I met writers today. REAL writers! Folks who have published books sitting right there on bookstore shelves. Published WRITERS!!!
As I slobbered after them, trying hard to maintain my last semblance of decorum while drool ran down my chin, I noticed something odd. They walked on two legs just like the rest of us. Their feet touched the ground. They smiled at the commoners around them. Like they meant it. They seemed … honest to goodness … NORMAL.
Then, one of the Goddess Writers engaged me in conversation. ME? Yes, me. She confided that she sent out sixty-five query letters before she got her agent. SIXTY FIVE!!! She said only three responded to her sixty-five kind queries. Suddenly, this lovely young writer was more than normal. She was me. She was you. She said encouraging things like, Don’t give up, and Just keep querying, it’ll happen for you.
I loved her.
I think she loved me.
I promised (silently) that I wouldn’t let her down. I’d get out my Guide to Literary Agents and find sixty-five agents to nicely query. I’d research these agents and personalize each of the sixty-five letters, all of which I’ll mail on Monday. Then I’ll track each letter and its response, or lack thereof. If I don’t find an agent in sixty-five letters, I’ll send out another sixty-five. There are over 650 listings in my Guide, and certainly ONE of these fine folks would like to take on a new client. Certainly there’s ONE.
There’s a big fat old blazing fire under me at the moment.
Wish me luck! I’ll hold good thoughts for you.