Erin Lodes

Ugh. Like, ugggghhhhhhhh.

I’m going to bet any writer who has ever tried to go the traditional publishing route is nodding their head at this right now. Because, ugh. Queries. A synopsis. Like, just, ugh.

John (my writing coach), could see that feeling written all over my face when we first got to the point of talking about creating and polishing query letters and a synopsis. And it was awesome that we were talking about these things because it meant my book was DONE (or close to done), but I certainly did not want to do these things.

Very bluntly, as is his way, John asked me why I had that reaction. I’d just written and revised an entire book after all, why would a few pages seem so daunting a task?

So I thought about it. And, honestly, it had never occurred to me that there was a different reaction to have. Twitter is rife with writers complaining about writing query letters and the dreaded synopsis. Like, I just spent however long telling this story that is hundreds of pages long and you want me to distill it to a few paragraphs? How dare you. How. Dare. You.

I mean, obviously, I get it. How else are agents and eventually editors going to know if they would like your book or not? Ain’t no agent or editor got the time to read all the books people want to send them. So I get the logical-ness of it. But still, I dreaded doing these things. I dreaded them so much.

And, because John is never satisfied with a snarky “just because I do” for an answer, I thought harder. And found a different answer.

It is, as so many other things are, a problem of confidence. In order to create this book, I had to believe I was telling a story other people would want to read, telling a story other people would enjoy or get something out of. That takes a lot of confidence. Or lying to yourself. Or, in my case, a combination of the two.

Now, what is different about writing a few paragraphs designed to hook an agent or summarizing the book in a five-page synopsis that made me hesitate after I’d already written the whole book? The idea that this was it. This was all I had. A few paragraphs to convince them I’d written a good story. Not a whole book. Just a few paragraphs. Upon which depend so fucking much.

What if I did the query wrong and an agent who would have loved my book had they read it decided it wasn’t something they wanted to read? Because I’d fucked up. I’d written the wrong thing. Highlighted the wrong thing, written a shitty sentence, somehow not conveyed the amazing-ness of my story in a way that was amazing.

That’s what my hesitation was. The sinking feeling of dread in my stomach at the thought of writing a query or synopsis. It was the voice in my head saying What if I fuck it up and lose my chance to get my story out into the world?

Then, of course, there’s the other thing that stupid voice says. That every word of the book is shit anyway so why would you be able to talk about it like it’s awesome? You’re a shit liar. What you think is cool about the book is something no one else will think is cool. That big reveal you worked so hard on? No one will find that surprising. That other reveal? That won’t break anyone’s heart. That piece of writing that is your soul isn’t good, it’s shit. No one else will be able to relate to it. No one else will find a friend in the dark by reading the emotions you ripped from yourself to put onto a page. It won’t change anyone’s life. No one else will even like it.

But, I want the book published. So I had to do it. And, with John’s help, I did. (Let me tell you, without him breaking down what should be in each thing the way he did, I would have found it much harder.) I pushed past that holy-shit-everything-depends-on-these-words feeling.

I wrote a query that would make me want to read the book, highlighting things I loved about the book, because, in the end, that’s all I can do. I revised it with John until we thought it was good. I wrote a synopsis and then I fixed it — because John (rightly) said I had been super lazy when I wrote the first draft — and then I was ready to start querying agents.

And the voice in my head still hasn’t gone away. But I’m doing the thing now. So it can just go suck a lemon. And no, I get the tequila, the voice only gets the lemon.

How I Published My Novel is going to be an ongoing blog series detailing how I get this freaking thing published. I know, I know, you could probably tell that from the title… I’ve gotten to this point (and am still getting help from) the amazing John Adamus, who is my writing coach.

If you haven’t already, check out Part One of How I Finished My Novel, and start from the beginning of this story.