Return Ticket to Agent Town

I read a bit of advice a while back which loosely said, "find a publishing deal first, then an agent. You won't like the kind of agent you're likely to find without a deal." This is in reference to the plethora of good-hearted souls out there who claim to be publishers, but really just want to charge editing fees and take all your money without ever publishing your work. So I started approaching publishers directly.

I thought I had found the publisher for me! She was looking for "socially relevant personal journeys." The only way my book could be more perfect for her list was if I could have somehow rigged the book itself to play, "Don't Stop Believin'" (Journey's greatest hit in case you happen to not be old. Just thought I would explain the joke to the kids. And now I'm done.)

I sent her my first query, but she sent it back covered in red ink. She carefully explained everything I did wrong, but invited me to fix the query and send it back. She said I needed a strong marketing platform since the "Coping Memoirs" genre is so saturated. I was elated to have another chance, but I knew I lacked a gimmick.

I decided to focus on the sheer drama of my life, hoping that a good story could still sell a book these days. I explained the car accident, the pain, my crazy mother, the rampant abuse, rebuilding my life with nothing but $25 bucks and a cracker (do you think it's enough...) Just when I thought I had put it all back together there was the miscarriage, and my mother's suicide two weeks later. As I stuck what was left of my mother in a drawer and asked the Universe, "What's next?" a surprise baby came along to carry and care for just when I felt sure that my soul had already left the building... I could go on, but the James Frey police might come after me.

She said my query was better, but she still wasn't interested because the way I have survived this life was not revolutionary enough to sell to the media. Too bad I didn't rise above my grief long enough to buy a Julia Child's cook book or some other inane set up that seems to sell books.

I have thought about this for several days now. At first I just wanted to tell her that the very fact that I did survive AND became a contributing member of society IS revolutionary. But now I have decided to find comfort in the idea that I'm ordinary. It means that if I can go through this much garbage and come out a better person in the end, anyone else can too.

More research has led me to plenty of books about regular people coping with crappy things in ordinary ways. But those publishers won't accept work directly from the author, so now I'm back in the hunt for an agent. In the meantime, I plan to cook tofu everyday and journal about how it changes my life, and then I'm going to attempt the impossible and run a hundred mile foot race with no ability or training so that I can come to terms with my grief, blah blah, blah.

Why Memoirs Are Important

I am in the middle of reading Angela's Ashes, and I am enjoying it immensely. When it came out I was not in a good place in my life, and I felt like that last thing I needed was to read about more pain and suffering. But after three different people compared the way I have told my life story without self pity to Frank McCourt's book, I thought it was finally time to give it a read. I can only say that I wish I had read it sooner. It has sparked a lot of deep thoughts, and I thought I should write them down.

There is a force in nature that maintains balance in all things. Some might call this power God. I am just one girl, and I wouldn't pretend to know the shape and reach of this force; whether it is some omnipotent being who gives and takes and judges. I only know the balance I see in the world. It is our job to maintain this balance by caring for ourselves, those around us, and everything we touch.
To each of us our sorrows are deep and real, and many of us pray for relief. The Universe hears all of us crying and grasping tight at her skirts like infants, begging to be picked up, carried along, comforted. Our troubles exist in the same time and space as all others, and compared to the pain of some, our lives would feel blessed, but we are not always open to that knowledge. If only we could hold up our sorrows to the light cast off by every other creature, maybe then we could see that right now may not be our time of greatest need. We might even notice the problems of others near us and realize that we can help.
Putting your own suffering in perspective by knowing the lives and challenges of others is a gift of clarity and peace. I believe that this is why memoirs are important. Reading other people's life stories has helped me to appreciate the many things in my life that have been blessings, and to understand the things that have caused me pain a bit better.

Back in the Saddle Again

I have nursed my wounds long enough (too long, I'm sure.) Yesterday I sent out yet another query letter to yet another agent. This will be the 39th agent I have queried. I finally counted and I feel better because it felt like I had received over 100 rejections.

I have a new vision for the project, which means a lot more work, and a lot more writing. Fingers crossed kids!

Authonomy, I want my life back

About two months ago, Kris sent me a link to a new website called authonomy.com run by HarperCollins. It is a place for writers to post their work and get feedback from a lively community of other writers and avid readers. The top five books that receive the most support get sent to an editor at HarperColins each month. Most of you will remember my constant and annoying plea for votes. My book was doing great until they changed the rules in the middle of the game. Suddenly votes from friends and family didn't count as much as votes from regular users of the site. I dropped from 17 to 55 in one day. It was heartbreaking.

The book is back up to about 25 these days, but I'm convinced it will wallow there forever if I don't start working the system. I need to get active in the forum and make some friends, but I find their conversations and arguments silly. I can't imagine spending any more time on that site than I already do.

I did receive the nicest comment shortly after the last agent rejected me, which made me feel a lot better.
A perfect stranger who didn't have to say a thing about my book said this:

Lissa. I think this is a wonderful read.

I'm sure that everyone believes their lives to be worthy material for a biography or film or both, but often as not, even when the material is strong enough, the presentation is not. I found this well written, easy to read, and somehow familiar? Not that I have heard this story before - how could I?! - but the style and flow seemed very... comfortable as a reader. The sort of thing you could pick up and return to as if you hadn't been away from it for a while.

For some reason I found myself reminded of Angela's Ashes - yet neither your writing style or plot are actually anything similar! There was just something about the 4 chapters I have read that gave it that feel of being more than a run of the mill biography, where someone preaches about their life as being either special or extraordinary.

So I've shelved this for a while. Books are meant to make you think. I have always felt a good book is one that you think about after you have finished it, and not just one you can lose yourself in when reading it. I find the American style so different for many reasons, (Mom v Mum, etc etc), and thinking about the differences between our childhoods is thought provoking enough for me. Also, the ending to chapter 4 caught me, so I know I will try and come back to read more - another good sign.

A lovely book, and you have my best wishes with it.
Jason

I love it when strangers are nice. For all of authonomy's faults, a few people there have inspired me to continue my quest to be published. So I will rewrite my pitch for the 9th time and start sending it out to agents again.

If you want to take a look, you can find some of my book here:
http://www.authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx?bookid=1375

Keep on Keepin' on

Picture it: A book signing at Borders Books and Music about two weeks ago.

My target: Richard Paul Evans.

I dragged Kris and Rosie to Murray on an insane mission. For weeks I had been obsessing over finding someone who knew Mr. Evans, hoping for an introduction. I was coveting his book agent, and hoping for a recommendation that would send my manuscript to the top of her slush pile. After another tenuous connection to Mr. Evans fell through, I decided to just make my own. Since I had been studying his website in an not-at-all-stockerish way I knew that he had a book signing coming up.

The line was much shorter than I had anticipated, leaving me very little time to muster up the courage to talk to Mr. Evans. As people trickled through the door, I let them go in front of me, not wanting an audience.

Finally it was my turn. A few chapters of my book shook in my hand. I opened my mouth and begged the Universe to let something intelligent come out.

"Um," I said. I was off to a great start. "I wrote a book... about my life..." I swear I went on and on for roughly 17 minutes. I couldn't stop myself. The look on his face was painful. He set his pen down on the table and sat back in his chair, simply waiting for me to stop talking.

Then he said, "I don't read manuscripts anymore, since someone sued me a few years ago."

My eyes popped out, and I shook my head. "I would never..."

He held up his hand and finally smiled. "I can still recommend you." He picked up his pen again and wrote down his agent's phone number in New York.

I called the next day, and was told to email the whole book. Then I waited.

And waited.

Most agents had sent me a quick reply that they were too busy, so I tried to convince myself that a 14 day delay was a good thing.

Then the email finally arrived. She was too busy. Best of luck.