This Is (Probably) the Hardest Thing I've Ever Done
—This Is (Probably) the Hardest Thing I've Ever Done—
Querying. It may sound like like a first-world problem (my therapist told me not to refer to it this way), but it’s my problem, and that’s okay. I’ve worked hard to have this problem. It’s a voluntary problem, but a problem nonetheless.
Okay, but querying… Querying a novel is not a problem, it’s a challenge. A challenge I hope to overcome. It’s not like becoming a lawyer or a doctor or a teacher. At least in those endeavors there’s a tacit guarantee of success, so long as you study and pass exams and put in the time and pay the $$ to do so. I’ve discussed the querying process in some respect in previous posts, but it’s worth revisiting—if only to emphasize the sheer soul-sucking, emotionally incapacitating, downright difficult nature of the beast. I repeat myself: It’s voluntary, this masochistic literary ritual, but it’s necessary in order to become a traditionally published author. Thus, I must endure.
I’m not asking for sympathy, nor do I wish the query process was easier, as it helps to maintain the quality of published works; it also makes the hopeful achievement that much more thrilling. No. I’m telling you, you, reader who desires to become a traditionally published author, to prepare yourself. Prepare yourself for, at a minimum, the following (and this is after you’ve written and edited innumerable times your literary masterpiece):
Hours of writing a query letter — and revising and revising and revising.
Hours of writing a synopsis for your novel (harder than writing the book itself, ask around)
Hours of researching:
The query process
Agents who represent your genre and the agencies they represent
Rejection. Lots and lots and lots of rejection. It only gets harder the more rejections you receive. And not personalized rejections, just “sorry, not for me” rejections.
Waiting. Lots of waiting. Like months of waiting—only to hear an emotionless rejection, most of the time.
No Response — more common than you might think. These ones might hurt the most. I didn’t get a response from one of my full MS request submissions.
Banging your head against the wall, or your palm, or the couch, or your cat. Some days you feel more hopeless than others and you want to give up. If you have the stamina, keep at it.
Self-doubt. You’ve got an amazing, time-worn, thrice-edited novel and nobody is biting. You begin to doubt the quality of your work and of your story. You think, is my book a hot pile of shit? It might be. Hopefully not.
Lack of motivation and/or direction. It’s very difficult to stay positive and know what to do and where to turn to and what more do I need to research? and work on your other creative endeavors when all you get is rejection notices.
Hopelessness. No explication required.
If this doesn’t convince you of the query journey’s malicious intent, that’s okay, Just don’t try it; don’t dig yourself into the query trenches. Or try it and prove me wrong idk, it’s your life.
Yet, despite all this, I, yes me, Taylor, your ever-faithful literary surrogate, press on. I enter willingly the query trenches with hopes to dig myself out, sign an agent, and share my stories with the world. It’s grueling, mind-numbing, a marathon through a Los Angeles sewer after Taco Bell night.
It’s, quite simply, the hardest thing I’ve (probably) ever done.
But, in the words of Samwise Gamgee, “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you [through the query trenches and all the way to publication].”
K. That’s it for now. More later.
-Taylor
P.S. I’m literally receiving another rejection notice as I write this. *sigh*
TJH -- 07.08.2024