All I Want for Christmas…

… is an agent.

Well, or a publisher. But I’ll take an agent.

I wrote a novel this summer. It’s a book for teens, it draws on popular themes without being entirely derivative, and I think it’s a decent concept for a series. I think my good idea was decently executed, as it has gotten positive (and useful!) feedback from people I trust to be honest with me about whether my writing sucks or not.

So I’m taking the plunge and looking to get it published. Doing my homework on agents and pitches and la la la.

The bad news is, writing a query isn’t like writing a book. It’s like pimping your entire personality in a Twitter post. (Try that sometime — it’s an interesting exercise.  Whether you hit the “publish” button is up to you.)

The good news is, lots of people want YA copy, which gives me lots of chances to screw it up. And I only need one “yes” response, right?

So first, I threw myself out there to an agent whose blog I read. I got a fairly cursory “no” with a tincture of helpful advice to “eliminate extraneous details and figure out what makes my effort stand out in an overcrowded field.” Erm. OK.

I thought that over and wrote another one that I intend to send out to three or four people — all of whom say, “if you haven’t heard from us in six weeks, consider that a rejection.”

Six weeks. Happy holidays! You suck!

Let’s hope not.  Prepare for the worst, hope for the best, right?


About arwenbicknell

Editor by day, author by night.
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