Hopeful Writer & the Unsolicited Manuscript (Part 2)

Our story so far: Mercia, 955 Anno Domini. Our hero, Hopeful Writer, has arrived at the SCBWI-Mercia Annual Regional Conference, in quest for the Holy Gr... wait, wrong quest... make that: in quest for the Sale of his First Novel. After a key note address (with confusing subtitles), Hopeful Writer and the other Knights of the Library Study Table (see the cast list) have discovered they have all signed up for a seminar led by that awesome individual known as (drumroll) The Agent.

Now, on to part two of... (What, you haven't read part one yet? What are you doing reading this? Wondering who I am and what this blog is for? Hie thee to the beginning!) Okay, without further ado, back to (cue dramatic music)...

Hopeful Writer & the Unsolicited Manuscript

Part 2

by Howard Shirley

SFX: Heavenly trumpet fanfare.

Cut away. Exterior shot, sky with clouds. A blazing beam of light emits from the clouds.

Cut back to the Knights of the Library Study Table, looking in stunned amazement.

HOPEFUL WRITER: It is The Agent!

EAGER ILLUSTRATOR: The Agent?!?

NUMBED FINGERS: The Agent!

SINCERELY the SUBMITTED (nervous): Maybe I should have gone to Alan’s workshop...

REPETE the REJECTED: It’s only a junior assistant.

OTHER KNIGHTS (to RR): Shhh!

HW: Oh, great and mighty agent, he who...

ASSISTANT JUNIOR AGENT'S ASSISTANT (interrupting, annoyed): She.

HW: She?

AJAA: You think I spent four years at Radcliffe to put up with being referred to by the third person masculine pronoun? It’s just another example of how the English language has been used to oppress the rights of women...

RR: Oh Lord, not another one.

AJAA: What was that?

HW: Nothing, O Lord! Uh, O Lady!

AJAA: That’s better. Now, get on with it.

HW: Right. Oh great and mighty agent, she of beautiful countenance...

AJAA: “Beautiful countenance?” What’s that got to do with anything?

HW: Nothing! Nothing at all! Merely a pleasantry!

AJAA: “Merely a pleasantry?” Are you making some sort of judgment about my appearance?

HW: NO! Never! I... I hadn’t even noticed your appearance, not that it might not be noticeable, if you wanted it to be, which I’m not saying you do or don’t and really has nothing to do with the matter at hand, after all, this being a purely professional encounter...

NF: This pitch is not going well.

AJAA: Oh, cut the crap. I hate rambling queries.

HW: Right. Uhm... so what sort of queries do you like?

SS: Oh, good one, Hopeful!

AJAA: Haven’t you read my blog?

SS: Uh oh.

NF (jumping in): Religiously! Every day!

AJAA: I update weekly.

HW: But your updates are so good that we read them over and over, just to get the full impact of your insight!

NF: And I’m a complete idiot when it comes to that http, RSS stuff.

EI: That she is!

NF: Thanks.

EI: Don’t mention it.

RR: Oh, let me handle this. (TO AJAA) I’ve read your blog and been to the agency web site, but the submission guidelines conflict with each other. I assume, naturally, that your personal preferences take precedence, but I wanted to confirm that with you personally. I also understand that the needs of your list change, so I wanted to hear from you what your were looking for now, so that I wouldn’t bother you with a query outside of your current interest.

SS: Wow.

RR: I’m used to this.

AJAA: Aren’t you the smooth one.

RR: Just experienced.

AJAA: Been dumped a lot, have you?

RR: Uh...

AJAA: Okay, I’ll take pity on you. That’s why they sent me out to this hick conference anyway. I want something new and fresh...
(The Knights pull out notepads and begin transcribing furiously.)
... but be sure and tell me how it’s similar to other best-selling books already on the market. Just don’t compare your book to anybody else’s, because that really turns me off. Start by telling me why you’re writing to me, but don’t make yourself look like an idiot by stating the obvious because I already know why you’re writing to me. The first paragraph should sell me on the book, but remember that it’s the book that counts, not the letter, though frankly, if your letter sucks I won’t take look one at the sample, so no pressure. Include some biographical information so I know your level of experience, but don’t bore me with details that have nothing to do with your book, because I really don’t care what you’ve done before, I just care about the book you’re querying me about. And include a SASE, though if you don’t hear back from me ever just assume I’ve rejected you.

RR: How many times have I heard that.

NF (sniffing): They never call.

RR: I was talking about agents.

NF: So was I.

HW: I’d like to know about your own sales record.

EI: Excellent question!

AJAA (proudly): I’ve sold to all the major houses and several minor ones. I schmooze with all the greats. You may grovel.

HW: Uh...

AJAA: I believe I mentioned groveling?

KNIGHTS: Grovel, grovel, grovel!

AJAA: That’s much better. Just so long as you realize that the best way to find a publisher is through an agent.

HW: Oh, yes, great and beaut... uh, wonderful Lady! If we may beseech thee with but one more question?

AJAA: Oh, all right. But make it snappy.

Knights look around, confused, then begin snapping their fingers.

AJAA: I meant the question, you dolts!

HW: Right! Knew that! Sorry... just got a little light headed, what with all the note taking and what not, one day conference and all...

AJAA: The question?

HW: Oh! Uhm... you said the best way to find a publisher is through an agent.

AJAA: Of course.

HW: So, what’s the best way to find an agent?

AJAA (laughs): Why, find a publisher! (Maniacal laughter as light fades and clouds cover her.)

HW: Wait! But how... dang, she’s gone.

SS: There’s never enough time at these conferences.

NF: What do we do now?

RR: Same thing we do after every conference.

EI: Try to take over the world?

RR: No, you idiot. We look for a publisher. And stop quoting Pinky and the Brain; this is a Python parody.

EI: Sorry about that, Brain.

HW (waving arm forward): On to the Publisher!

KNIGHTS: To the Publisher!

They move forward, out of the shot. Cut away.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Postscript: Do not assume that Hopeful Writer and his fellow knights always make the right choices in their efforts to secure a publisher. In fact, for the most part assume otherwise.

Postscript two: No actual agent is represented above. Any resemblance to an actual agent is completely coincidental and unintentional, though if you know a person like this, appropriate avoidance techniques might be in order.

--- Howard Shirley

Hopeful Writer & the Unsolicited Manuscript (Part 1)

So, what's it like to be a writer in the vast trackless sea of the publishing world, searching for the right house for your book? Well, sometimes it feels like this:

Hopeful Writer & the Unsolicited Manuscript

by Howard Shirley

(With apologies to Monty Python)

CAST
The Knights of the Library Study Table:
HOPEFUL WRITER (HW)
EAGER ILLUSTRATOR (EI)
NUMBED FINGERS (NF)
SINCERELY the SUBMITTED (SS)
REPETE the REJECTED (RR)
EMBARRASSED TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH THIS IDEA

Others:
THE ASSISTANT JUNIOR AGENT’S ASSISTANT (AJAA)
THE ASSISTANT ASSOCIATE EDITORIAL ASSISTANT (AAEA)
THE ASSOCIATE ASSISTANT EDITORIAL ASSOCIATE (AAEA 2)


SCENE 1:
Exterior. A fog bound plain. Indistinct shapes move about in the fog.


MUSIC: Eerie music.

TITLE: Mercia. 955 A.D. 8:55 A.M.

Two shapes bump into each other.

SHAPE 1 (HW): Oops. Sorry.

SHAPE 2 (RR): It’s okay. Is this the coffee room?

SHAPE 1: I don’t know. I was looking for the registration desk.

SHAPE 2 (gesturing vaguely): Oh, that’s over there. Better hurry; the keynote’s about to start.

SHAPE 1: Thanks! (wanders off.)

SHAPE 2: Didn’t anybody make any freakin’ coffee? What kind of conference is this?

Camera moves away, following SHAPE 1. The fog begins to clear, revealing a low table set on a barren hillside. On the table is a sign that reads: “SCBWI-Mercia Conference Registration” in gothic calligraphy.
NUMBED FINGERS sits at the table next to SINCERELY the SUBMITTED. We now see that SHAPE 1 is HOPEFUL WRITER.

HOPEFUL WRITER: Registration?

NUMBED FINGERS: You’re late. Registration is closed.

HW: That’s okay. I’m pre-registered. Hopeful Writer. That’s with a “W.”

NF (flipping through pocket folders): You’re still late.

HW: I was delayed at the airport.

NF (looking around): The airport? In Mercia?

SS (looking over): He could have taken a shuttle from Wessex.

NF: Do you have any idea how expensive that is? No writer could afford that.

SS: Yes, but the hotels sometimes offer free shuttle service.

NF: No! I had to thumb a ride with Repete the Rejected. I could have ridden in a shuttle for free?

SS: Well, it depends, of course, but...

HW: Could I have my packet, please?

NF: Sure. Whatever. (Picks up a packet and tosses it to HW.) Tell me more about this shuttle...

HW shrugs and walks off. Fade to black.

Dramatic Music.

TITLE CREDITS: The Knights of the Library Study Table proudly present:

SUBTITLE: Subtitle Missing.

SUB SUBTITLE: “Uhm... where are the subtitles?”

TITLE: Hopeful Writer and the Unsolicited Manuscript.

SUBTITLE: Still Missing.

SUB SUBTITLE: “That was Embarrassed’s job.”

TITLE: Starring

SUBTITLE: Missing, missing, missing.

SUB SUBTITLE: “You gave that job to Embarrassed?”

Fade in dramatic sepia-toned still shot of Hopeful Writer.

TITLE: Hopeful Writer

SUBTITLE: Nope. Still got nothing.

SUB SUBTITLE: “The poor woman’s swamped!”

Fade to Eager Illustrator.

TITLE: Eager Illustrator

SUBTITLE: Zilch. Nada.

SUB SUBTITLE: “ She’s got home schooling, volunteer commitments, and a three-year-old!”

Fade to Numbed Fingers.

TITLE: Numbed Fingers

SUBTITLE: Hello? Remember me? Anyone?

SUB SUBTITLE: “But she’s really good.”

Fade to Sincerely the Submitted

TITLE: Sincerely the Submitted

SUBTITLE: I’m waiting...

SUB SUBTITLE: “I thought it would be a confidence booster.”

Fade to Repete the Rejected.

TITLE: Repete the Rejected

SUBTITLE: Look, if you’re not gonna use me, why even put me up here? Geez-a-rama, can’t you get anything together? What, I’m just supposed to blah, blah, blah, till the whole screen is filled up? I could do that, but who has time to read it all? Get an editor, for the love o’ Pete!

SUB SUBTITLE: “Oh, yeah, right. ‘Embarrassed, there’s so much you have to do already that I’ve given you another assignment.”

Fade to black.

TITLE: And

SUBTITLE: Oh, just forget it.

SUB SUB TITLE: “Sorry. I meant well.”

Fade to blank space, same size as other still shots, but empty.

TITLE: Embarrassed to Be Associate with This Idea

SUBTITLE: I mean it. I’m gone.

SUB SUBTITLE:“Look, rather than redo the whole thing, let’s just end the credits and get on with the movie.”

BLACKOUT. Soundtrack comes to scratchy halt.

(Beat. Beat. Beat.)

SUB SUBTITLE: “I said, ‘get on with the movie!’”

MUSIC: Soundtrack swells up again as we go to:

SCENE: Exterior. Day. Grassy field. HOPEFUL WRITER, EAGER ILLUSTRATOR, NUMBED FINGERS, SINCERELY the SUBMITTED and REPETE the REJECTED are walking across the field together.

SS: That was the strangest keynote address I’ve ever been to.

EI: The Power Point presentation was nice.

NF: Yeah, I suppose, but what was the point of all the subtitles? They didn’t make any sense.

RR: I think it was an inside joke.

NF: Yeah, well, they could have let us in on it.

HW (looking in his packet): What does everybody else have next? I’ve got the agent.

SS: Me too.

NF: Same here.

EI: Writer’s Market says the agency reps artists too, so I signed up for it.

RR: Agent.

HW: Wait. Nobody signed up for Alan’s writer’s workshop?

ALL: (Murmurs of “no,” etc.)

NF: Oo, he’s gonna feel really bad.

RR: Naw. It’ll be just like a book signing.

ALL: (Murmurs of experienced agreement.)

TO BE CONTINUED...

Mars Day!*

In honor of the day:

A Martian from Hellas Planetia
said to Viking, "I'm sure please to meet ya!"
The probe fell on his head,
which made him turn red
and shout, "Next time, I'll just plan to eat ya!"

--- Howard Shirley

(I wrote this a few years back and posted it on the 'Net. Sometime later I ran across a reference that makes me think it found its way to NASA, but I was never certain. So if you're at NASA and wondered where this one came from, you now know to blame me.)

*Yeah, I know it's actually "Earth Day." But what about the other planets? Why is it fair for only Earth to have a day? So I'm taking the hint from a private forum I'm a member of and celebrating Mars Day.** (Sorry, I can't give a link. Forum rules.)

** Okay, so actually I don't have any limericks about Earth.

The Rescue

Out of the blackened wood he rode
into a dark grey dawn,
and thunder chased him with the wolves
over the barren lawn.
Up to the manor walls he flew,
as lightning licked his heels;
pursued by howls and thunderclaps
and the clash of distant steel.
With a splinter and crash the doors fell in,
kicked by his stallion's hooves,
and on he rode up the marble stairs,
without a look to the wolves.
The name he yelled from room to room
was drowned in the thunder’s cry,
and the savage howls of the wolves below
returned as his sole reply.

Out the window and growing near
fire raced down the road;
torches bright in the clouded light,
like gold from a demon's lode.

He leapt from his horse
to find her door, black as the night is dark.
He broke the lock with a pistol shot,
and hounds began to bark.
His sword was out, his blade was bright
with a light that filled the gloom;
His shoulder struck the blackened door;
her cry answered back from the room.
The door stood fast 'gainst all his blows,
held tight by a sorcerous spell,
and all his rage burned futilely bright
like an angel chained in Hell.
In the halls below arose the cries
of wolves and dogs and men,
of teeth and claws and musket blasts,
of death and battle's din.
Up the stairs the clatter came;
the clamor roared down the hall.
He turned away from the cries behind
as the blades began to fall.

His body lay outside the door;
The spell that held it fled.
She stepped in the glow of the morning light—
"You're rescued , lass," they said.

©2008 by Howard Shirley. All rights reserved.

--------

In case you're wondering, it's National Poetry Month. In honor of this, I thought I might offer a little something original for your enjoyment, hence the above, which has been languishing on my hard drive in various forms for several years. My goal in writing this was to capture the adventure poems I loved as a boy, which unfortunately I see very little of today. I also wanted to create a story poem that the reader could "fill in" as it were. Who is rescuing whom— and from what? Is the ending fortunate or tragic? You tell me what you see!

--- Howard Shirley

But Some Smell Just As Sweet

In my last post I wrote (okay, raved) about Rosemary Sutcliff.

Well, I've found a successor.

If you love Sutcliff (and if you don't, what's wrong with you? ;-) ), then scurry over to your library or local bookstore and ask for books by Rebecca Tingle. Her first, The Edge on the Sword is a terrific historical novel in the Sutcliff tradition. Aethelflaed is the daughter of Alfred, King of Wessex. Educated and willful, Aethelflaed loves nothing better than to sneak out to ride the horses. But she is a king's daughter, promised in marriage to secure an alliance against the Danes who have invaded northern England. When conspirators attempt to kidnap her, Aethelflaed convinces her bodyguard— a thrall sent by her future husband— to teach her how to fight for herself. Eventually, Aethelflaed finds herself not only fighting, but leading men in a desperate battle against Danish raiders intent on her capture... or failing that, her death.

Tingle's treatment of this very real young lady is remarkable both for the way in which she captures the culture of the time, and for her terrific handling of both the action and suspense of the situation. Tingle's Aethelflaed is a wonderful character, true to her time yet very modern in her appeal, both to girls and boys. The book is also beautifully written, engaging from start to finish. Rooting for Aethelflaed to win is made all the more exciting by the historical reality of her triumph. What a great role model for young women... and what a great book.

Tingle has written an excellent sequel, Far Traveler, about the adventures of another young lady of Old England... but I'll let you read it to learn more, as her fate has much to do with Aethelflaed's.

Two books is a good start. Let's hope that Tingle returns again with another tale from history. I'll certainly be looking for it!

--- Howard Shirley

A Rosemary By Any Other Name...

... would not read the same as Rosemary Sutcliff.

I first discovered Rosemary Sutcliff as a boy of 14, thanks to a recommendation by my 8th grade English teacher, Mrs. McElheny. My teacher knew of my love for King Arthur stories, and suggested I read The Lantern Bearers. I loved it. Here, for me, was something new. A book about King Arthur that had nothing to do with wizards or round tables or magic swords, but instead sprung from the shadowy history of Post-Roman Britain as the Romanized British fought a long struggle to hold back the Anglo-Saxon invaders. Here I first read of the Roman Empire's decline. I saw in the tale of Flavius how civilizations fail and fall, how cultures change or even disappear, and how that is simply the way the world works. And I met for the first time a cavalry leader named Artos, who may (or may not) have been the real King Arthur.

What a delicious, wonderful, beautiful, lyrical and exciting book. Battles. Swords. The Legions abandoning Britain. A legionnaire abandoning his duty to Rome for his duty to home. Desperate escapes. Bitter losses. Bitter anger. Useless revenge. And a war that began a legend. Forget the lousy Bruckheimer movie or the over-rated Zimmer-Bradley book. Rosemary Sutcliff's Artos will always be to me the real King Arthur.

Oddly, though I loved the book at the time, I did not read anymore Rosemary Sutcliff books for nearly twenty-five years. Then, in a game rulebook, I stumbled across a reference to her name and another title— The Eagle of the Ninth— and my memory of The Lantern Bearers came back. I promptly sought out The Eagle of the Ninth, bought it, and devoured it. That sent me to seek other books: Outcast, The Silver Branch, The Lantern Bearers, The Shining Company, The Mark of the Horse Lord, The Shield Ring, Sword Song... all of which have left me in awe of Rosemary Sutcliff's imagination, language, and gift for capturing vanished ages and filling her tales with people who are wonderfully real. And though her characters may never know each other, or even live generations apart in time, she skillfully weaves links between them— an heirloom, a trinket, or even simply a shared place, though centuries parted— like little hidden treasures for readers to discover. In the midst of real history, she gives her own creations a history as well. The result is like whispers echoing through time, a reminder that we, too, are connected with our past, and will send our own echoes down into the future.

And now for a little taste of the present. Though I have sought and read every book I could find of Sutcliff's saga of Britain, one book has remained elusively out-of-print: Sword at Sunset, Rosemary Sutcliff's treatment of the life of Artos himself and his final fate at the battle of Camlann against (or alongside?) Medraut... known to legend as Mordred. For an Arthurian fanatic like myself, it has been a Holy Grail that I despaired of finding. But no more. I just learned that Sword at Sunset has been reprinted. My quest will soon be at an end.

Take up the quest yourself and discover the treasure that is Rosemary Sutcliff. You'll enjoy every stroke of her pen.

--- Howard Shirley

Story Starter Challenge #3

So, have you written anything lately? Need a kickstart? Here's another image for you.

What's most significant about this image is that there is a person. You cannot have a story without a person.

That doesn't mean your person has to be human, or even alive. Stories have been written about rabbits, dogs, rats, trains, cars, robots and even a toy canoe. But even if you write a story about a rock, in very short order you will discover that your rock gains personality, purpose, even dreams; it becomes a person.

So, back to the image. Here we have a place, a person, and an action (running).

Who is this person? Is it a he or she? (You decide.) What is the person's name? (You decide.) How old? (You decide.)

Where is this taking place? (You decide, of course!) When?

What is the structure?

And, of course, why is the person running?

There, I've given you a start. Look back at the other story starters (#1 and #2). Maybe you can combine these ideas. (Hey, if I saw a skull hanging in the trees in a strange wood, I might have a reason to run...)

As always, there is no right or wrong choice; just the one that makes your story better.

--- Howard Shirley