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. 

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. 

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.

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.

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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. 

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. 

"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.

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!