Queries

Around Christmas when I had some time off, I got caught up in the idea of publishing a book from these blog entries. The first thing you have to do when you want to publish a book, apparently, is find a literary agent. But back up – to find a literary agent, you have to write a really savvy and eye-catching query letter that sells you, your book, and explains its potential market in a few short paragraphs.

I’ve never been good at “selling.” I’m always the creative liaison, the idea person, the person who works on underlying themes and puts information together. When I worked for a law firm, partners pounded into our heads the idea of client relations, client marketing of our firm’s “products,” and landing client accounts. The whole idea made me feel like I was chewing on ground glass and I was not a successful “rainmaker.”

Drafting query letters to literary agents “selling” my work about something as profoundly shocking as my child’s sudden death struck me as slightly impossible. Either I wrote something like a Ladies Home Journal “My Problem and How I Solved It” piece, or I wrote a glib, sassypants letter that had no real heart and soul. Or I described a “Tragedy of the Month” that no one could bear.

I ended up sending about three short letters out to agents, and feeling pretty dreadful about the whole process. This was in January, and I haven’t heard a damn thing in return. That’s to be expected, I suppose.

The whole thing caused me such anxiety that afterward, I decided to drop it. I just start writing again, not with any thought of shaping my blog entries toward publication, but just to have an outlet for my feelings. I need that. For me.