Writer Wednesday—Book Submissions


Or, how to get your manuscript accepted by a book publisher.

I blog about this quite often, it seems; why? Because of the sheer number of submissions I receive, approximately three a week, on average. Now, considering that window is open twice a year for 2-3 months each time, that works out to nearly one ms sent to me each day. Maybe half of those authors actually follow the guidelines on our website.

First, yes, it really does help if you know someone—networking, ya know? That doesn’t mean your odds of a contract are better, but you’re more likely to have your ms read, at least.

Second, how you introduce yourself matters. If you send a blank email with your ms attached, it probably will go straight to the rejection file. On the flip side, if you send a long-winded into of yourself, your book, your mom, your cat, and so forth, the publisher will be bored by the third paragraph and will probably send the whole thing off to “reject.”

Third, the manuscript itself is, of course, the most important part. Numbers one and two will get you to that point quicker. Speaking for myself, I look for several things:

Good writing—this means spelling, punctuation, flow, etc.

Unique viewpoint/story.

Do I get excited or get chills or want to keep reading?

And finally, can I sell it? Is this something readers will want to buy?

Once I have positive answers to these things, I’ll look at the author and see what kind of platform he has, how easy he is to get along with—if you’ve sent me three emails re the same ms, and a few follow-ups, forget it. You seem desperate, but even more, we don’t even know each other and if this is an indication of future communication, I’m not interested. Typically, I don’t even look at that ms.

And don’t use a thesaurus to beef up that cover letter/query—I can tell. If you use three-letter words and then throw in something like “antidisestablishmentarianism” when another three-letter will suffice, I’ll know. I probably won’t look at that ms either.

Platform IS important. Do you have a website? Blog? Facebook page and other social media? If not, you better get something fast if being published and selling books is important to you. RHP is a business, like most or all publishers, and no one wants to spend a thousand dollars on a book if the author himself isn’t interested in selling a lot of books.

All of these things, combined, will increase or decrease your chance of a publishing contract. But sometimes your ms isn’t accepted for other reasons. It could be that we’ve received a glut of the same type of story, or the same genre. It could be because we think another publisher could do a better job—and in many cases, we pass your ms along to someone who might be interested.

Note: if you hear from a publisher you don’t know, such as Smoking Gun, Deadly Writes, Blank Slate, or others, it’s not a scam—just professional courtesy.

Why haven’t you heard back? Many publishers do send rejection letters. Frankly, I don’t know how they do it—no one wants to tell someone “no.” I don’t. I hate that. But I don’t have time, either, to send detailed reasons for that “no.” Usually, you won’t hear anything if your ms is rejected. I’ve mentioned this before, but if you haven’t heard anything in a few months, follow up. Once, please.

And one last thing: follow the publisher’s directions. I can’t stress this enough:

Do not submit when submissions are closed.

Do send the format, size, file type, etc. requested.

Do remember to attach whatever you’re asked to attach—I’ve had a number of those lately. “Here is my ms.” Um, where, exactly? Hey, it happens! Check spelling, too, even in the subject line of an email. Received one the other day and the subject was “fubmission.” Seriously. Once, I misspelled an agent’s name in the subject line. Oy. Someone I know misspelled his book title. Oops.

Usually, though, it gives a publisher a nice chuckle . . . But if funny is your thing, make sure it’s actually funny . . .

So, read, learn, practice, and increase your chances of acceptance. Remember, just because you want to write and you “have a story inside,” doesn’t mean it should always come out and be viewable to anyone else. Just because your mom said you should write a book, doesn’t mean anyone else wants to read it. Harsh, but true.

 

In light of all the posts on this topic, and the many questions I receive, I’m now offering a new service: Query That! Just click on the letter icon, top right on the sidebar, and copy/paste your query into the email. Be sure to put QUERY in the subject line.

Cost is $10, via PayPal.

I’ll critique and proof your query and provide one follow-up email, in case you have additional questions. Turnaround time is three days.

 

 

 

 

Prep Monday—How to Handle a Crisis


Last night, we watched The Worst Movie Ever. Kid you not. “Area 407” should be banished, erased, burned, SOMETHING.

The basic premise, annoying girl-child aside, was that a plane crashed in a government testing area. Roughly six or so people survived the crash: the annoying one (I can’t stress this enough), her sister, a fat guy who complained about everything, a US air marshal, a photo-journalist, a flight attendant, and a couple others.

Spoiler alert: they all died. Doesn’t matter—you really don’t want to watch this anyway.

So they’re sitting there in the middle of nowhere, no one has cell service (didn’t occur to them to check that for a good 30 minutes), everyone is injured (presumably, there’s a lot of blood), and guess what happened?

A lot of screaming and yelling and running around. After the flight attendant is killed by whatever-that-thing-is, they decide to all go for help. In fairness, the whatever-that-thing-is was still running around somewhere in the dark. Then the air marshal shoots at the—well, hell, it was some kind of dinosaur; spoiler alert again—and THEN announces, “It’s okay, I’m an air marshal.” With an Australian accent.

But I digress.

The point is that they were all idiots.

Let’s forget the dinosaur part for now, and the fact that they’d crashed into a government testing facility. That pretty much guaranteed they weren’t getting out alive, period. They’d seen too much.

But they could have lasted a lot longer, and without all the running around, finding abandoned cabins with sort of working radios, and finding an SUV too, which the annoying one’s sister used to accidentally run over the air marshal.

Oops, more digression.

What should they have done?

One, shut up. Oh, please, please, shut up! Now, bless her heart, the surviving flight attendant tried to get everyone to work together, but she just wasn’t up to the task. I get that. Some people aren’t. The marshal sure could have identified herself sooner—like right away. Whoever takes charge in a situation like this must 1) know what he’s doing, and 2) get control. All that racket probably drew the dinosaur—and that holds true for a lot of danger out in the middle of nowhere, dinosaur or not.

Moving on: attend to the immediate needs of the injured. Do not put a tourniquet on a scrape/cut on a whiny kid’s arm. Slap her out of her hysteria and whining. Seriously. She was about 13 or 14 and acted like an 8-year-old who’d missed a few days of Ritalin. Oy.

So, in this situation, no one was badly injured, nothing life-threatening. Next step, shelter.

They had half a plane sitting there, for crying out loud—why leave? Plane crash, black box, flare gun. Right there. Get comfortable, barricade the gaping opening, keep people busy. Next, check supplies.

Isn’t the galley usually in the back somewhere? Crew quarters, carry-ons, etc. Find water. Find some food. Hunker down and wait.

Sure, the military would have killed them later, perhaps, if they caught sight of the dinosaurs, but maybe not. At least it would have been a clean shot, instead of being ripped apart, or barfing up dinosaur eggs like the photo-journalist. Oops, my bad. Too graphic? It was pretty disgusting, for sure.

There are some situations where you might want to get the hell out of Dodge, but this wasn’t one of them. Sometimes, it’s best to stay put, especially if you know people might be looking for you.

Assess and take care of injuries, find shelter and supplies, and wait.

And watch out for mutant dinosaurs.