@elanaroth: You know, I'm quick on query turnaround. Requested one sent on 2/23. Author already got an agent. Am I wrong to have wanted notice of offer?

With all apologizes due the writer who sparked this reaction from me (seriously, it's not just you, I'm sorry!), this kind of thing happens sometimes. I'm going through my query pile, see something I'm interested in, ask for it, and get a note back, "Sorry! I've already gotten representation."

My reaction today had a few parts. First: well, shucks. Second: How did that happen in the 2 weeks since the query came in? And third: why didn't you tell me you got an offer?

Now, I know the standard operating procedure is to notify only the agents who have partials or fulls that you got an offer. And I fully support that. There's nothing more irritating than reading something, thinking about it, and then having someone not give you the courtesy of a response before accepting another offer. Like, why did you bother?

My reasoning for supporting that rule is thusly: this is your career. If other people are considering your work, and some of them are really digging it, don't you want to be able to make the best decision? The first offer is not always the best one. 

But I guess the specific question today is, do you notify the people who only have your query letter that you've received an offer? 

Truthfully, it could go either way. I'd like to think that if you queried me at all, you are interested in my representing you. So a query that is no longer viable just says to me, "Psych! I wasn't really serious about that." Is that what you're going for? Or did you really want to see what I thought? Pulling it from me without telling me tells me I'm irrelevant. And it wastes my time when I do get to your letter.

And if anything, contacting those query-only agents will help you. One Twitterer said this actually prompted more offers on her book. How awesome is that? You're saying no for them by not giving them the heads-up. And the worst they could say if you did? No. What's to lose? Nothing.

That said, I do understand the rationale behind only contacting the people who have requested material. Those people have already expressed interest. There are also a lot of non-responder agents out there. So there's no way to know if you've already been passed over and you're just adding clutter to the inbox.

But for me, the moral of the story is I don't think there's ever any harm in being a good communicator, which in this case involves tying up loose ends. And since it's your career, I'd hope you make those kinds of communication decisions--and representation decisions--wisely. There's so much conflicting information out there (I probably just added to it) but common sense and courtesy go a long way. 

Yell at me below...

~Elana

Before I get to the winners, I want to mention that there were a few funny trends in the lies, which lead me to believe you are all constantly thinking about the follow:

1. Chuck Norris
2. JK Rowling
3. Food

Seriously!

Also, after reading the fibs, Darren and I realized we couldn't stick strictly to our first, second and third place prizes. So we changed it up just a bit. There was actually a tie for the grand-prize, and we also liked a whole lot of them for third place, so we decided to a group of honorable mentions that all get BAH stickers. More winners!

And now, without further ado...

The GRAND PRIZE winners of a signed book and a partial manuscript critique are:

• @DelilahSDawson for: "I don't make snow angels. I make snow narwhals."
• @mistyprovencher for: "I did not eat the crayons. I just smile rainbows."

SECOND PLACE of a limited edition BAH poster and a query letter critique goes to:

• @LiteraryMouse for: "Just below the Earth's crust is a thin layer of chocolate pudding. Geologists don't talk about it because they want to eat it themselves."

And a whole batch of HONORABLE MENTIONS who are getting BAH stickers:

• @Donna_Earnhardt for: "I carved the faces on Mount Rushmore...with my toothbrush."
• @KeimComley for: "My homework ate my dog."
• @KCBooks for: "I did not eat brownies for breakfast."
• @YolaRamunno for: "I don't know what I really look like because every mirror I look into shows me someone different."
• @JaneLebak for: "Actually, Wednesday will be held on Thursday this Friday."

If you are one of the winners, please email me at: elana [at] johnsonliterary [dot] com. 

Congrats to everyone! And happy release day, DOUG-DENNIS AND THE FLYAWAY FIB!

Query letters come in all shapes and sizes, most of them ill-fitting, clunky, or unhelpful. But every now and again you get a good one that has both the right shape and the right content. So I asked my client Eli Stutz, author of the forthcoming PICKLE IMPOSSIBLE, if I could use one of his letters. Now Eli actually queried me with another project first, which I read and considered, and while I was reading and considering, Eli finished a second book, which was the stronger project that we decided to move forward with. Even though we were already in touch, he wrote a second letter. And here it is:

Dear Ms. Roth,

A boy with a hidden power and the girl who was sent to stop him have 24 hours to win a pickle contest.

12-year-old Pierre La Bouche is a cornichon. That's French for 'pickle', but it also means 'good-for-nothing'. A middle child who gets straight C's, he's never been No. 1 at anything. When the family farm goes broke, grandfather Henri gives Pierre a mission: to save the farm by winning an international pickle contest.

En route to the contest, Pierre meets Aurore, the charming but less-than-truthful granddaughter of a rival farmer. She's been sent to ensnare Pierre, but after a wake up call from her conscience, she rescues him. Together, they navigate the ghostly Paris catacombs, figure out how to crash land a plane, and duel with a black-hearted villain who will stop at nothing to capture their pickles. In their most desperate hour, it is Pierre's incredible simplicity that saves the day. Always bickering but becoming friends, Pierre and Aurore discover that anything is possible, no matter how hard it may seem.

I KIDNAPPED THE PICKLE BOY is complete at 32,500 words. I'm a technical writer by day, optimistic novelist by night. Recently, I've interviewed a host of pickle makers and French natives. My own pickles are fermenting in the kitchen. I grew up in Toronto and live with my wife and children in Israel.

Thank you for your consideration. I hope to hear from you.

Kind Regards,

Eli Stutz

So let's review. At the core of this letter are 3 main paragraphs. Two of them are about the book. The last and shortest is about the author. Sure, he tosses in a little tagline, which is totally unnecessary, but it worked here, so I'll leave it alone. Let's go through each paragraph:

1. The first paragraph introduces our main character and the set-up. He uses concrete things to describe Pierre. He throws in the French flair of the book right away. And he doesn't beat around the bush to tell me what Pierre has to accomplish.
2. The second delves a little deeper into the plot. It gives me the complication that will drive the story forward--someone is out to stop Pierre. And then Eli accomplishes the most important trick here: he gives me some fun examples of what will happen in the book without summarizing the entire plot. That is key because I don't want to read the whole book in the query letter. But he gives me flavor.
3. His bio paragraph is straight to the point, not overcrowded with his whole life history, and also ties light-heartedly right back to the subject of the book. I loved that he tried fermenting his own pickles. (He later told me they weren't very good.)

Here's the kicker. The total word count on this letter is 242 words. 242! Look how much he fits into 242 words. There's plot, character, personality and quirk. From this tightly written letter I know I'm going to get a fun, zany story. Those of you who wanted 250 words just to pitch your book, take heed! Shorter is better.

(You'll notice the book also went through a title change before I sent it out to editors. I KIDNAPPED THE PICKLE BOY was a little lengthy, and without picking it up, you'd never know Aurore is actually the narrator. But Eli came up with the adorable PICKLE IMPOSSIBLE that hit the nail on the head.)

So I hope it's clear why this letter worked. It stood out in a pile with its charm and flavor. The subject of the book matches the language and style of the letter. And Eli showed me he understands the economy of language. His word choices are deliberate, which makes me confident his book will be as tightly written. 

Any questions? Leave 'em below.

So now that it's all over, I wanted to put together some thoughts and stats. Caren received 216 pitches. I received 164. I'm not doing stats for Caren's stuff, and mine are not scientific, nor to they really all add up, so just look at them as trends. Out of my 164...

• 2 - were requested as full manuscripts
• 4 - invited to query with full letter and writing sample
• 17 - were flat out categories I don't represent

Now, a loose breakdown by genre (I may have doubled up here and there):

• 66 - Fantasy/Sci-Fi (I grouped dystopian in here too) 
• 43 - Contemporary fiction
• 11 - Historical (3 of these were prehistoric!)
• 12 - Paranormal (ghosts or physics)
• 6 - Mystery of some kind
• 3 - Picture Book
• 14 - Adult books
• 15 - Couldn't tell

There were also 3 that came in after the deadline passed, where people created fresh threads because I had locked the forums. I did not read those. I thought about it, but then realized it just wasn't fair to everyone else who paid attention. I also saw a few pitches that I've definitely seen as queries before. (Yes, I do remember almost everything.) 

Here's what I learned:

1. Most people get it right (thank you!), but there are always people who can't follow instructions. Either they don't bother to read the instructions, or just can't understand the instructions. I know this is just part of the game, but it's still infinitely frustrating. I got categories I didn't ask for, and people who posted twice. Or have taken up bombarding our comments sections with "Did you pick me yet?" type notes.
2. The two biggest reasons I rejected things were the same as usual: A) it just wasn't the right fit for me personally and B) the premise was derivative in some way and just wouldn't differentiate itself at all.
3. Argue all you want, but 100 words was plenty of words, but most people need more practice in tightening and including the right information. 

I would like to elaborate on Point #3 the most. In feedback I've gotten from people here and on Twitter, I noticed that some people felt more words (like maybe 250) would have allowed for better request rates. That with more words people could fit the right information in. Caren and I asked so many "What is this about?" questions because we didn't give you enough real estate. To this I say: Bah!

This is a pitch of 100 words:

In Candor, Florida, every teen wants to be like Oscar Banks. The town-founder’s son, Oscar earns straight As, is student-body president, and is in demand for every club. But Oscar has a secret. He knows that parents bring their teens to Candor to make them perfect–-all through subliminal Messages that control them. Oscar's built a business sabotaging his father's scheme with Messages of his own, getting kids out before they're turned. Then he meets Nia, the girl he can't stand to see changed. Saving Nia means losing her forever. But keeping her in Candor, Oscar risks exposure...and more.

This one is only 87 words:

When best friends Doug-Dennis and Ben-Bobby go to the circus, something terrible happens. Doug- Dennis eats all of his friend’s popcorn, and then tells a fib (It wasn’t me!), which grows and grows (Maybe monsters ate it!), carrying Doug-Dennis away. As the lie gets bigger, Doug-Dennis flies higher, until he’s floating in a land of lies—some of them big, some small, and some just downright weird. Doug-Dennis misses his best friend, and realizes there’s only one way to come back down: by finally telling the truth.

Do you know what they do right? They use the right words. They get right to the point, don't get bogged down in subplots or too many details. And yet they have enough details to give me a framework. Plus they are well written. (And no, I actually didn't write either of them. These were the editors' versions. But I wrote equally good versions when I pitched it.)

Several people suggested that a full-page query would have been easier. But I often find that with longer formats, people find more ways to waste the space. Most people still don't know where their story is, or what information is important. And you know what? The paragraph in your query letter telling me about your book should only be this long anyway. (I can do another blog post on the preferred anatomy of a query letter if you're interested. But speak up in the comments.)

And one final thought: I do expect a direct correlation between quality of writing in pitches/queries and in the manuscripts. Even if the pitch doesn't include all the right data, it should still be well-written. In the cases where I said the writing wasn't strong enough, I had good reason not to want to see more. This is something you learn from experience.

So, in a nutshell, I still think shorter IS better, and the pitchfest showed me that people need much more practice with this. Get going. You have the examples. Go forth. 

I also would love to do some more contests and events like this in the future, but I'll definitely be tinkering the format and formula and trying some new things. So stay tuned!