By Barbara Poelle
Last year I judged a contest as an anonymous expert. Now there is only one thing in this lifetime you should distrust more than flan, and that is an anonymous expert. However, in this case, I was revealed after the results, so people could spell my name correctly when they added me to their list of People To Kill.
(Come on. You know you have one. I have one. It is on the side of our refrigerator facing the wall because Husband says “people may find it distasteful”. I am like, “When is Fat Guy In Yellow Camry ever going to drop by and be offended?”
You know who you are, Fat Guy. And you know what you did.
You. Know. What. You. Did.)
But I digress. The rules of the contest were for unpublished authors, the first 250 words, give or take. That’s a toughie, ain’t it? I mean go back and check out the first paragraphs of some of your early works. Brutal. But I can at least get an idea of what isn’t working, and more often than not, I end up requested more if there is at least a hint of something happening in the first few paragraphs, so it’s good for everyone.
Anyway, so after it was done I wrote an open letter to the contest participants. I have since paraphrased and cannibalized this letter on many occasions, but I think I am due for an overall holler out to everyone. See, I am really behind on my submissions. I have hired a wonderful intern for the summer, but my intern doesn’t read my slush, I read all of my initial queries. She will be responsible for fanning me with a large palm frond and telling me my hair looks nice. Maybe I’ll have her file something from time to time, but not if it impedes the fanning. So I really don’t see me getting my head above the waterline anytime soon. But I am trying. I promise.
Regardless, I am overdue giving the props to the authors out there. So here it is:
Authors,
Thank you for being so incredibly brave. Sending only 250 words in is like I’ve asked you to see a picture of your child, but only her elbow.
This is a wildly subjective business and for as many times as you have been rejected, multiply x clients with y editors each and know that I have been beaten with the no thank you stick quite a bit myself.
Once my identity is revealed there may be a flurry of googling, and much rolling of eyes and harrumphing (“no wonder she didn’t like mine” “I queried her last year!” “she looks like my cousin, Fran” ) and if you compare my fiction and non-fiction sales, it appears as if I have loaded a cannon up with clients and then fired- they are as scattered in range and subject matter as could be. The identifiable trait that they all seem to have is that they understand the foundation and mechanics of writing and are able to build upon that by composing plot and character and facts that are interesting enough but accessible enough to appeal to a wider range of readers.
Ta-da! There you go. That’s the secret.
Okay, there’s a little more to it than that generally fueled by feelings of rage, mourning, ambivalence, desperation, apathy and a pinch of narcissism just for color, but overall you have to just keep refining your technique by reading and writing as much as you can in order to truly establish a solid understanding of what makes a stand out a stand out.
In the end, however, subjectivity is going to play a role from the first word to the first sale, and that my friends, is the real crux of it. I mean, I love mustard and pickle sandwiches. Love them. But I am not going to be able to force a mustard and pickle sandwich on a ham on rye kind of fellow, but that’s okay, cause this guy over here is perking up at the idea of one, and let me tell you, (if I ever sign you, you’ll get this) if I see an opening I am going to shove that mustard and pickle sandwich in his mouth and make him chew.
Hang on; I think I got away from myself there. And now I’m kind of hungry.
What I am hoping that we all take away from this is that there is such a wide range of agents and editors that you can’t let one or twelve or thirty tell you you ain’t got it, kid. Keep reading what’s on the shelves. Pay attention to your technique and basic writing mechanics. And write. Write like your life depended on it.
Because mine does.
ONWARD!
Barbara Poelle
