Taking a Leap of Fiction

I did it. Today I submitted nearly fifty simultaneous queries, some with samples, to various literary agents and agencies across the US. I spent hours this past week writing each letter as a draft, crafting each to it’s agent; and this morning from 7AM-10AM I submitted them all. I tried to optimize this process to find the best day and time to submit for the best chance of being seen before landing in a slush pile to be found later, and I came up with Tuesday/Wednesday morning. So that’s when I submitted.

One giant weight has been lifted and not another has taken its place. Now I must wait to hear back from any of these places, either in rejection or acceptance. Only time will tell. Until next time.



A Writers Work is (Almost) Never Done

I lied. I didn’t send out my novel with the last post. I spent the summer working in an office, and working on the novel in my free time. I printed, edited, re-wrote, and edited again. I print so I can edit by hand, and edit on the manuscript itself with red pen. Now, these months later, I feel the most ready I can be to send out the novel. I’ve tirelessly poured over the query, compiled a list of agents and agencies in an excel doc, and edited the manuscript itself ad absurdum.

By the end of the month I will take the time to simultaneously submit the queries and attached manuscript samples to every applicable agency I can find. I’ll keep you all posted.


Dominant Submissions

We’ve talked about the entire writing process, from pre-writing to post-writing, and every hindrance or sidestep along the way. Now, after I’ve beat around the bush for a semester, I’ve reached a point in editing that I’m now prepared to send my manuscript out for rejection once again.

But not so fast.

One cannot just mail a completed manuscript, wrapped in brown butcher paper and tied up with twine, to Scribner’s or Penguin, and become the next American great. The only way to get published this easy is to pay for the scam of self-publishing, and wave your very own ISBN around like a winning lottery number. No, it is far more difficult.

The publishing process, like the writing process, and like the editing process, is tedious, long, and quite possibly one of the most rewarding parts of a rewarding process.

If you want to get published, buy the book Writers Market in whatever yearly addition matches your financial situation. I usually buy one that’s two or three years old, because it’s more than half as cheap and not a whole lot changes in that time that can’t be figured out online.

From here, just use this, find the applicable literary agents to represent your respective work, and then create a spreadsheet. Here’s mine:

lit agencies

From here, craft a query, make a general one and then get personal for each agency. And then, when you are absolutely ready to publish your novel take that leap. Send out these queries, paying close attention to what each agency wants, and then sit and wait, and wait. It could be weeks or months, but just wait for the rejections, or the constructive criticism, or maybe even the acceptances to come in.

Congratulations, and happy writing.


Writing a Novel, Before Writing a Novel.

In going back over my novel in the edits, I stumbled across the many many notes and outlines I put together in order to create the novel. In essence, I wrote the novel before I wrote the novel. This post will be dedicated to, in detail, the pre-writing process.

First thing’s first, you need an idea. But you don’t just need an idea, you need an idea that you are passionate about. You can’t dedicate yourself to months or years of work on an idea that you only kind of are interested it.

Next, turn this idea into a story. Create characters, build a world, introduce a goal, and create conflict. Once you have a rough idea of this, you can figure out the general, and basic outline of the story.

In between all of this you’ll probably have little bouts of inspiration. Use these but control these. This is where a lot of authors get caught up, and ultimately give up. One morning eating breakfast you might have a spark of inspiration and come up with the perfect first line, so you take this inspiration and start writing, but that inspiration fades and you don’t totally have an idea where the story is going and you loose steam, and then you just give up. Instead of falling into this trap, only write down that first line, and stop. I do this whenever inspiration strikes, and take all of these lines and put them into a single document.

I take this document, and take my rough outline, and all of my other notes on the story (character descriptions, references, supplements, etc), and I collect them

From here, you can take all of this pre-work and create a full outline. I take the rough outline, and add to it, while adding in the lines where they would fit into the story, and I create a roughly twenty to thirty page outline of the novel in a yellow legal pad.

Oh yeah, footnote, I love legal pads, and I do almost all of the writing, or drawing, or note-taking I do (that’s not in a computer) in them.

And this is your outline. You can tweak it, add to it, and go over it until you are fully ready to sit down and write. And when you are, make yourself a pot of coffee, have a good meal, and do what you do best- Write.


A Terror Way Beyond Falling.

TW: Depression, suicide.

So far, I’ve talked a fair deal about the things that stand as barriers between one and one’s pursuits, weather these be procrastination, failure, or finding the balance between creativity and focus. Yet, so far, I’ve failed to mention the single greatest challenge in writing I’ve had thus far. The single greatest obstacle I have to overcome every time I set out to accomplish something. Depression.

David Foster Wallace, in context, compared depression, and more specifically suicidal depression, to the reason why people jump out of burning buildings to their death; these people jump because they are facing a terror way beyond falling, the flames. This is the most apt a description of my experiences with depression that I have ever read.

I’d like to say now, that I am well, the worst is certainly behind me; I am and have been doing worlds better than the dark days I faced (and wrote about) in high school and after. This, however, doesn’t mean that the depression itself does not linger, even though I’ve learned to cope with it better.

The kind of depression I have is the lifelong kind, not the seasonal, or manic-depressive, it’s a constant ennui that permeates into every corner of being. When you’re depressed, even the most menial tasks become vexing and seemingly impossible, among these are chiefly getting out of bed, along with mustering the effort to accomplish things. Some days I can ignore it and work past it, and other day’s it’s a great deal more difficult to do so.

There are things that help with this, routine is one, so is scheduling and making and checking off lists, eating well, exercising when I can, and making the effort to go outside and see people even when I don’t feel like it all. All of these are things that help, and all of these are things that become more difficult to do the worse you feel, but you just gotta keep going. It’s helped to write about things too. To give that trauma or that burden to a character that can be strong for me.

In The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath asked “Is there no way out the mind?” And well, the answer is no. But this shouldn’t be a prison sentence, for as Camus argued (a really good guy to read if you want to pull yourself out of existential dread and depression), life is hard but we must find the joy in the labor, and suicide is never the answer.


“I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one’s burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy”

-Albert Camus



A little while ago, I shared with you the first few paragraphs of my novel. But these we’re always the first few paragraphs.

Contrary to what might be the common misconception, novels aren’t finished when you type ‘the end’ at the end of a first draft. This is a big accomplishment, nonetheless, but it is in no way ‘finishing a book;’ it is simply getting over one of the bigger hurdles to accomplishing this lofty ambition.  When I finished writing a first draft, I was exhausted, but exalted. But then, I went back to work. One thing that I worked on, in particular, was crafting this opening.

“I remember when I used to think people our age were adults. I remember when I used to look up to my father. Now I’m taller than him.

I had this line in my head for some time before even starting the novel, like a seed. But the line was never exactly like this. Sometimes it was ‘dad’ and sometimes it was ‘father.’ sometimes it was all one sentence, sometimes two, and sometimes three. It needed to not be too long, nor too short, (landing somewhere in-between the 141 words of the first line of A Tale of Two Cities and the three of Moby Dick. I wrote and re-rote this one small paragraph over and over in my mind, trying to get each syllable right; trying to get the perfect combination of intrigue and humor intertwined with the perfect cadence, so every tap of the tongue lands just right.

My favorite paragraph of the novel, currently the second paragraph, actually started out as the closer to the opening chapter; but I moved it up as I changed it. It’s a process, and a process of editing and changing, until everything is as good as I can make it. And that’s precisely what this little post is about, change. Change is normal, change is good, and change should be encouraged. That’s life, and that’s writing.




Not to be Reproduced.


Self-reflection is hard.


Editing is hard not just because self-criticism is hard, but instead because it can be never-ending. It feels as though writing is never done, only done enough. Every time I go back on something I’ve written, anything, there are always tweaks to be made. Mark Twain was known to write edits and annotations in the margins of his already published novels, in a then common practice known as marginalia. I, too, find myself doing this almost any time I re-read something I’ve written.  The hard part isn’t the editing itself, it’s knowing when to stop editing.

Plenty has been written about the difficulties and necessities of calculated and detached editing, to be able to kill your darlings; and I’ll admit that this is hard to do. I’ve already had to cut, wholesale, an entire character and plot-line from the novel in this round of revisions in the name of brevity, wit, and streamlining the main plot. This is hard, but so is finding the balance between useful tweaking and obsessive re-working. There’s a compulsion to make every sentence perfect, because nothing is more harmful to creativity than good enough.

But there’s the rub. We are our own harshest critics, and at the same time, we can be our own greatest (and most harmful) champions. There’s an incredible narcissism to believing that you (or I) can be the one to tell the story, but that’s precisely where the discipline to be an honest and harsh critic and editor needs to come into play. It’s about a balance, a difficult and seemingly impossible balance, but one I’m hoping and trying to find.



“…Writing is something that you can never do as well as it can be done. It is a perpetual challenge and it is more difficult than anything else that I have ever done—so I do it. And it makes me happy when I do it well.”

― Ernest Hemingway