Adventures in Fiction Writing! Part Eight: GRADE MY HOOKS!!

When you're attempting to have your novel traditionally published, your query letter is the most important part of your submission package. And your HOOK is the most important part of your query letter.

I know not everyone agrees with me but everyone else is full of shit and that's fine. My journey is my own, and your journey is yours. I don't have all the answers just most of them.  But I DO know this: the HOOK is the opening of your query letter, and it's how you suck potential agents and publishers into your story. 

In other words, the HOOK is how you reel 'em in. And remember, the agent or publisher you're courting will likely read 67 other query letters the day he/she reads yours, so you wanna make sure your HOOK is damn good.

And now I'm asking for your help. Before I throw my query letters out to the universe, I want to make sure I've dotted all my T's and crossed all my I's and written the hook-iest hooks possible. So I'm posting them here. Read them, love them, hate them, laugh at them, be intrigued by them. AND THEN TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OF THEM. Leave me a comment or 2 or three. Which hook is the best? The worst? WHY? 

Then find me on twitter (right here!) and tell me there, too!

Remember when I wrote that it takes an army to publish a book? (Adventures in Fiction Writing! Part 7) Well now I'm asking you to enlist. Will you be my literary soldier?

Okay! Here we go....HOOKS:

(1) All hope is never lost. Not even in Nowhere.

(2) No one in Nowhere can exist without hope, even if that hope is stolen.

(3) When children go missing, it's assumed they're Somewhere. But what if they were Nowhere?

(4) The road to Nowhere cost several lives, but saves many more.

(5) More than the contested Roy G. Biv highway separates the free citizens of Somewhere from the Lost Children of Nowhere.

(6) To save an army of Lost Children, Amarillo Saffron uncovers hidden secrets and battles real and figurative demons, armed with nothing but her unwavering hope.*

(7) The road to Nowhere means freedom for the Lost Children, death for the evil Mayor Blue, and an unceremonious end to the nefarious goings-on at the Ardor Labs corporation.*

(8) Cerulean and Amarillo Saffron are sisters separated by guilt, regret, and a nine-year-old secret. Only hope can reunite them and save the Lost Children of Nowhere.*

Got wordy there at the end, didn't I? Hmmm... Wonder what that means. Now! GRADE MY HOOKS!!!

*This hook was shortened for twitter.

Adventures in Fiction Writing! Part Seven: AMASSING YOUR LITERARY ARMY

If it takes a village to raise a child, then it must take an army to publish a book. An army of dedicated, bespectacled, grammar-correcting nerds who come out under the cover of darkness to further their nefarious literary schemes.

...I wish.
That would be cool, wouldn't it? Sword-wielding publishers? But alas, the reality is much more mundane than that. It DOES take an army of dedicated folks to publish a book, but it's an army of regular (albeit bookish) people. There are no moonlit meetings or secret codes. Publishing folk connect through query letters, conventions, and the occasional twitter pitch party (see #pitmad, #askagent, and #twitterpitch among others).

Finding and reaching out to your literary army can be daunting. It's time-consuming and more than a little bit intimidating. But there really are no shortcuts. Well, at least not for regular people. There have been a few previously self-published authors who achieved such stunning success on their own that agents literally courted them. (Amanda Hocking is one, Ania Ahlborn is another.) But they are the exception. Most of us writerly types have no choice but to roll up our sleeves, swallow what's left of our pride, and query.

If you've been following my Adventures in Fiction Writing series from the beginning, you'll already know how I feel about query writing. I'm sure many of you feel the same. But we need to get over ourselves. Literary agents are not monsters. And believe it or not, they want us to succeed just as much as we do. It's true! Our success is their success. Without writers, there could be no literary agents.


So take a deep breath and get ready for the query-go-round. Here's how I'm doing it. This is just my way. There are a million others. And I'm new at this, for all I know, my way might suck. But I'm giving it a go.

(1) Research literary agents who accept submissions in your genre.
(2) Make a list of 20-30 of those agents, noting their contact info, websites, and social media reach (especially twitter!!)
(3) If you're not already on twitter, GET ON TWITTER.
(4) Follow all agents you plan to query on twitter. 
(5) Write your query letter.
(6) Write it again.
(7) Write it some more.
(8) Show query letter to beta readers.
(9) Rewrite query letter.
(10) Begin submitting.
(11) While you wait for responses, follow all the writerly types you can find on twitter. Follow all the writerly hashtags. (#writetip, #wordmongering, #NANOWRIMO, #JUNOWRIMO, #pubtip, #AmWriting, etc, etc). You WILL NEED the moral support, and you may learn of a twitter pitch party you can take part in.

A word on twitter pitch parties.

Think of these as the cyber version of an elevator pitch. It's your opportunity to grab the attention of a bunch of literary agents with one well-crafted tweet. Think it's hard to write a 140-character hook for your book? Hell fucking yeah it is! But it's not any easier to write a query and synopsis. And how often you can pitch a whole mess of agents at the same time? These are fun, low-pressure ways to query. DO IT.

Sometimes I think I sound like the PR department for twitter. Oh, well.

Anyone out there struggling through this stage of your adventure in fiction writing? Leave me a comment and tell me how you're dealing with it!

THIS WILL HAPPEN GODDAMMIT!!

So I'm writing a novel: a YA dystopian novel.
And for the first time since I began self-pubbing short stories a couple of years ago I'm feeling like I would actually like to try to traditionally publish this one.

HAVE I LOST MY MIND?!?

I don't know. Maybe?

But I'd like to! I really feel like I've got something worthwhile going on here, you know?

But that, of course, means I have to finish the damn thing. SO I'M MAKING A DECLARATION!!

I hereby promise to you, to myself, to the NSA, and to any and all deities listening that I WILL HAVE THE FIRST DRAFT DONE BY NY 2014!!!


And here's a little taste, just for stopping by:

(The following is an excerpt from ROAD TO NOWHERE)

Cerulean met the little girl at Gruesome Point. That was where she met all the newcomers. The girl wore fuzzy pink slippers, pink bows in her hair, and a cheery nightgown that looked out of place with her gray surroundings and was all quivering lips, trembling hands, and wide, staring eyes. She looked like she had woken up to discover her nightmare was real. Which was pretty much exactly what had happened.

Meeting kids like this always made Cerulean want to cry, but she couldn't, at least not now. Now she had to put on a smile and be brave for the girl—assure her that life goes on, even in Nowhere.

She had to lie, in other words.

Cerulean smiled and approached the terrified child. “Hi,” she said in her most soothing voice, “I'm Cerulean. What's your name?”

“Where am I?” The little girl asked.

“This place doesn't really have a name,” Cerulean said. “We call it Nowhere. What can I call you?”

“I'm Indigo,” the girl said. “This place is scary. I don't want to be here. Where's my mommy?”

“Your mom's at home,” Cerulean said, knowing what question came next, and hating herself for how she was going to have to answer it.

“Can I go home?”

“I'm afraid not. At least not yet. We haven't figured out a way to leave this place.”

Indigo burst into tears. Cerulean wrapped her tiny body in a hug.

“Sshh,” she said. “You'll be OK. I'll take care of you. You can stay with my while you're here.”

Indigo just kept sobbing. “I...I want...my...mommy!”

“I'll be your mommy here,” Cerulean said. “I'll take care of you.”

She picked the distraught child up and walked toward home.

A short while later, after Cerulean's footsteps and Indigo's cries faded into the black night, Mayor Blue came prancing up the street toward Gruesome Point. He wore a pointy hat atop his head and a shirt five sizes too big that flapped around his bony frame like a sail in the wind. His skin was cracked and the yellowy-gray of old parchment and it was stretched across his skull so tight it pulled his mouth into a mean, tight-lipped grimace.

He paused at the spot where Indigo stood and bent over, examining something on the ground.

Presently he stood up and laughed. He held aloft a stoppered glass bottle. Its contents swirled and sparkled in the pale moonlight. A label on the bottle identified the substance as Tears.

“Girl's tears always taste the sweetest,” the mayor said in a voice like the rustling of leaves on a cold night.

And he skipped away into the night.

One Moment: HIEROGLYPHS

So I've been tagged by Elyana (follow her on twitter!!) in this fun writerly-type blogger game! Here's a link to the original post: Read all about the game!

The game is called ONE MOMENT, and everyone who is tagged is asked to find timey-wimey type words or phrases in their manuscripts, pick their favorite instances of such, then post that chunk of literature on their blogs!

I scoured the entirety of my memoir HIEROGLYPHS for a timey-wimey phrase. And I found my favorite instance. Read on:

Tonya was seven when I began kindergarten, and from what she told me, seven was practically old enough to take over the world. She went to school all day whereas I was home in time to catch The Monkeys and eat a bowl of tomato soup before naptime. In my class we practiced dialing our home phone numbers on a giant cardboard rotary phone. Tonya’s class did real school stuff: math and reading and shit. They even had tests that they took with Number Two Pencils!

But it was the fact that Tonya could read and write that made me burn with jealousy. My big sister was now one of the Special People. She had the secret knowledge, the answer to the puzzle. She was in the know. And she never missed an opportunity to brag.

One afternoon I sat down next to Tonya while she did her homework. She pulled out a sheet of notebook paper so I pulled out a sheet of notebook paper. She grabbed a pencil and I grabbed a pencil. Then she began copying the assigned sentences out of her textbook. I watched for a few minutes in silence. I studied the way she gripped the pencil in her fist: she held it firmly enough to control it but also with enough freedom to allow it to skip and dance across the page. A flick of her wrist sent a series of seemingly random dots and dashes spiraling across the lined paper.

It all looked so meaningless but it wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t. More importantly, Tonya knew it wasn’t because she knew what all of it meant. She was creating those hieroglyphs!

Then it hit me: I could cheat! If I could move my hand like Tonya did, I could make hieroglyphs like hers. Then it would all be clear! It’d have to be!

So I held my breath, and I began to write—haltingly at first, but with increasing confidence as my hand made its meandering way across the page. I was doing it!

Then I heard a snicker in my left ear. I turned my head and caught my older sister staring at my paper with a delighted sneer.

“That’s not writing!” She crowed. “That’s just scribbles! You think you can write words just by copying me?”

She laughed and laughed. I felt angry tears welling up behind my eyes.

“No I didn’t! I just…”

“Yes you did!” Tonya laughed some more. “You were trying to be big like me but you’re not big! You’re just a kindergarten baby!"

How Batman Totally Saved my SeaWeed

If you follow me on twitter (and if you don't you totally should! Follow me!) you've probably noticed lately that I've had some...difficulties with my current #WIP, LOCKE AND KEY.

I began this project at the beginning of the year, and I was sooooo excited about it! Since I ventured into self-publishing for the Kindle in 2011, I've published a series of short thrillers, a couple memoirs, and even a couple of short smutty pieces under the name Sasha Sparks (Follow her on twitter!) That's a huge array of literature, but LOCKE AND KEY--a young adult, lesbian, super-hero novel--is different entirely. And I was ready to stretch my writing muscles in new and exciting ways.

And I still am! But I've got to put LOCKE AND KEY down for a bit. I'm about halfway through the first draft, and I'm finding myself less and less connected to my characters, and less and less sure about where I'm going. I'm a pantser, so I'm accustomed to a certain amount of anxiety and nail-biting in my writing, but this has gone beyond predictable levels.

Here's the plan:
I'm putting LOCKE AND KEY down for now. And I'm picking up my next project. It's another novel, so I'm still going for the literary marathon, but this isn't YA, or super-hero oriented. There's no coming-of-age in this project. This is a story of a serial killer.

Literary Research

 

 



 



Meanwhile, Brandon's gonna read what I've cobbled together on LOCKE AND KEY, and give me a fair assessment. Maybe I'll go forth with both projects at that point, or maybe I'll finish the serial killer novel first. Not sure. We'll have to wait and see.

Stick around here or stalk me on twitter, and you'll be among the first to know what the outcome is!

And here! Just for you:

Batman Totally Saved My Seaweed

Still to Come!

COMING SOON TO THIS GRRRL'S BLOG!!

Next weekend I will regale you with tales of my latest Adventure in Bartending! (I'm gonna experiment with tequila!)

Next month--the second Saturday of April to be exact--I will review a fabulous novel by J. Birch, Gasher Creek!

In between, well, let's just see what happens!

REJECTED!

It's the second Saturday of the month y'all!
You know what that means: book review time!!

For the month of February I am reviewing a collection of short stories by horror author Christin Haws. It's titled Rejected: Nine Stories I Couldn't Get Published, and it's available for the Kindle and also for the Nook.

Before I even get to the stories--and I will, because I truly enjoyed them--I want to talk about the title of the collection, and the premise behind the whole endeavor. Because I think Christin Haws has produced something pretty goddamn clever here.

To be honest, when I first stumbled upon the collection, I found the title to be a little off-putting. As a self-published author, I just couldn't imagine drawing purposeful attention to the fact that one's stories had been rejected in the traditional publishing world. It seemed, I don't know, like asking for bad luck. Like walking into a room full of ladders and skipping merrily underneath each one in turn. Or like inviting all the black cats in the neighborhood over for tea. But I was intrigued, so I bought the collection for my Kindle, and there it languished for the next several months.

Then, thankfully, I dove in. The author addresses the collection's title and its origins right away, in the introduction. She explains that she has submitted each of these nine stories to various publications several times to no avail, but that she sincerely believes in them, so she decided to publish them herself. Further, she invites readers to weigh in on the stories' merit on her blog:

Give me your honest opinion. Leave a comment on the Rejected page on my blog (kikiwritesabout.com). I want to know what you think. Good, bad, and ugly. Bring it on.

It was that last sentence that really got me on board. Fuck yeah! I love ballsy people, especially ballsy women! BRING IT THE FUCK ON!

Here are the infamous nine rejected stories:

Customer Service
Bigger Than a Squirrel
Husband and Wife
Spillway
Laundry
Erin Go Bragh
Game Night
Elevator
Such a Pretty Face

Let me emphasize that these are short stories. Some, Bigger Than a Squirrel comes to mind, are hardly more than a few pages long. Perhaps the stories' brevity played a role in their fate? I simply can't know. But I can tell you that these are GOOD short stories. They stand up on their own.

Of course I have favorites. The stand-outs for me are Spillway, Game Night, and Such a Pretty Face. But there is something for every kind of horror fan here. Revenge thrillers, ghost stories, monster stories, crime dramas...it's all here, in this collection.

Did I mention that you can buy this collection for less than a dollar on both amazon and barnes and noble? What are you waiting for???

About the author

 Christin Haws can purportedly be found in a cornfield in Illinois. She tweets under the handle @Kikiwrites. She likes belly dancing. She can touch her tongue to her nose (ooh la la, boys!). She learned to read and write at the tender age of three. And she's owned 5 rats, all named after Monkees references: either songs or guest characters on the show. (I'm dying to know: was there a Sleepy Jean?)