Sent out five query letters to literary agents this week in the latest round of “Represent My Novel, Why Don’t You?”  The first round involved 20 queries fired off in Tommy gun fashion at any agency that moved within my field of vision. Big surprise:  Not a one of them managed to bag the game.  This go-round, I took a breath and did significantly more research into which agents and agencies might be most interested in – and best suited for – my manuscript.

An agent put a call out for submissions? Great, but which writers does this agent already represent? Does any of their work fall within the same genre as my book? What about the agency as a whole?  A literary firm with a hundred clients but only one science-fiction writer among the bunch isn’t likely to jump at the next space opera that comes its way.  Instead of firing blindly, I zeroed my weapon, chose my targets carefully, and only then did I squeeze the trigger. OK, I may have driven this hunting metaphor into creepyland -- suffice it to say I did much more homework this time.  Whether that gets me anywhere, we shall see. 

Post by Laura Hayden.

The U.S. government just shut down. If you're like me, you're asking yourself, "What does this mean for David Silva's book?"

Just started both the next round of query letters for my book and a big ol' pot roast using the last of the summer carrots. It remains to be seen which will go down easier. 

The big gimmick for my next book will be I wrote it entirely while idling in line at In 'N' Out. 

Seriously considering sending this the next time a literary agent requests a bio: "David Scott Silva was born in the Los Angeles suburb of Southern California. He attended various colleges in the region, majoring in completed entrance exams. Following a twenty-year newspaper career highlighted by ten years of health insurance, he received an honorary doctorate in alcoholism and a 6-piece set of quality bake ware from the Society of Professional Journalists. He lives in Riverside with his wife Sharon, Australian shepherd Gus, and Italian cat and former city editor Marley."  

Frederik Pohl

Deeply saddened by the passing of 
Frederik Pohl, who proved you can be
a cynic and starry-eyed optimist at once.  

I've decided to make my book infinitely more marketable by lowering the characters' ages to 17 and turning the hero into a bodice-ripping vampire.

Most people don't even know how much their lives were affected by Richard Matheson. He not only wrote some of the best science fiction, horror and fantasy in film and television (The Incredible Shrinking Man, Hell House, What Dreams May Come and the book on which Somewhere In Time was based), but he invented the modern zombie genre with I Am Legend. Matheson was a national treasure. 

Trader Joe's Cashier: So whatcha doing these days, sweetie?

Me: Not much...just trying to get this book published.

Cashier: A book? You wrote a book?

Me: Yeah.

Cashier: How long did it take you to write it?

Me: Seven months. And I've spent a month so far trying to get it published.

Cashier: Well, I'll keep my fingers crossed for you.

Me: Thank you, that's very sweet.

Cashier: Hey, I know what you're going through. My husband's been out of work for a year too.

Just started the second installment of my book series. Sure, the first book hasn't been sold to anyone, but why until the last minute?

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And then there's that special moment in the life of every novelist when he receives his first rejection slip.

I'm becoming something of an expert on the needs, desires, hopes, dreams, yearnings, fancies, aspirations, wants, hungers, tics, quirks, peccadilloes, hobbies, addictions, afflictions and affectations of the common North American literary agent. 

Sending out query letters to prospective literary agents as we speak. Every journey begins with a single step. This is my 50th or so step, after developing the concept for a novel, writing it, editing it, re-editing it, composing six separate query pitches and two separate synopses, etc. -- so I suppose I'm getting somewhere. 

After reading a dozen or so articles with conflicting advice on writing a novel synopsis, I wrote a 10-page, chapter-by-chapter synopsis of my book. Then, after reading on several agency websites that they wanted a 2-page synopsis, I reduced the 10-page synopsis to two pages by omitting a lot of details I'd previously believed were indispensable. Then, after reading on several more agent websites that they wanted only a 1-page synopsis, I reduced the 2-page synopsis to one page by omitting adjectives and adverbs. Anticipating what I'll be reading tomorrow, I've decided to get ahead of the curve by reducing the 1-page synopsis to a half-page by omitting punctuation. 

This blog badly needs art. Here's a pretty cat to look at. 

I once got a call from the construction manager of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge improvement program, complimenting me on the 2,000-word article I'd written about the project's structural engineering challenges. He asked where I studied engineering and I told him "Google." I once ghost-wrote a 100-page manual on golf tips based on a pile of scribbled notes from a famously alcoholic golf pro. After it published, he asked if I wanted to get together to play a few holes, and I told him I never played a game of golf in my life. All of which to say that if there's one thing in this world I know how to do, it's write copy. It's what I do. So will someone please explain to me why -- why, why, why -- can I not write two freaking paragraphs describing my novel to a literary agent?

"Submissions should consist of a one-page query letter detailing the novel as well as the qualifications of the author."

Qualifications of the author? How about this: It's a freaking novel. If it's good, I'm qualified. If it's bad, I'm not.

Finished editing, and now it's all about writing the synopsis -- explaining 412 pages of plot in less than eight pages. In other words, using fewer words than I otherwise would to describe something. This does not come naturally to me, I assure you. 

Was just at the FedEx store having copies of my book printed for Sharon to edit, and the clerk asked me what it felt like to write it. "Like having a 113,000-word baby without an epidural," I said. "Wow, that sounds tough," she said. "Yeah, but just look at it," I replied, holding up the thumb drive that held the file. "Isn't she the most beautiful baby you've ever seen?" 

Just finished my novel. Four hundred and seventeen pages, seven months of my life. Still have to edit it, and, you know, find an agent and get it published and all that. But I've written a novel, and this is one of the happiest days of my life! 

Been going through a semi-insomniac stretch, waking up at odd hours unable to go back to sleep. Eyes snapped open at 4 this morning and I've been shuffling around like Falstaff ever since. Pretty sure it's about my book...I'm about 30 or so pages from finishing and the sheer weight of it has me utterly distracted. Gus is loving it, though...he's at my feet hoping we'll get in the car and find an all-night burger joint.