Next Stop...Kick Ass Query Letter

from the archives...2 June, 2010

In print!

A small community newsletter requested a one page piece on my book and I have just today found a copy of it, in print, in the mailbox! A small accomplishment but, nonetheless, an excerpt, author photo and a whole bunch of words screaming, "Look at me!" is in circulation through this far-south part of the city. Just another small step in the progress of my writing journey. (I attached a copy below because i am just that excited.)

Up Next...onto Agency Submissions.

It is a stressful process; an endless on-line search and just when you find an agent that is *perfect* for you, there's some small print tidbit that just doesn't fit with what you or they are looking for. Then you go to bed feeling particularly deflated after putting in a day's worth of tweaking and editing your most awesome query letter which has fast become a useless bit of words tossed together on a page because Agent "A" has far different requests than Agent "B" thru "Z" for whom you began creating your Masterpiece Query in the first place.

Alas, and onto the next.

Though it's a pain in the ass, time lost, it is never time wasted. I've learned a thing or two along the way and in the end, I am forever obsessed with reading blogs, articles, and anything there is to read about the craft of writing. And I find myself, again, immersed in the best of it.

Heck. Yesterday I even came across a few glorious quotes from some well known authors and added those to the file of quotables I keep on the computer. And on a bulletin board beside the computer, taped around the desk, in frames...

(I know I'm a dweeb. And I'm okay with that.)

I have learned a few other things as well:

1. Delete those fancy sentences and thoughts. You know the ones. When you get all wordy and cocky and so proud of yourself. If you begin to envision someone on the other end of that "polished email" saying, "Wow. This writer is so creative. This is the Masterpiece Query we've been waiting for" you are likely wrong. Delete.

2. Keep it simple and short. The long winded descriptions of your personal "how I got into writing" prequel may be fun to reminisce through for you, but for an agent it is likely much like listening to your grandparents ramble on about running uphill both ways in a snowstorm. For the bazillionth time. Delete.

3. Fancy fonts only look pretty on your word processor and are probably best left for kids birthday invitations, banners to your upcoming book signing and the emails you send out to your coworkers inviting them to a Tupperware party.

I love the pretty fonts, witty sentences and often find myself giggling along with my brilliance. Until I look it over a few times, realize it is four hours into reworking the same paragraph and three hours of coffee working it's halcyon buzz through the system.

I have deleted, edited, made a few pretty posters for the upcoming kids parties (and font-ed the crap out of my favorite quote document), then deleted some more.

And all I can say is Agent "F" (because "A" thru "D" were not matches for this writer): Beware. Kick-Ass Query is in the works and will be flashing like a beacon in your in-box/mailbox/PO Box--whichever form you prefer and I am sure it will differ from the last--just begging you to reply with a, "Dear Ms. Fuselli. I have reviewed your query and am interested to hear more. Please forward your entire collection of awesomeness and we will eagerly await while brushing all others aside as nothing else will compare."

Slight over exaggeration? Likely.

...Ahem...

Absolutely.

But it will be coming.

Oh.

It will be coming.

Freeze Frame

from the archives...23 September, 2009

Zoom in or out...color or black and white...head shot or artsy...smile or look of "mystery''? So many options when choosing that perfect photo that is you, awesome writer. Yes, the very same photo to grace the back cover of every copy of your best-selling novel.

Okay, so yet another exaggeration but what I still call "positive thinking".

Truthfully, I hate taking pictures. Of other people, yes, they're fun. Of myself, well, like every woman, I can find something wrong with them all. And no, I did not actually go for a 'look of mystery', did not tip a fedora over my brow or pout Marilyn Monroe like at the camera. But I have pondered these pictures for two weeks, and can delay no longer. Now I'm at the point where I crop mere slivers from an edge and tint the color ever so slightly, and am inundated with copy upon copy of each of three simple shots, me the only one able to tell the differences. So I chose. Not by that childhood eenie meenie process of elimination, but close. More like, alright already, this'll do. First one to flash on screen.

And hopefully it passes. After all of the opinions from friends and family, which was helpful but I think the vote is still out--everyone is split between all of the same ones I am. So much for diplomatic methods. Being that I always overthink things--everything--I need to remind myself that I am self publishing. Who has the final say but 'me'? So the results are out, file sent to the publisher.

I compromised with artsy and didn't look at the camera...went somewhere between black and white and color... and zoom in? Well, sort of. Really, I could fret another two weeks and come out looking like Greta Garbo meets Minnie Mouse.

Shoulda just sent one of Indiana Jones. He wears a mean fedora.

Publishing Woes

from the archives...23 February, 2009

And so the disappointment and frustration begins on the return of a first editing evaluation. It won’t be the last, but I wonder if the first is simply just the hardest. This small selection of words today borders on the wallowing writer in me, but is nothing more than a collection and organization of my thoughts in the moment, a way to weed through and find resolution.

I thought I’d feel a pang of disappointment to read the errors and the suggested corrections from the Editorial Evaluation just returned, but I didn’t. I felt pride. I felt honored that a professional level editor finally read my book, that my characters and I took that first step. And I even look at the hurdles of making the changes, searching through the red-penned manuscript with near delight in that my book will only improve from here. I was happy to get the call, happy to see the remarks, both good and bad.

No, my disappointment comes not from the editors but from the self-publishing nightmare of finances. I had expected them but combined with a recent change in the non-writer part of life and perhaps my own naivety of this publishing world, the monsters in this nightmare begin to rear their heads.

And I feel my dreams have just slid away. I know this is momentary, but the financial burden of a book is personal. It’s mine alone and yet it affects my family. The choices now to move forward become selfish on my part which is a hard pill to swallow.

I look now at putting far more into the book than I want, or can, for the line editing alone that is required, not even counting the proofread. Here I sit, faced with shitty timing—the course of finances in the other part of my life changing as I type, our income suddenly and indefinitely taking a new road. (What a perfect example of our presently hurting economy, huh?) I can’t yet justify (if ever) that much money to foster my dream of publishing a book. In a love to money ratio, it’s worth millions. In a money to buy-the-rest-of-the-family-groceries ratio, things look a little different. Of course, this is where the self-pity comes in because I know the world has not indeed ended. ;)

So I review the options, hoping for a ray of light in all of this:

Option 1. Win the lottery.

Option 2. Pray and hope there is a sympathetic God to the realm of writers.

Option 3. Grow a money tree.

Option 4. In the least, and on a serious note, find a friend/family member/acquaintance with enough credentials, ie. an English degree (minimum), to do a line-by-line edit. I have someone. But still this will only be the basics and as far as the proofread, that’s a whole different thing, whole other cost.

Option 5. I can restructure the book as it is, according to the Editorial Rx to make changes and resubmit for a second Editing Evaluation for another lesser fee—if that doesn’t also increase in the meantime—and go from there, hopeful for much more minimal Rx from the editors which does not include as high a cost. I still face a proofread.

Option 6. Submit as is, a not so very polished book to say the least. I don’t know if I could do that but considering the upfront costs already, the stubborn me refuses to take that loss.

So here I sit with the process on hold, trying decide if I should swallow my pride and back out completely, take the already accrued financial loss and venture down other avenues of publishing as before with the bonus of a well evaluated manuscript even if not polished…

...or submit something to print that my heart knows is not well enough perfected.

Both seem impossible for me. And painful.

I guess in the end, life is simply a struggle and there are far more important worries than that of my manuscript. The best things in this world do not come easily. And once I realize that, and step out of this short-lived disappointed wallowing, I will look closely at options 1 through 6 and make one of them work. For now I’ll just start with prayer—it’s free—and hope someone is listening.

The Long Road to Publishing

from the archives...12 February 2009

I have set my writing aside long enough. It's been back burner to everything else and while most of the 'everything else' hasn't changed or simply disappeared as one could hope, I just can't keep away long before I am itching for the computer, envisioning my books in print, and hording every brief moment to write another one; yet another set of characters who will sit along with many others in the vast files of computer memory until they're allowed out, edited a thousand times over and considered by me for sending out to agencies, publishers, my own little group of editing gurus.

All time crunches of life aside, things are beginning to move forward. I don't know that I've found any extra time to dedicate to my passions of writing, but I've found I am lost without doing something of the sort. So on to self publishing. And this time, no procrastinating.

The process has indeed begun.

My nerves are raw. My fingers restless to type. I have promised myself I won't go back to the manuscript in question until I see the first round of editing, returned for my perusal. That in itself has been difficult. I itch to read it again, make those small corrections, polish it until it shines though I've lost count of how many times I've done so already. But since it's been sent through to round one, leafing through pages at this point would be fruitless, so I force myself keep it on the back burner. I know the stressful days will come in a few weeks when I do have to sit down and weed through corrections and 'nice thoughts' from the editors with their suggestions.

I suppose the 'self' portion of the self publishing process takes a bit of pressure off. Essentially, I can choose to change only what I want to change, advice from editors or not. I am in control of the final product. But there is an enormous pressure in that alone. It's all up to me. And I know this is nothing compared to what could be and will be as I continue this journey.

I anticipate the process, have been looking ahead with excitement and even look forward to the advice and 'red penning' of the editing team. I have it all mapped out; from the day I receive the book in print to the sales beginning. But I fear it just won't happen the way I have it figured. In fact, I know it won't. You just can't plan those things. But however it happens, my positive side is sticking with optimism; my writer's side is feeling the burst of an ego coming because I know it is 'just that good'. The rest of me...well, I'm on edge, hoping it's good enough, hoping it makes the cut in the real world when my book finally leaves the security of my own imagination and moves into the wide world of editors, buyers and readers...

Meantime, I'll just have to write more...

Life; A Cumbersome Cloud at Times...

from the archives...28 October, 2008

I've been "getting my manuscript ready" for what feels like eons without moving ahead, but it just seems one excuse after another holds me back. Essentially, they are only excuses, but I really do need to prioritize my life right now. And my writing, much to my distaste, has taken a back burner. My family, my health and my kids have to come first, and for that I have no hard feelings.


So what does one do when your writing is put on hold?

As a writer, you want your literary works to be your entire life. It is how you title yourself when anyone asks, 'what do you do?' or 'tell me about yourself'. At least, in the back of your mind it is: "I am Tara...Awesome Writer PhD!" even though your actual job is what comes out, followed by anything else you feel obligated to list. But we all know, it is the writer pushing to stand forward, so bold and arrogant. It is, after all, the only chance for true arrogance when the rest of you, the actual you, isn't so in-your-face at all.


A writer wants to be submerged in their thoughts, facing a monitor or the pages of a notepad at all times; you want to suck in the essence of your character's thoughts and ideas, manipulate their lives into a story--a bit like a puppeteer, I suppose. Perhaps the control-freak side of me? (I'll ponder that another time, perhaps from a couch in a fancy office.) But so many times, it is all fiction, as much as the books you write are.


If only we were all Stephen King's and Nora Roberts's. But alas, so few writers--even good and published one's--do not make a living off their creative soul. So it is onto other things and life must continue around us.


In my case, some things do not. My house suffers the worst. The dishes practically cry from the sink, 'wash me!' and the laundry, well, let's just say I don't care how high the mountain gets or if we more than occasionally live out of the dryer; at least the priorities are there for everyone else. And, sorry, last night's lasagna pan (let's be realistic; more likely three night's ago...), but you'll just have to wait for Guide camp to finish, cookie sales to settle, school trips and homework and volunteering to end, and of course, my health to resolve when it rears it's head. Not to mention my job. Remember? The one that actually pays. Even then, the writing comes next in the line of priorities, after all of that and before the housework. It's the writing I have a hard time saying "no" to.


These are just my thoughts, my rant on waiting for life to catch up with my own set schedule, which is just never going to be wide enough to engulf all I want it to. With a sigh, I set the words of creativity aside with a promise that I will return. And to my loyal fans (oh, they are 'endless') the book will get published in time.


So, in lieux of preparing my manuscript in these few spare moments, here I sit, typing frantically at a blog...(about my writing)...and not working on the writing itself. Just doesn't make sense, does it?

But the dishes are now screeching.

And I ignore them still.

A Quick Note and an Invitation to My Website

from the archives...18 September, 2008

I have deleted some of the blog pages here that included excerpts of short story entries. But they have only moved homes. I am, in my attempt to stride forward in my publishing ventures, started up a website dedicated to my writing excerpts and allowing this blog-space to remain my fuel for a soap box, where I so often find myself standing.


So here is your official invitation to the world inside my head...come and explore, Lost in the Pages!

http://www.tarafuselli.com/

Happy reading!

As I step Into the World of Publishing...

from the archives...27 May, 2008

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, mainly a result of avoiding the internet with the year of Girl Guide emails finally over, my first chance since September of not seeing 10-18 messages in the inbox, none of those related to writing.

 

Also, the time has come to self-publish so I have been a busy bee editing and polishing and perfecting a manuscript to ready for self-publishing. I have had mixed reviews on the subject. Some say it’s a waste of time and money; that I shouldn’t have to pay for my own book to get there. Others, excited to finally see one of my book’s in print.

I tend to side with the latter.

Call me crazy, maybe impatient, but I am having a hard time waiting for an agent to pick one of them up, though the submissions do continue from my end. I did come close, hearing back some positive feedback from one, hopes elevated then dashed when I received the dreaded, ‘it isn’t right for our agency’ letter.

No worse for wear, I plug away and move on to the next. In the meantime, until I can dedicate enough time to these submissions (more often than every few months) I will self-publish.

 

Just to see my name in print? Maybe. But more in hopes that it will be a stepping-stone to something bigger. My lack of writing credentials to fill up an author’s bio is evident with the one-liner of ‘mother, nurse, years of self taught writing experience’. It isn’t that bland, fired up much more, because that’s what we writer’s do, but it is bare bones under the blaze. So self-publishing may be part of my progressive work in that direction.

 

Of course, this all comes with the attached job of promoting one’s book. Ugh, the torturous thoughts. Wouldn’t it be easier if everyone just picked it up and said, ‘Wow, an instant Jane Austen’? Yes, but completely illogical. Another of my fantasy worlds. Oh, they are vast.

 

So off I go, to throw my characters lives into the hands of the public. Let’s see what they do with them, shall we?

Why Romance You Ask?

from the archives...9 February, 2008

I have ventured beyond my own expectations, begun many journeys I never thought I could through my writing. It began when I plunked myself down in front of an old hand me down computer and started to write a few notes for a short story idea I had. I didn’t know where it would go, how many pages, who the characters really were beyond demographics and one single scene that had been running through my mind. It turned into a novel sized book. The romance writing began somewhere else, somewhere a couple of years later.

My cousin read my second completed mystery novel; my second novel period-—very raw and with an inexperinced voice-—and wondered why I didn’t try writing more romance. The mystery was good, she’d said, but the very small romance line in the story came much stronger, much more easily. I think I had found my niche without even knowing it, and wouldn’t realize this until over a year later when I actually tried to do it.

I thought she was insane. I laughed at the comment. Romance? Me? Really? I’d not written, much less read, many romances in the last ten years at that point. Who does, really?...Old women, lonely single mothers, our mothers and grandmothers...come on, we’ve all scene the old Harlequin’s sitting on the bookshelf and dared to open them up, laugh, turn red and wonder to ourselves, ‘why would someone read that crap?’

There is a world out there I never knew existed, I’ll tell you that. And my mind is forever changed.

So I picked a few up. Some were smut, some written purely to see a sex scene in print, I’m sure--porno for women, my hubby calls it--and I could barely get through them. I have to say I was embarrassed for women everywhere.

Other writers, other stories, have come miles beyond the days of near-rape style sex scenes so elicit they overpowered the guts of the story. Some of them-—I can’t honestly say all because there is a load of crap in every genre of writing whether fiction or non, romance or not-—are good. Great even.

The writing has much improved, the storylines set in greater depth, sex on levels from barely mentionable to erotica. Take your pick. Fortunately for me, or so I think, I’ve always been a romantic at heart so I fit into the genre pretty well. (Just count me out of the erotica, or the religious for that matter, thank you very much).

But I didn’t stop there. I wrote two novels (‘throbbing manhoods’ and ‘heaving breasts’ gladly witheld) that were, for lack of a better expression, "romancy" and may dare to fit into the Harlequin section of the bookstore, though those have vastly expanded, too. I have written Chic-lit from a first person and witty perspective, and lingered a while on a darker side as influenced by my love for the Bronte's and classic gothic romance. I even set my head in the early 19th century for another.

When I look back to my first few books, I laugh. I laugh at the writing. But I love them. Ten novels and many short stories later, they still hold some of my favorite moments and characters. If nothing else, the feeling of finally getting down on paper some of my first thoughts and ideas, watching them develop, taking count of my growth as a writer in the meantime, drives me. I haven’t been at it long enough to call myself a "Jane Austen" or "Emily Bronte", perhaps never will, but I know I can make my way to a higher place eventually. And we get nowhere without dreaming.

All of my books say something about who I am as a person, a mother, a wife. A nurse, a writer, a woman. That’s where it counts. I love romance, am no longer afraid of it or the cliché’s and negative thoughts it brings in the eyes of many.

As Jane Austen once said, "Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery." Mine is dwelling with Jane’s.

"Far away in the sunshine are my highest inspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see the beauty, believe in them and try to follow where they may lead."

Lousia May Alcott