I have begun querying literary agents.

I may have never mentioned with my serious face on: I write novels.

Pretty serious, am I right?

I heard a story once about a man who spoke with God. The details of my memory seem to be a little fuzzy because I feel like I remember that there was like a flood involved and maybe somebody hunting a leprechaun, and I feel like there were sea stars in it too. Anyway, the point is, the upshot of the story was God said to the guy, “Well…did you buy a ticket?”

I’ll always remember that.

You see, the person in question had never won the lottery. That’s the key which untangles this particular mixed metaphor. You see, when the fellow finally tracked God down to express his displeasure, he explained — the fellow did, not God — that the only thing he had ever prayed for was to win the lottery. Whereupon he — God, not the fellow — said, “Well…did you buy a ticket?”

The guy said no. And then he threw his sea star back into the ocean, which rose up to drown him, and it turned out that the whole scenario was a metaphor for the way that he was actually a leprechaun who was about to be coerced by kidnappers to pay through the schnoz for the return of his most prized buckley hat.

The main reason this story is so important to me is that it clearly demonstrates the value of having a go at a thing. Yoda (There’s a tetchy little leprechaun and all, am I right?) Yoda says to do, or do not, and that there is no try. And I see where he’s coming from. I agree, to a point, that there’s no point in starting unless you mean, from the beginning, to succeed. It’s like punches: Aim for the back of the other guy’s head, or else what’s the point of punching at all? So yeah, do or do not. I’m all for that.

The trouble I’ve got is with the language about the nonexistence of trying. Seems like trying is the first step. You’ve got to attempt — you’ve got to strive. You’ve got to act. You’ve got to do. Without doing — without movement — you’re restricting yourself to endless stagnation.

So you’ve got to take that first step. Buy the lottery ticket. Do something. Plan on succeeding, but don’t be afraid of failure. Fear’s what’s stopping Luke anyway. Fear of Failure and that.

I’ve gone sort of dizzy.

Anyway, so what’s up is like this: Novel-writing has been my main goal and my main bag since I was twelve. I’ve always felt like it was the main thing that I wanted to do in my life.

Thing is, I’ve rarely — never…no, rarely ever taken some of the first steps to start out on the road from fiddling about with words for my own amusement to, as it were, Going Pro. I’ve always said, “I’m not ready.”

Meh. I might not still be ready.

I might not be ready for a long time.

But I’ve written a novel. That’s something.

What’s more, I like to read this novel. That’s a bigger thing.

I’m happy to show it to all comers. That’s a biggest thing. I’ll show it to you, in fact. Full text, as it stands right now. Free for the first hundred comers, and up for negotiable trade to the next thousand. My personal thank you to the six or seven excellent people who are so kind as to plod around on my blog long enough to discover I’ve made the offer.

I might not be “ready,” whatever that means, to “do,” as Yoda would advise.

But sure as a prosciutto and caper’s sandwich is good, I’m ready to stop “do not”ing, if that’s even grammar. I’m ready to buy a metaphorical lottery ticket.

I have queried a literary agent today. For many years in the writing profession, that has been among the many relevant first steps on the path from willful amateur to dedicated professional.

I’m still not sure that traditional publishing is the direction that I’m planning to go with this, or any, novel that I write. But if the winds are blowing the direction I believe that they are blowing, then no literary agent will be able to continue to operate according to “traditional publishing” rules either. I predict that literary agents will need to change what they do in order to survive, and I think they’re probably in the best position to do that of anyone in the industry as it is anyway.

So maybe my experiment sending a query off to an agent will work perfectly, but maybe it won’t. Let the historians of the future be my judge.

This is the official first statement of my new personal philosophy, in effect until further notice:

I’m not ready — time to start.

Dispatches from the Adventure (Exclusive “news-lite” letter).
Follow the Adventure (Patreon profile. Project announcements will be here).
The Adventurer takes tips (PayPal tip jar).