Nothing Is Easy

I sucked it up this week and sent out four email queries, to four hand-picked agents. One was a referral. One is an agent whose blog I read regularly. Th other two represent authors I like a lot, and whose styles aren't horribly different from mine. Then I waited.

The nice thing about e-mail queries is you usually don't have to wait too long. Delays in physical mail (The Sibling Correspondent is a letter carrier, so no derogatory "snail mail" references here) are eliminated with e-mail queries. That's why I do them first. I never have to worry about the limbo of wondering if an agent will get back to me only if they're interested, because I don't query those agents.

I heard back from one the following morning. Thanks, but she's not accepting new queries until mid-November. She didn;t say to re-submit, but she didn't say not to, either. I'll remember her if I'm still in the market then.

Today's reply was a puzzler. It was blank. The agent hit Reply, then Send. No typing intervened. What I have here is my original query e-mail, then, at the bottom, her e-mail signature block.

Cryptic, eh? Was she in so much of a hurry to get this rejection out she just skipped the "get lost" part altogether? Or was she so eager to get the full manuscript she got ahead of herself like a stammering child who just learned of something he wants so badly he can't get the words out? Or is it just sloppy work?

Most importantly, do I care enough to find out?

Truer Words Were Never Spoken

From John Scalzi's blog.

The American

I was going to spend a chunk of this beautiful morning (I'm off work, extending my Labor Day weekend) writing an insightful review of the new George Clooney film, The American. My morning blog scan shows The Outlaw Vern has beat me to it. He has everything I would have mentioned, and he's far more entertaining, so you might as well read his. (There is one mild spoiler, but he warns you well.)

One note: The Beloved Spouse agrees with him about Clooney's occupation; I disagree. He dispatches a couple of people too well just to be the armorer.

Best August Reads

August was a good month for reading.

Clockers, Richard Price. Even better than Freedomland. Price writes crime fiction that makes the crime—especially its solution—subordinate to what happens to those even peripherally involved. If you like The Wire, get thyself to a bookstore and pick up one of Price's book now. I'm going to have to read them all.

Ghosts of Belfast, Stuart Neville. The original title (The Twelve) was better, as Gerry Fegan tries to exorcise the ghosts of twelve people he killed during The Troubles in Ireland and stirs up political turmoil all the way to London. Written in a style that resembles Adrain McKinty channeling John Connolly, Neville has written a tight, perfectly paced thriller that never disappoints or takes the easy way out, deftly avoiding what Hollywood would turn into a sappy (and inappropriate) ending.

Road Dogs, Elmore Leonard. The reviews were tepid at best; maybe that's why I liked it more than I expected. Leonard combines three characters from previous books (Jack Foley from Out of Sight, Cundo Rey from LaBrava, and Dawn Navarro from Riding the Rap) into a stew with a plot that ebbs and flows not unlike Get Shorty, though not as funny. The writing doesn't have the hard bark of his early crime fiction, but his voice is like finding snuggling into a favorite pair of sweats and slippers. Even the few self-referential asides work, winks toward long-time readers.

The Night Gardener, George Pelecanos. I'm still not sure what it is about Pelecanos that I'm missing. Like Ross Macdonald, I can appreciate everything that makes him great—and he is great—but he doesn't wrap me up like McBain or Leonard or Price. I've seen him speak and read his blog and like and respect him as much as you can anyone you've never actually met. The story, characters, and dialog are top notch, and the pacing is excellent, though his characters do occasionally succumb to a political speech. Don't be deterred by my lengthy list of caveats; this is a hell of a book.

The Dreaded Synopsis

Having already accumulated a decent list of agents' names, along with their contact information and submission guidelines, it's time to actually complete the queries. Several requested a synopsis. If "query" holds a place in the minds of most writers similar to "colonoscopy" and "biopsy," for "synopsis," add "without anesthesia" to the first two options. Paring a book of (in this case) over 96,000 words into a single page requires leaving out everything that, for me, makes a book readable; dialog, the interplay between characters, the voice of the writing, and humor only begin the list. The synopsis can be no more than a quick, superficial telling of what happens. Not what characters think, who they love, or what they say. Even motivations are implied; there just isn't room to explain anything.

I used to hate doing synopses until I discovered this technique a couple of years ago. I hope someone finds it helpful.

The first thing is to make a chart of the key events in each chapter. This is only a few words; no more than a sentence. "Tom and Marty meet in Tease." "Doc and the kids at West's house." "Marian vents." I just spent a year and a half writing the book; I know the context. (This is made a lot easier if you kept what I call a "scene inventory" as you go, brief descriptions of what happens in each chapter. I outline, so the inventory is pretty much organic for me. Pantsers may have to track things as they complete each chapter.) A white board or large sheet of paper (like for a presentation on an easel) works well.

After making the notes for each chapter (this book has 64), I circle the four to six absolutely key elements that have to be included in the synopsis. "Tom kills Carol." "A body is found in a vacant." "Rollison reads Frantz's phone records." Whatever. Then I start eliminating all the scenes that don't help directly connect these elements. (This part is easier on the white board, as you can just erase what you don't need.) Main character finds a love interest that allows you to more fully flesh out his personality? It's important for making the book work, but extraneous to a synopsis. Sub-plots that don't directly relate to the main story? See ya. Never has "kill your darlings" had more relevance or poignancy.

Remember, the synopsis can't be more than a page or three long. Getting it down to one page is best, as someone will almost surely want one no longer than that. If you're going to have to reduce that far, you might as well get it right and send it to everyone. That single page has one purpose, and one purpose only: to get the agent interested enough in your story to want to read the entire manuscript. Period. She can revel in your deathless prose, witty banter and engaging characters when she reads the full. Books are sold on story; sell the story. As Marcus Sakey writes in this excellent morsel of advice, seduce her by letting her know what's going to happen, but making her wonder about exactly what transpires while she's getting there. Make her want you..

What's that? You want to see my synopsis? What, and you'll know how the book comes out? Get real. "But," you stammer indignantly, "how can I tell if the synopsis is any good?" If an agent reads it and requests a full, it was good.

I'll let you know.

Now for the Hard Work

The book is done. Now it's time to find an agent. Most writers look forward to this part about as much as they look forward to going to the dentist, or poetry readings by Glenn Beck. I understand completely.

I'm not going to pretend to tell anyone how to get an agent. I've had two, and no good idea how I landed either. One I parted amicably with. The other relationship fell apart over a misunderstanding fostered by less than optimal communication. I'll take the greater part of the blame for that; I hadn't done as much due diligence as I should have to see how our marketing visions synched (or didn't), and I was immature about a couple of things. These agents helped me immensely as a writer, and I have great respect for both of them.

What I hope to do here is to post a travelogue of sorts. I'll going to let you see how things progress for me, with names redacted to protect all concerned. I make a mistake, you'll see it. I do something right (which will probably be accidental), you'll see that, too. If anyone learns anything from all of this, it will have been worth it. A lot of people have been generous with their time and expertise with me; they don't need my help in this area, so maybe I can repay them by helping someone else, however indirectly.

The first thing you need to do is to find agents to query. Agents are everywhere. Run a search on The Google and it will seem you can't swing a dead cat without hitting one. Which are well suited for your work and personality is the catch.

The best advice I can give for finding an agent is to read people who know how to do it. Janet Reid is an agent who gives great query advice. Miss Snark, who is, alas, no longer blogging, had a blog that is well worth your time, though it has not been updated in quite a while. Recent articles by Marcus Sakey and A.C. Crispin bear looking into. The best piece of advice I can give is covered in some of these other locations, and I used it when looking for both of my agents: read the Acknowledgements section of books somewhat similar to yours to see who represents those authors. Mention why you chose them when you write. They'll appreciate the fact that you did your research.

I finished that part of the process last week, and I generated a list of about fifteen agents. A few days ago I researched all their contact information and submission guidelines. (This eliminated one from the list, as his agency was of the "you'll only hear back if we want to see more" school of agenting.) That was the easy part. Soon I'll have to actually write the queries and complete the packages.

I'll keep you posted. Cross your fingers.

The Departed

I watched The Departed last night at the behest of The Sole Heir. I remember how impressed I was coming out of the theater the first time I saw it. I've seen it three or four time since, and, frankly, it's not holding up all that well. It's still good, and I'm sure I'll watch it again. It's just that the holes are more evident every time I watch, and the things that made it special have to work a little harder to hold it together each time.

Most of what holds it together is the acting. I know a lot of people like to rip this movie because of the accents; they don't bother me so much. I lived in the Boston area for four years, and there are Boston accents and Boston accents. None of them bothered me enough to take me out of the movie. The performances in general more than made up for any accental flaws. (Yes, I made that word up.)

DiCaprio and Damon are great, playing the opposite sides of the coin. Nicholson's risky in places, but no bones are made about the fact that Frank Costello is crazy, and getting worse. The character depicted by Nicholson is definitely batshit crazy. Martin Sheen has the most troublesome accent, but the humanity he brings to Captain Queenan more than makes up for it. No one has more obvious fun acting than Alec Baldwin. Mark Wahlberg's character is awkwardly written, but he carries it off naturally. Ray Winstone was born to play in crime flicks (if you haven't seen Sexy Beast, do so), and Vera Farmiga was a revelation.

Scorsese's direction is the equivalent of an actor choosing to be a movie star instead of an actor. Everything is there, and it's dazzling in parts, but it lacks the "go to hell" character of Goodfellas and Taxi Driver. He may have entered the phase of directing Raymond Chandler warned about for writers, where one has all the techniques and nothing new to say. The overall effect is still commanding, especially on first viewing on the big screen. The seams become a little more obvious with subsequent evaluations.

Now we come to the weaknesses, and they are several. To wit (spoilers abound, so beware):

- The premise. Given the research done on these elite cops and the depth of knowledge Queenan and Dignan have on Bill Costigan, how can they not know Colin Sullivan and Frank Costello go way back. It's not like they made it a big secret; Costello did a drive-by at the Academy graduation ceremony.

- Cittizens Citizen's Trust. The misspelled envelope is the key to Costigan's uncovering Sullivan as the mole, but there's no need for it. Everyone in Costello's crew writes their vitals on pieces of paper that are places in the envelope to be delivered to Sullivan. Why does Fitz alone wtite his bank information on the outside? There's nothing there that identifies whose bank that is. The whole thing is done solely so Costigan can find it on Sullivan's desk later.

- Sullivan erasing Costigan's record. There's no way a staff sergeant is going to be able to erase such a well-protected, permanent record from this sensitive a database. I'm a senior administrator for a training tracking system of much lower sensitivity, and I couldn't do it. There's no way Sullivan can.

- The rat scurrying along the railing on a seventh floor balcony. Please.

There are some great scenes, Scorses's a master at them. Costigan ordering cranberry juice in the bar the night he meets Mr. French is a favorite. Still, for me, The Departed has shifted from a brilliant movie to a flawed connection of excellent scenes, the whole less than the sum of its parts. Well worth watching, but not Scorsese's best work.

(Due credit should be given to John McFetridge's rant during the 2008 Bouchercon. He got me thinking about some things I hadn't before, and, as is so often the case when he and I initially disagree, he was right. Bastard.)