That title got your attention, didn’t it? You’re thinking there’s going to be some big music festival with kegs and women who don’t shave their legs. I’m so sorry to disappoint, but a) that’s Lilith Fair and b) “Querypalooza” is my word concoction for the four-day weekend I’m currently slogging through. I set aside these days to push through the remainder of my phase-one agent query list. For the last two days I have written, rewritten, printed, signed, reformatted and researched my way through hours of submissions. I’d love to tell you I’m finished, but that would be a lie.
I do enjoy using “palooza” whenever I can work it into conversation. On a recent trip to Ireland we spent the first three days going from one medieval castle to another. I referred to it as “Castlepalooza.” It was a lot more fun than this, but you get where I’m coming from. The word is fun to say and it makes people think you’re doing something they wouldn’t want to miss out on. Believe me, you want to miss out on Querypalooza.
Why, you ask? Aside from the absence of the aforementioned kegs and hippie chicks, (if that’s your scene. . . .I’m not judging) there is the necessity of the unfortunate and ubiquitous SASE.
SASE. Say what?
The SASE is better known to the world as the self-addressed, stamped envelope. Now why would such an innocuous little missive be such a downer? Let me explain. When you send an e-mail query, you may or may not get a return e-mail giving you the brush-off. But when you are forced (by certain agents who REFUSE to avail themselves of the quick, easy, and TOTALLY FREE method of e-mail) to resort to regular post office delivery, it forces you to do a song and dance of printing and stamping and paying for priority postage so you can have a tracking number to be able to tell if the package ever got there. (Because heaven forbid you would call them to make sure. Simply. Not. Done.) Once you have it all ready to go you add the required SASE to the package. The SASE has one purpose and one purpose only. If the agent likes your query and sample materials you’ll get a phone call asking you to send a full manuscript or letting you know that you are, in fact, the greatest writer of the last 50 years and they are dying to represent you. (Warning. . .these calls are as frequent as substantiated unicorn sightings.) But really, chances are you’re going to get a big REJECTION and the agency doesn’t want to have to pay to crush your dreams. So you do it yourself. You get yourself a number 10 envelope (the self-adhesive type – so they don’t have to lick it), type up a neat little label with your own name and address, and you affix a bonafide American stamp to it. (If it’s also self-adhesive wouldn’t that make it a SASASE? Sheesh!) Anyhow, you mail the package to that great agenting paradise of the north, New York City. Your little SASE is safely inside.
Then you hope you never see it again.
Because if it shows up in your mailbox weeks later, it’s not there with news that your manuscript just sold for a million bucks and Steven Spielberg would really like to make a movie about it. No, sir. If it shows up in your mailbox it means you have just successfully paid for the honor of being told you’re not good enough. In writing. Delivered right to your house by the government.
I think it’s possible that Querypalooza is taking its toll on me. I might need to get out of the office for a while. So here’s the tally so far:
86 queries sent, 1 request for a partial, 11 rejections, and 2 bounce-backs with no known forwarding address
I’ll be glad to get these things out so I can write something else. Do you suppose wanting to write another novel so I can start this process over again with more rejections and more SASEs is a form of mental illness? Boy, I hope not. I don’t think Obamacare covers it.
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