Dear Agents, Please Like My Book

The last word is typed. The celebratory beer has been cracked open and I just ordered pizza and wings. My book is done, and now it is time to sell the hell out of it. I researched how to write query letters. The guides are all pretty much the same: keep it short, be direct, don’t exaggerate, you probably won’t be the next Stephen King. Turns out, writing the letter isn’t the hard part. No, the hard part is finding someone to send it to, along with deciding who gets to read the baby you’ve been nursing for quite some time.

I tried the usual route; top fifty literary agents in America. The first was some digital media company, and I immediately clicked next; not that they wouldn’t be a great agency, but simply looking at the website left me feeling small and insignificant; like looking down from the top of a mountain, thinking I’ll fall forever, knowing I’ll eventually splat on the ground. The next few were smaller, more cozy, if you will. Less agents, longer client lists. I looked for literary agents of some of my favorite authors. Donna Tartt’s is worth a look, as is Roxanne Gay’s. Maybe if they get tired of working with super stars they could spare a few glances on little ole me.

I’m not a fool. Getting an agent, publishing, it’s all uphill from hill. No matter what agent chooses me, I’m going to be on top of that mountain, terrified. I sent the letter to an agent today, in one of the more cozy agencies; I held my breath, I hit send and the email shot away from me, and I’ve been waiting ever since, checking my email, praying she’ll love my idea and beg for more. Maybe I am a fool.

I’ve made up my mind though; if I don’t have an agent, or a publisher, by the end of July I’m going to self publish on Amazon. It helps to have a plan in place.