My love of all things nautical, not to mention all things Johnny Depp, means that the Pirates of the Caribbean movies are high on my list of favorite films. With swashbuckling and pirates, a spunky damsel, curses and treasure, plus some great one-liners, these movies are summer escapism at its best. Pick up some popcorn and a soda, and you’re all set for a few hours of fluffy entertainment. And yet, as amusing as these movies are, there’s one running joke that makes my inner-agent cringe: the repeated reference to the pirate code being “guidelines.” Apparently, in Captain Jack Sparrow’s world, guidelines are optional. In my world, however, guidelines are the rules by which we live.
Agents put out guidelines for a very straightforward reason: we want what we want. Guidelines tell writers what an agent is looking for, from the genres they represent to their preferred query format. Writers can easily eliminate agents who aren’t looking for their type of book by checking their guidelines ahead of time, saving themselves the effort and cost of submitting to an inappropriate person. They can also learn whether an agent wants a synopsis or pages, e-mail or snail mail, and how long they might take to respond. Guidelines are a gift that helps the writer along, pointing them in the right direction so they can narrow down their options and concentrate on agents interested in their type of material, and telling them what they can expect in return.
Yet writers constantly ignore submission guidelines, or fail to look for them at all. Each day I receive direct queries despite our clear instructions, paper submissions though we only read electronic, complete manuscripts that I never requested. A small percentage of all submissions fly directly in the face of our guidelines, sending the message that the writer either wants to stand out by going against our wishes (which ultimately makes them memorable, though in a negative way), or that they did not take the trouble to find out what we wanted.
Oh, what’s does it matter, you might think. How hard is it to read the occasional paper query, after all? And the truth is, it’s not hard. I can read on paper as easily as on my computer screen, and I can reply to queries just as quickly as our manuscript coordinator. My schedule might be busy, but none of these small tasks take that much time from my day. They require very little effort.
But the fact is that I generally don’t make that effort, nor do I take the time to respond to submissions that ignore our guidelines. Not because I’m being lazy or childish, but because I already know that writer does not interest me, regardless of the quality of their manuscript. Writers who don’t bother to look up submission guidelines tell me something about their work habits right from the start. If they can’t manage to find our guidelines, they might not manage to make deadlines, either. If they cannot put their best effort and attention into finding representation, will they put that effort into revisions for an editor? Or will they come up short, leaving me to make their excuses or clean up their mess?
This might seem like a harsh response, but the fact is that agents look for more than a great project when they read submissions; they look for writers with whom they can build a working relationship. We want writers who have strong skills and exciting ideas, but who also pay attention to details, turn work in on time, and take pride in their work. And let’s face it, competition is steep in this business. For every writer who doesn’t bother to do a bit of research and check out our guidelines, there are twenty-five who do. Your query is your introduction to your potential agent, so make the best possible first impression. A clean, articulate submission is vital, but so is a business-like approach. Making a point to do your homework and follow guidelines will eliminate needless distractions in your query, and allow the agent to focus their attention where you want it: on your fabulous story.
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Not harsh at all.
You reminded me that I haven’t seen the last Pirates movie. I know it opened months ago and I most likely won’t find a place that’s showing it but I’m going to try this weekend.
Well said.
Most creative writing courses teach the writer to find his or her own unique voice. However, this creates the impression in many writers’ minds that their unique voice should also govern how they speak and correspond with others. I wasted my time and the time of a number of very patient editors for many years because I didn’t understand the difference between writing the craft and writing the business. (I was an artist, dammit!)
Until I had the very good fortune a few years ago to be knocked down and sat on by a professional in the field (as in pays-his-bills-and-bought-a-house-selling-stories-and-novels). Before he let me up, he pounded it into my head that writing a story and selling a story are two completely different things which require different skills and different attitudes.
I may not be quoting him exactly, but as nearly as I can recall this life-changing lecture went something like this:
“Writers write because the can not NOT write. Somewhere on the same circuit that governs inhales and exhales and contractions of the heart is the drive to put words on paper. All well and good. Write what you love, write what you want, pour your heart and spirit into your work; write. Write as well as you can, never compromise, learn and stretch and always strive to make each story better than the last. Master your craft.
And if all you want to do is write, that is enough.
“But (and here he pulled my head up out of the dirt to be sure I could hear him clearly) if you want to sell what you write, your attitude has to change. The marketplace has no business at your keyboard, don’t think about markets while writing. But once you have written, stop treating your story like it’s some precious piece of art you might be persuaded to share. A finished story is an object, like a shoe or a chair, and if you want to sell it you do what you have to do to sell it. Whether that’s completing all the registration screens on eBay or following a market’s — or an agent’s — guidelines.”
That was about three years ago. Last year about a third of my income was from short story sales. I’m developing my skills as a novelist and will soon be at a point where I will need to engage an agent. I’ve already begun a short but growing list of agents who have represented the sort of novels I write. And you can be sure that when the time comes to make contact, I will follow their guidelines scrupulously.
Not harsh at all. Kindly explained, in fact.
And I would add, from the creative point of view, if you cannot put yourself in the shoes of an agent and imagine their needs and millieu, how good are you in developing your characters and plot?
I do understand the plight…and I am wont to follow the rules myself…but I can’t seem to write a catchy query…it is so little to go on and if your skill isn’t writing story burps, then you are out of luck – or left looking for the agent/editor with the time to read partials.
I can write (the craft), but the business side (burps and synos) eludes me, even after a half dozen classes. So…writers with chutzpa to skirt the guidelines might not be trying to defy the rules, they just know they can’t measure up in that realm. There are people who can’t write a book, but can rock a query, and those who write cardboard queries who’ll dazzle you with their manuscript. It’s a devious ambiguity.
Now, I’m in a real fix. I found a literary agency that I really want to send my query to. Their instructions simply say “Address all querys to SUBMISSIONS”. How am I supposed to personalize my query letter to an entire department? should it start “Dear Submissions” or “To whom it may concern” I really don’t like the latter but I can’t seem to think of any other way. There is a specific Agent I would like to submit to within their agency, but I do not want to go against their instructions.
Whatever should I do?!
Yasamin, if you want to submit to this agency, no doubt you know the name of at least one of the agents. Therefore, you can address the query letter to ATTN: Submissions, adress. and then, Dear Mr. Agent…. etc.
If the submission ends up getting passed on to antoher agent, they will sign their request with that name and then you can write to them…
Yasamin-
Diana beat me to it, but she’s exactly right. Just address the submission to the agent you’re most interested in having represent you.
Jenna-
Writing a stand-out query letter is an entirely different subject, I’m afraid. My advice is to try and imagine what you’d like it to say on the back cover of your book when it’s published one day, and that’s the type of thing you might want to use as the plot-summary portion of the query letter. A little bit of a tease, but still giving an idea of who the protagonist is and what the situation might be. Good luck!
Nephele
Thank you Nephele!