I say this as if it’s exciting. The truth of the matter is, it’s not.
Not even close.
I hate querying, though slowly, but surely, I’m becoming better at it.
At least, husband no longer has to hit send for me. It’s a step in the right direction.
I’m not even sure what it is about querying I hate so much. The few rejections I’ve gotten have been very kind overall, and I’m not devastated afterward (though an “I think you’re the most brilliant thing ever!” would be nice. Unlikely, but nice). So it’s not necessarily the fear of rejection driving this antipathy for querying. Or maybe it is. Maybe I’m terrified of the one scathing rejection that I haven’t even gotten (yet). Maybe I’m afraid that every literary agent in New York (and the world) is gathered in some dark “Agents Only” bathroom whispering about how wretched my writing is, like some clique of high school age “mean girls,” which, honestly, is less likely than an editor offering me a million dollars without my having to do anything but post a blog.
After all, the agents I’ve met have all been perfectly professional. So far, I’ve yet to meet a “mean girl.” I’m sure they’re out there (because really, aren’t mean girls/guys everywhere?), but I haven’t met them.
I’ll never get this thing published if I don’t query. As much as I like to fantasize about it, some editor is not going to come to me and offer me scads of money because I posted a blog. So I have to query, I have to wait for responses, and then I have to scramble when I actually get a request. And it has happened… not all the responses have been negative. Which is why it confounds me that I hate this process so much. It seems like so much to do: blog, website, book, the querying and researching agents and editors and publishing houses, the endless checking of emails.
I want to write.
But that’s not the only thing I want–I want to be published too.
So it’s back to the queries…