7 Things That Can Go Wrong & Generally Do

Let’s talk about querying. Because I found a great piece on querying the other day while investigating an agency with which one of my clients is in talks, Folio Literary Management.

You’ve all read this advice before (although Mr. Kleinman’s is particularly well-written). So why is it that when you send out your own meticulously-researched and -crafted queries, you always wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night immediately afterward, realizing you’ve committed one of these unpardonable sins?

Why does the universe hate you so?

1. You addressed your query to the wrong agent
   
   Spelled it correctly. Wrote it in your best cursive on the envelope (you should probably get an award for that calligraphy). Made sure they represent your genre. Then stuck the wrong letter in the wrong envelope and—voila!—mailed that sucker off.
   
   And you can’t dash down and try to get it back out of the mailbox, because you have a friend who did that once and found out (guess what?) it’s illegal. At least that’s what the cop said.
   
   Hi. I’m not Agent X. I’m Agent Y, X’s worst enemy.
   
   Just so you know, X hates you. In fact, X is spreading the word in the agent community that you have a communicable disease that travels with your queries. This means agents don’t just reject your queries. They don’t even just throw them away. They carry them into the backyard at the end of long tongs and torch them in an exorcism ceremony.
   
   I apologize on behalf of X and wish you well in your endeavors. Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!
2. You misspelled significant words
   
   Including the agent’s name, the name of the author to which you would like to be compared, and the word “representation.”
   
   Dear Writer: I’m afraid I don’t “repersant” anyone. But I bet you could get a job at Home Despot. All best.

3. You spent so many hours writing and rewriting the central paragraph about your novel it now reads like some kind of disjointed dystopian fantasy about gnomes and Humphrey Bogart
   
   Even YOU would fling this one off you like a bug.
   
   Dear Whoever-the-Heck-You-Are: Good luck and all that, but you might want to come out of your cave and have a conversation with a real human being at least once before you try to launch yourself into the field of simultaneous communication with thousands of strangers. Regards.

4. You forgot the SASE
   
   It’s okay. I wasn’t going to respond to you, anyway.
5. You claimed to have been published, not in the New York Times “Letters to the Editor Department,” but in The New Yorker
   
   Honest-to-god, it looked like the New York Times “Letters to the Editor Department” every single time you proofed it.
   
   Dear Anonymous in Albuquerque: Yeah. The New Yorker‘s never heard of you. I guess their records are pretty slip-shod. Ciao, baby.
6. You forgot to mention either the title or wordcount of your novel
   
   How did this get by you? Were you ASLEEP?
   
   Dear Yoo-hoo: It’s a fascinating idea, and it sounds like you’re capable of writing really amazing, mesmerizing prose. If you ever get around to writing that thing, you know, you should probably query someone with it.
   
   Not us.
   
7. You misspelled your own name
   
   Fortunately—this one’s salvageable. Just hie yourself on down to the courthouse and legally change it. No one will ever know.

(Also check out this excellent piece on writing a synopsis from James Scott Bell.)