Adventures in Querying: Receiving the First of Many Bloody Noses

We've all had that dream. No, I am not talking about the dirty bathroom dream where all of the stalls make the use of an outhouse at the yearly fair seem like a delightful prospect. Nor am I referring to the dream where you are walking naked through your old high school during peak rush hour and you can't seem to find your locker. I am talking about the dream so many writers have about sending out their first query letter. It usually goes something like this.

You send out the letter to the big-wig agent. (It is of course your first attempt.) They read it and immediately call you up and offer a billion dollar contract for your stupendous piece of literary art. You, without hesitation, accept the outrageous offer and within months find yourself on the set of the movie adaptation of your book. Okay, so the dream might vary a smidge for some, but the concept is pretty much the same. There are no disappointments, and there are certainly no bubble deflating rejections.

We writers want to be heard. We want an audience for our stories. The problem is, there is a universe of noise that stands between us and the people we so long to connect with. For many, the agent is the one who helps us navigate through the rivers of crap. The hard part is finding someone willing to take the risk on our work, and timing is everything.

Cold, hard reality check in 3, 2, 1...........

Unfortunately, none of us are clairvoyant. We can't know what the "right time" is for the agent we hope is the "right fit". Oh sure, there is that lucky writer soul that comes along and strikes at the perfect moment just after morning coffee but before the bran muffin hits in all its unforgiving glory. Just like there are people who get record deals because the executive happens to hear them singing in the bathroom stall right next to them. (I am so NOT that person.)

The reality for the rest of us is that luck like that doesn't exist. We have to work our butts off to get noticed. We have to jump up and down, find the right words, and sometimes make asses of ourselves to get any attention. And sometimes that means we are going to get punched in the nose for our efforts at some point in time.

The other night I got one of my bloody noses. Its not really the first bloody nose I have received, and I sure as heck know it won't be my last. It still stung. My heart still hurt a little. My eyes got teary, and for a moment...just a brief little moment, I felt bad about the blow.

I got the email late at night - sent at 10:21 p.m. I was up reading someone else's book on my e-reader when the notice came in. I should have left the email for the morning when I would have been more equipped to handle what I had read. The thing was <true confessions here>, I had been waiting and hoping for weeks, so my curiosity got the best of me. The next thing I knew, my face was bloodied, and I found myself sitting up in the middle of the night wondering what I had done wrong.

The letter wasn't particularly bad, but it wasn't particular good either. It read much like what you would expect from someone returning an entrée they weren't satisfied with. I don't think I will forget the line I am afraid I will be passing. I could almost see the crinkle of distaste in the agent's lip. I have said the same thing after finding a hair in a dish. No thanks, I think I'll pass.

Needless to say, it took me a while to get to sleep. I had to staunch the blood flow before my head hit the pillow. I knew I wasn't going to bleed to death, but when you get hit with disappointment after such high hopes, it is easy for things to spiral out of control, especially in the middle of night. I grabbed my Kleenex, and I started thinking.

The story I am trying to sell is different from the current market stream. There are no vampires, werewolves, or zombies. There is no magic in the story at all. Just a gritty teenager and a really bad ass story with a lot of heart. (Gotta defend the story here folks. Bear with me.) My point is, sometimes "different" isn't what people are looking for. Some of the biggest names in the business got turned down when they first sent out their queries. Their big breaks came during chance encounters at writers' conventions after being turned down time and time again. Or it came when they ditched convention and self-published. So the query letter isn't always a guaranteed win.

So where does that leave me? You might think right where I was before I sent out my letter, but you would be wrong if you took that path of assumption. In truth, I am better off than I was before I hit the send button on my computer. Yes I got a little banged up, but the truth of the matter is, I believed enough in myself and my writing to take a risk. I received a 'no' from the agent, but that doesn't mean it is the last time that agent will ever hear from me. As a matter of fact, sometimes being gracious and a bit tenacious is the best response in the face of a rejection.

The very first thing I did was send a 'thank you' note to the agent while the tears were fresh. That person did after all take the time to read through the stuff that I sent out. Courtesy is quickly becoming a lost art, so a positive response on my part certainly can't hurt. It might even make a lasting impression.

I have a choice in all of this. I can either curl up into a tiny ball and cry until my tear ducts swell shut and cease working, or I can be like the badger dog and hold on for dear life. I like badger dogs. They are tenacious, and they don't give up. It is how they survive. After all, badgers are mean, and they take no prisoners. The realm of publishing that I have stepped into is a lot like the badger....mean and unforgiving sometimes....or so I have heard. I have to find a way to survive as I follow this path to my dreams.

So here's to bloody noses, however many I receive, and here is to never giving up as I count my blows. One of my favorite authors, who has been a great encouragement to me, received over fifty rejections before his first book was picked up. That's a lot of Kleenex. Guess I better go buy a few more boxes because I am in for the long haul. See you around folks!

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If you enjoyed this post, don't forget to connect with H.L. Stephens on Google+, Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter. Also check out H.L. Stephen's mystery series The Chronicles of Mister Marmee. Book 1 - The Case of Jack the Nipper and book 2 - The Case of the Wayward Fae are available in print and eBook format. Coming Soon! Book 3 - The Case of the Monkey's Misfortune.

What Makes an Author "Real"?

I have experienced some low blows in my life; you know the kind that leaves you reeling once it has been delivered......where you wonder what you have done to deserve such a whammy. I won't bore you with the details of the myriad pains I have experienced over the years because frankly, I prefer not to relive those inglorious moments. Punishing myself with their recollection does me no good except to remind me of the feelings of helplessness I felt during those moments when I wish the words I hold so dear had come more readily to my lips.

Rather than relive those times, I strive to move forward, leaving those events and the people who perpetuated them in the dust of my forward momentum. I always have the option of writing about such moments later of course; masking the villains of my past in some well-cloaked character where the outcome of the confrontation is somehow more glorious in my fantasy world than it felt at the time in my reality. But in the here and now, I must find ways to cope as a professional....as a person....as a tender-hearted soul who has the capacity to be hurt by the thoughtless words of another.

The other day I experienced another one of those low blows but from a direction I never would have expected. I was urged by a woman a few months back (with great enthusiasm mind you) to contact a particular organization that works with children; an organization with whom she had strong ties. The woman was familiar with my novels and thought I would be a perfect candidate to participate in a program this organization hosted every year. It was called "Author Day." It was a day when authors were invited to come and talk to the children to share everything with them and their parents. The authors were able to share their dreams, their motivations, their bodies of work, their history....whatever they felt led to surrender of themselves. It was a day of exploration for all involved. It was a day to give of oneself, or so I imagined such a day would be.

I remember what I was like when I was a child. I loved to read. For me, books were a place where magic existed, in all its wonder and power. Books held more appeal to me than anything else; television, movies, the mall, video games could not entice me the way the pages of a book could. A book could take you anywhere in the universe, and I took advantage of that limitless transportation every chance I got. If I had ever been granted the opportunity to meet any of the authors that I loved as a child, I probably would have died from sheer delight. So to have the opportunity to go and speak to children who obvious were being brought up in an atmosphere of book-loving was a chance I couldn't turn down.

Now here is the caveat I must share before continuing with my tale. I am very shy, so it took me almost five months after I was given the name of the organization to gather up enough nerve to look the place up online. It took me another day to get the nerve to pick up the phone and call. But I did it. I have two novels on the market. I have people from all over the world who are reading my books. I had nothing to be ashamed of. At least I didn't think I did. I dialed the number and introduced myself to the woman who answered the phone. She was very nice but wasn't the coordinator. I was forwarded to the lady-in-charge's voice mail, and I left my message. I was on cloud nine. I had really done it. I had taken the risk, and I knew in my heart it would pay off. Then I got the callback and so began the building of my mortification.

The woman who called me back was thrilled I had called her. I was a local author. How fabulous! I had two novels. How great!

We have already scheduled the author for this year's event, but we would love to have you come for the day and meet the children.

My heart was bursting at the seams. I was so excited.

Do you know such and such an author?

Um, no but I was a fast learner. I was certain I could find their work and read it before the event.

Oh....I see.

I could feel things cooling off. Not every author in the world knows every other author. We are not all related.

Well, who is your publisher?

I gave her my answer. I was published through an indie publisher and I gave her their name.

Oh.....I see.

Question after question whittled away at her 'respect' of my work. At my accomplishments as an author. I could feel the disapproval settle into her voice as she gave me the final blow.

I don't mean to disappoint you but we generally only host nationally recognized authors who have won prestigious awards like the Caldecott award. You are welcome to come and see the authors speak and share with the children what your dreams are. We will send you information. If you don't hear from us though, it is just because things have been all booked for the year.

There was the raw, bare truth. I wouldn't be hearing from them because somehow, I didn't fit into their mold of what a "real" author was. I found myself wanting to explain. I found myself wanting to defend my work. All I did was thank her in a small voice and hang up, knowing I would never hear from her again; knowing she would never hear from me. The truth is, it wouldn't have mattered what I said to her. She had already made up her mind what I was worth without ever seeing what I had written. It would probably surprise her judgmental little heart to know that some of the most popular books today started as indie published books; books that she has either applauded or criticized but would undoubtedly recognize as "legitimate" works because they were picked up by one of the big 5 publishing houses. But that fact didn't make the authors more "real" than they were when they first wrote their books. It just meant they got more exposure and more attention once they were published through those avenues.

I am not saying that I will be one of those indie authors that gets picked up in such a way, but I will tell you this. It doesn't get more "real" than what I do every day for my craft. On the weekends, I get up at 5:30 to write. If I am lucky, I can get in around 5,000+ words over the two days before I go about the rest of the many tasks the weekend holds. There have been weekends where I have been graced with over 10,000 words, but I cannot ignore the other tasks that are on my list.

I have a fulltime job as a technical writer/tester/designer for a software company, so I don't have a lot of free time during the week to write. What little time I do have left during the weekday after chores and family time, I spend in promotional and PR tasks. Twitter, Facebook, blogging, Goodreads, Website updates. The works. I am a one woman show. I don't have a team. There is just me. You tell me I am not a real author, that the work I do isn't "real", and I will have a few choice words for you that aren't polite to say in any company, mixed or otherwise. I may not have one of the big 5 publishers as my banner to wave YET, but it doesn't mean I am not the genuine article, and it doesn't give anyone the right to be cruel or unkind to me. Finish two novels that are over 120,000 words a piece, polish them, edit them, and get them ready for market and perhaps then we can talk. Until then, hold your peace because all you are is an armchair critic who has no concept of what it takes to do what I do EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE!

Some day, I will be one of those big name writers. Why? Because I refuse to give up, and I refuse to stop writing. Eventually, the agencies and publishers will get tired of seeing my name come across their desk, and they will take the time to read that first chapter of my work, because trust me, that is all it will take. And when that day comes (and it will) the people like the woman who let me know I wasn't good enough to participate in her "Author Day" event will start calling me. I just hope when that day comes, I show more compassion, humility, and grace than they ever showed me.

So why the rant? The message is simple. It is so easy to pass judgment on others; to dismiss them without a thought or a care for how it might make that other person feel. It is easy to do when you are the one with all of the power and authority in the situation, but remember. The table can turn so quickly, and you can find yourself facing the same person you spurned, asking them to help you instead of the other way around. If you can show kindness even in the letdown, please do so. That simple act may just be your salvation one day when you need it the most.

Remember the ripples in the pond. Whatever you send forth may be the very thing that returns to you a hundred fold. Make sure it is a reward worth receiving.




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Finding "Courage" In the Face of Discouragement, Fear, and Doubt

Imagine, if you will, a battlefield strewn with the blood and bodies of fallen men with two opposing armies determined to destroy each other. New recruits are pouring in with every breath to fill the ranks on each side as the casualties continue to pile up. One army is small and disorganized, filled with the inexperienced warriors who have no idea what battle is really like. The other army is fierce and disciplined, able to out maneuver, out fight, and out last their enemy. A hill separates the two warring parties, and it is merely a matter of time before their battle begins again. Warriors on both sides prepare for it in their own special way.

In the smaller army are two men - one who is terrified and sick with fear; the other who is strong and boastful, certain that suffering will come to the enemy by his hand. The order is given to their ranks to charge up over the hill to engage their enemy with the hope that the element of surprise will be their best defense. Everyone knows the casualties will be heavy but it is an action that must be taken if there is any hope of winning the battle, much less the war. The terrified soldier grabs his weapon, says a prayer and charges over the hill, running into the jaws of uncertainty and potential destruction in spite of his fears. The other soldier who had been so sure of himself now finds his boasting challenged with the reality of the battle before him. He too charges over the hill, a little less sure of his fate.

Who is the bravest of the two men? Is it the soldier who was reluctant and scared but who ran over the hill because he knew he must if his army had any hope of victory? Or is it the soldier who talked a good talk but when faced with action was hesitant to go and yet went anyway? In my mind the answer is both. Both men showed a measure of courage, even if they got there from different paths. We often hear of great warriors throughout the ages who never feared death or the battle, and charged in where angels feared to tread. We have come to equate heroism, bravery, and courage by such classical models. The fact is, courage that is untested is merely bravado. Courage does not exist because of an absence of fear. It thrives within the realm of fear and is calculated by what a person does in the face of their fears.

It is easy to be brave and courageous when everything is going well. It is very hard to be courageous when everything gets suddenly very difficult. Life is full of challenges and hardships. One rarely has to look far to see them within their own life or within the lives of people they love. It matters little what the hardship is. You can see it in the life of

• a single parent
• a person with physical or mental disabilities
• a soldier returning from a war zone trying to readjust to civilian life
• a teacher with too many students and not enough resources who pays for school supplies for their students out of their own pocket
• a family that is facing foreclosure
• a person who has lost someone they loved

The list is endless. These hardships of ours come in so many forms, and each example we face in our lives demands that we make a choice as to our response. Do we run and hide in the face of our adversity, or do we stand firm and do our best to overcome it or at least wear it out a bit? That is where courage is born or is lost, in the answer to that one simple question.

I should know....I have taken both roads at various times in my life. I won't bore you with specifics because the events matter less than the decisions I made at the time and the lessons I learned along the way. I wish I could say I always took the brave road, looked my fears straight in the eyes, and waggled my fist at them. But I would be lying if I did. There have been many times when the circumstances were too much for me. That is not to say later I didn't face the same challenge and find my victory over it, but usually the triumph came after some pretty inglorious moments on my part.

I fell down and scraped my knees a lot over the years. More than I care to admit. I chastised myself each time, making the wounds inflicted in my defeat even worse and harder to heal. I lived in fear, self-doubt, and uncertainty for a long time. It finally led to discouragement.....the death blow in any great battle. As I got older (and hopefully bit wiser), something amazing happened. I gave myself a break and a teenie, tiny bit of credit.

I wasn't perfect, but I realized I had some pretty amazing qualities and strengths that could be used to lift me out of the rut I was in and get me back on track to follow my dreams. I was smart. I kicked butt in school, and when I went back to college in my adult years, I did really well. College gave me a number of the tools I needed to face a variety of challenges that would come way later on. I also overcame my fear of failure by finding strength in something I was good at. I was likable and outgoing in school, so I pulled upon those strengths to give me the confidence to reach out to people I didn't know. This ability was a boon for a multitude of reasons, including where my writing was concerned. After all, promotion is all about getting out there and meeting people. You can't do that effectively if you are crippled with fear. I was very disciplined where work was concerned, so I used that strength to set up a writing schedule to ensure I would make consistent progress on my stories - both while going back to school and while working a full time job. I was creative, which helped give me a multitude of ideas to pull from when my writing voice went silent for whatever current project I was working on. I didn't find myself with writer's block because I gave myself the latitude to work on more than one thing at a time.

You get the idea. I went from being discouraged and feeling alone, my first book was published in June of this year and I am very close to completing the second book in the series.

I know there will be many more battles in my life; some of them I won't win, but I also won't give up if and when I do. I have come too far to turn back now. Like the one soldier, I may tremble at the idea of running over that hill and making myself vulnerable to a thousand different enemies, but I can take the leap of faith knowing it is the right direction for me to go in. I can be confident in my certainty because I found courage in my discouragement and will never look back again, unless it means I can help a fellow soldier make it over the hill too.

H.L. Stephens is the author of the Chronicles of Mister Marmee ~ The Case of Jack the Nipper. Her book is available at most fine eBook retailers.
Follower her on twitter @HL_Stephens
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