I'm disappointed in the publishing industry. I had high hopes and they have been dashed. Over a period of many frenzied minutes I composed a query letter, researched a few literary agencies and tailored the query letter to each agency's requirements. I was meticulous. If they wanted ten pages, they got ten pages. If they wanted a synopsis, I skipped to the next one because I don't have one yet. My manuscript is hard to synopsize.
Friends can attest that I don't ask for much out of this life. In the sporting world I am a fan of the Chicago White Sox. They have one championship in my lifetime and I'm good. I do not need my team to be a paragon of excellence that is constantly ridiculed by jealous fans unfortunate enough not to love the very best. I claim no soothsaying abilities but I know two things. I know that my Tennessee Titans will never win a Super Bowl. I know my Missouri Tigers will never win a football or basketball championship. I accept that. I would revel in my sporting life's mediocrity but that would take too much effort.
When it comes to my writing, my craft, well, I expect more. I expect acknowledgment and I expect it immediately. On Sunday night I composed and sent eight query letters. I read countless, or at least six, blogs regarding the art of query letter writing. I was polite and I was exact to the specifications.
So far I have received nary a reply. I can't be a famous published author or a published yet still lacking fame author if I don't have a wall full of rejection notices. I'll take a form letter but an occasional "what were you thinking?" would be nice. Instead, nada. I was spoiled by my first query that was summarily rejected, most likely by a person three or four levels short of a real literary agent, in the span of 12 hours. Frankly, I was impressed. Sadly, I appear to be a one-hit wonder when it comes to rejections. I am the Snow of query letters.
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