descriptions are captivating. The twist at the end: no one will see it coming. NO ONE. Congratulations! Good job, you. This is what you live for. Now, go out and get a beer. Hell, get two! Dance. Make some questionable life choices.

Enjoy it now, young grasshopper.

Stage 2: The Pre-Edit Low (aka. What the Hell Have I Done?)

So, you’re ready to work. You’ve recovered from that hang-over and you’ve corrected all those questionable life choices, though there may still be some photo evidence on Instagram. Go check.

In any case, the document’s open, your title page looks spectacular, and you’ve spent the last hour and a half deleting extraneous tabs and trailing paragraphs.

Now: let’s do a quick read-through. Let’s look out for continuity errors, major plots holes, and breaks in character building. Maybe you should consider reworking that second paragraph. And the next chapter. And the whole middle part. Hell, this looks worse than you remember, doesn’t it? Who wrote this? Clearly, you didn’t. Your IQ is higher than a chimp’s, yet it seems like the chimp could poop out a better manuscript while sleep deprived, post-spicy burrito.

What have you done? All that planning (or lack thereof) has gotten you nothing. The voice is off, your main character is annoying, and that plot twist? Predictable.

Well, fine. I guess you’re rewriting the whole damn thing.

Stage 3: The Rewrite

After recovering from the emotional damage of discovering the story you’ve been working on for the past millennium is terrible, it’s time to do a rewrite. This can consist of just specific parts of your manuscript or the entire thing, but it largely consists of crying, outbursts to family and friends, and reconsidering your choice to become a writer (whose idea was that?).

But hey, maybe this isn’t so bad. You could take that stock character and give them an epic side story. And that twist? Tweak it a bit, and BAM! One hundred times more unpredictable than before. This is actually kind of fun. This is the reason you became a writer in the first place: to WRITE! But don’t get too ecstatic. Most of the good stuff comes from editing after all, remember? That’s why you’re here.

Stage 4: The Break.

You’ve worked hard, right? Why not take a break? Go for a run. Go read a newspaper. Go clean out those drawers in your bedroom that have been overflowing since spring (read: since two springs ago).

But who am I kidding? You don’t wanna do any of that. You’d rather obsessively refresh your Facebook feed then binge-watch Game of Thrones on Netflix while drowning your sorrows into a litre of cookie dough ice cream and a bottle of coke.

Now, that’s a break. Am I right?

Stage 5: The Deadly Cycle of Procrastination

It’s been a couple days. Your Game of Thrones marathon quickly led to Catching Up with the Kardashians and then cat videos on YouTube. However, you’re experiencing a revival of determination. Or maybe it’s that gnawing feeling of idleness.

Either way, the line-by-line is next and that’s going to take the longest. But maybe you should do some laundry before you get started. And feed the cat. Oh, don’t forget to call Mom. She misses you. Your whole family misses you. How about a barbeque? The weather is warm and your social interaction has been subpar lately. Maybe an evening with a bottle of wine. That would be nice.

Do you see? It won’t end.

Seriously. Editing. Go.

Stage 6: The Copyedit

This is the most tedious part – however, also the quickest. This is the part where you drive yourself crazy about your grammar and cut down on the wordiness. No passive sentences, you say? And saidisms? You mean, you can’t use he articulated and I phonated? And heaven forbid you make up your own character or location names. Your word processing program is going to love pointing those out.

(Psst. Add them to your dictionary. Save yourself the agony.)

Stage 7: The Post-Edit High

You did it! You’ve survived your self-edit with your fingers intact and perhaps a shard of your sanity. Never fear though, what comes next is quite possibly the thing you’re looking forward to the most: MORE EDITING!

“What?” You ask. “I thought I was done.”

Well, think again. If you’ve got an editor or a trusted beta-reader, they’re going to have some useful thoughts. Besides, let’s be real, this is what you live for. There’s nothing that compares to a nice and polished manuscript that’s ready to take on the world. Well, maybe a published manuscript could compare, but you’re on your way there anyway!

Happy editing!

POST-SCRIPT: No chimps were hurt during this editing cycle. Or force-fed burritos.

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