Querying My Novel

Cotswolds Bliss 9" x 12" pastel painting, Lyn Goodpaster artist

Creativity.

We all have it, some more than others, but it's there in everyone.

Creating brings joy. To make something out of a thought, an idea, and express it in some manner for others to enjoy ... what an incredible feeling!

Think back to the last time someone complimented you on something, and you were able to say, "I made that." or "I painted that." or "I wrote that." Can you feel it now, that sense of accomplishment, that validation of talent?

I love to paint and write, sometimes at the same time. While lost in painting, I'll think about the current novel I'm working on, or come up with ideas for my next novel, or work out a scene that's stymied me.

Which brings me to this post and its title: Querying My Novel.

When an author believes she has written and rewritten and edited and polished a novel to utter completion (which is a fallacy, because an agent or editor will always suggest improvements), and said author would like to publish traditionally, then the process of querying literary agents begins.

So not only must your novel shine, but so should the query letter, because an author wants to strongly entice the agent to read the novel. Then the first five, ten, or fifty pages attached with the query must be perfect enough for the agent to want to read more and request it from the author. This request will either be for a partial or full manuscript.

But before you can begin to query literary agents, you must research to find the agents who are actually interested in the genre you've written, and make sure they're open to queries at the time said author is ready to query.

Whew!

Good Morning, Nauvoo 22" x 30" watercolor painting, Lyn Goodpaster artist

Why am I telling you all this? As of two weeks ago, I began querying my novel to various literary agents. I haven't heard back from anyone yet, which can be interpreted as good or bad. 

Good, because they haven't reached it yet in their overflowing queue of hundreds of other authors also querying, or maybe they're considering asking to see more. 

Or Bad, because they don't have time to even send a rejection form letter, so my query and hopes of representation with that agent are shoved aside without my knowledge, except when they say, "If you've heard nothing from me at the end of four weeks, consider it a pass."

Creativity. You put your heart and soul into it, and instead of compliments, you're passed over along with the rest of the slush pile. Or they love what you've created and big things start to happen. Seriously, it can go either way.

For now, while my creation waits inside the email in-boxes of various literary agents, I'll get back to more creating. Either painting or writing.

Because it's the act of creating that feeds my soul. I hope yours has been fed by viewing my artwork here. 

If not, seek what feeds your soul. Go create. And do it with a rescue dog on your lap. If no one else loves your creations, at least you know your dog loves you no matter what.

Paco, Chihuahua Miniature Pinscher mix

Just Around The Bend

All week I've felt unsettled. The most unsettling part is, I have no reason why. Then I realized, there is no one reason. It's a conglomeration of reasons, all trying to fight their way to the forefront, vying for my attention -- completing a homework assignment for an online course, sketching out ideas and determining my protagonist's emotional journey for my second novel (a sequel to the first), working on two pastel paintings up on their easels and waiting ... You get the idea.

I don't dread doing any of these things. It's that my mind doesn't want to cooperate to focus on any one thing. But when I break that down further, I know underneath this mind scatter lies fear.

Fear that I won't complete my assignment in the right way, or give the right answers. Fear that I'll take off in the wrong direction for my next novel, waste time, and end up writing umpteen drafts until I get it right. Fear that I'll ruin the paintings by overworking them, or using the wrong colors, or ... or ...

So the basic fear behind my paralysis is that I'll do something wrong. Don't many of us carry that fear? We don't act because we're so afraid that whatever we do will be the wrong thing?

Oh, but what if we do the right thing?

What if I jump into my assignment with renewed passion for why I signed up for the course in the first place, and find that I learn what I'm supposed to and gain knowledge I previously lacked?

What if I start writing, the characters open themselves up to me, and I can't pound away on the keyboard quickly enough to get it all down?

And just what if ... I stand in front of only one of those easels and don't even think about producing a masterpiece, the likes of which I see daily in my Facebook newsfeed from master pastellists? What if I stand in front of that easel and have fun? Experiment? Remember what I've learned online, or in a recent course, or what I've read, and apply those principles? Then accept that if I don't achieve the desired result, it was only paper and pigment to begin with. No big deal. I have more paper and pigment.

Just ask my husband.

The thing is, I can begin again. I can travel that road you see above, even though there's a curve and it's foggy and I might have to slow down a bit. Maybe along the way, I can enjoy the beauty of the road. And the trees. And the mist softening all the hard edges to create its own mysterious beauty.

Maybe I can forgive myself for not being so perfect and simply enjoy the journey. Maybe ... if I stop worrying about all the wrong that might await, I'll find the right. The right for me.

Maybe I'll find something wonderful just around the bend.