August 26, 2008
by  Chuck Sambuchino
Before you dive in, check out these essential tips on submitting your work to an agent.

1. If you write across categories (let’s say you write both picture books and adult fantasy), look for an agent who handles everything you write. She might just be your perfect fit.

2. Mass mailing (or e-mailing) agents without considering each one’s specialties is a waste of time and postage. Not every agent listed here will be a good fit for you. In fact, the fewer true matches you find, the more you’ve done your research. Agents love when you query them individually and provide a reason, such as, “Because you represented such-and-such book, I think you’d be a great agent for my work.”

3. Make sure your work is edited, revised and polished. Rewriting is a crucial step to bettering your work, so be sure to have trusted peers give you an honest critique, or consider seeking a professional freelance editor to evaluate it. And never query an agent for a novel until the work is complete.

4. Single-space your query letter, and keep it to one page. Double-space your manuscript and synopsis.

5. If you lack a good opening for your query letter, just give the facts. A simple yet effective opening line would be, “I am seeking literary representation for my 75,000-word completed thriller, titled Dead Cat Bounce.” In one sentence, you can tell the agent the length, genre, whether it’s complete and the title. After that, follow with the pitch and a little biographical information.

6. Follow submission directions (found at writersdigest.com) to a T. If an agent requests “no attachments,” your query will likely be deleted should it arrive with an attachment. If they say “query first,” do just that. If they reply to your query and ask for an exclusive read of your manuscript for four weeks, make sure you give them that exclusive look. 

7. If you have an automatic spam filter, turn it off. If you’re lucky enough to garner a reply from an agent interested in your work, the last thing they want to deal with is a spam filter requiring them to prove their existence.

8. Remember that publishing is a business and there’s much to learn. If you’ve finished a novel, make sure you know how to construct a good synopsis. If you’re pitching nonfiction, you’ll likely be asked to submit a full proposal detailing the book and how you intend to sell it. If you don’t know everything that goes into a book proposal, now’s the time to learn.

9. Realize that these listings are an excellent start, but there’s still work to be done. Research the agent’s website to confirm that he is indeed still seeking “electronic queries for romance novels,” etc. Also, remember the frustratingly sad reality that the publishing industry is constantly in flux. Agents quit; they switch agencies; they suddenly stop representing fiction and move completely to nonfiction. The best way to deal with this is to cast a wide net.

10. Be persistent. Every famous author has a story about how many agents rejected their work before they made a connection. Work hard, work smart and don’t give up.

http://writersdigest.com/article/10-submission-tips-for-querying-an-agent/

I’ve worked in this study for 21 years. It used to be decorated in muted greys and neutrals, office-style. Then, a few years ago, I rebelled against this and put in the bird wallpaper and the heavy, red and gold fringed curtains and the straw-coloured carpet, and I still feel ridiculously pleased with these changes. My whole house is full of bright colours.

The computer desk is an ugly, ancient thing – but I don’t suppose I’ll ever replace it. I’ve written 13 books on it. And I’m the kind of person who can feel sentimental affection for a teak plank. The illuminated globe on the desk helps me remember what a small place Britain is in the vast, teeming world. Richard (Holmes) gave me the globe in 1992, on the first Easter weekend we spent together, and near it is a photograph of him I took on Paxos that same year. Living with Richard is a joy that I shall never take for granted.

On my other desk, where I read and make notes before transferring a piece of work to the computer, is a photograph of my daughter, Eleanor, taken seconds after my son-in-law proposed to her in a horse-drawn carriage in New York City. She’s wearing a Russian hat and crying tears of rapture, and this picture gladdens my heart whenever I look at it.

Often, I lift my head from the work in hand and gaze out at the garden. All writers spend great drifts of time staring into space – a habit not tolerated easily by those who aren’t writers – and my green space falls away towards a dark shrubbery and a phenomenal Scots pine tree, which was probably a sapling when Charles II was on the throne. To the right of the window are two significant photographs: of Angus Wilson, my long-lost mentor, hoeing his garden in Suffolk; and of my grandmother, holding a baby on her knee. The baby is my mother, whom she never truly loved. I keep this picture before my eyes in case I should ever forget what a bitter and corrosive thing lovelessness can be.

Source: guardian.co.uk