The Query Itch
Scratch scratch scratch...
For about fifteen years now I’ve gone without a literary agent.
The last time I tried, which was 2019, I had a bad run in with a “mega agent” out west who also writes scripts for a certain very popular series of sci-fi films. To this day, I will never understand exactly what happened, but pretty much it ended like this: I wrote a tweet he didn’t like. And it wasn’t even a bad tweet! It was just “Hey, it looks like his big client whose work I love has a new book coming out later this year!” Which got me an all-caps TAKE THAT DOWN, and he made one of his assistants go into the office afterhours to get my number, call me, and tell me to take the tweet down. So I did. I apologized. I never heard from the agent of his company ever again.
And this was after an 11PM “I want to work with you” call from the guy about six months before and then a call from another assistant three weeks later asking me a bunch of questions…then nothing for months. Then a call out of the blue from him saying, “We’re ready to go, right? Let’s go!”
Needless to say, we did not go. Nothing went.
After that, The Butcher’s Prayer got a handful of requests but no takers. Then Murderapolis (I know, funny title, ha ha ha. But I like it and stand by it) got ZERO partial or full requests out of about one hundred queries. Is that because it’s a bad book? I’m gonna go with “No.”
So I was done. The query process takes forever and is heartbreaking far too often. I was happy to stick with indie presses, which I have for the past seven years.
When it came time to send out The Prison Nurse a couple of weeks ago, I was hoping to send it directly to a good number of indie presses, and I did. Until I ran out of those high-quality ones that take unagented subs (there are plenty of really good smaller publishers that do, but see my previous posts about wanting to remodel my bathroom with a decent advance).
Whereas I had thought more indies would move away from agented submissions in these intervening years, turns out the opposite was true. As in more moved to only agented submissions.
Look, I get it. It’s a tough business and the whole publishing world is changing. Self-publishing is gaining acceptance exponentially it seems. The midlist is disappearing (or has disappeared already), and indie presses take on the stuff the behemoth commercial presses won’t touch, but they now have more submissions and less money than ever before.
Alright. If I wanted my book in front of some other indie press or literary imprint editors, I was going to have to (gulp) query agents.
I swore I wouldn’t, but I had to swallow my pride and just get it done.
And being who I am, after spending two years on this book and wanting a bunch of editors to read it, I had to look for 1) agents accepting queries from 2) authors who write literary noir (or grit), and 3) hopefully won’t take a goddamn half-year to respond. In fact, overnight would be best, please.
Oh, and now I have to tell these agents in my query letter that the book is currently under submission to some indie publishers. I’m sure they’ll love that.
Luckily we now have more tools than ever before to search for agents [cue a very tired and faint “Yea!” from the bleachers] which reminds us of how many other writers are also looking for agents [“Ugh”].
It would be really nice to have someone excited enough about my writing to rep it to bigger publishers and squeeze some extra pocket change out of them, and then take the thing to Hollywood and make sure my bathroom remodel can afford one of those fancy Japanese toilets I keep hearing about. Yeah. That would be cool.
Oh, I am not holding my breath.
I’ve had a couple of agents before. One of them got me a good deal for the first two Lafitte novels, then got some “almosts” from larger publishers for another book, but then started his own digital publisher and asked if I’d publish with him, so in 2011 I did. He’s no longer my agent (but the man remains a friend, a mentor, and was my best editor and fiercest supporter for years).
I have no idea what’s going to happen with The Prison Nurse. I’m excited by the story, the characters, and the writing in it. I think it would make a good Netflix or Amazon Prime (or, hell, Tubi) series or film. But I’m crazy-biased being so close to it. In five years I might look back and think, “What was I doing?”
Why am I Substacking this process?
I don’t know. I guess I like tales of both impressive literary success and massive literary failure. Several of my friends and I experienced both at various times, and we live vicariously through these stories. They inspire us or serve as cautionary tales. They help temper our expectations when we’re feeling very hopeful, and remind us that you never can tell when we’re at our lowest.
So there you have it. I’m querying a couple handfuls of agents, submitting to indie publishers, and otherwise working on two new books between grading fat stacks of student essays and stories. The snow is melting and it feels like Spring in Minnesota, which we all know means a blizzard will ruin everything soon enough. But while the weather is nice, I’ll be grilling steaks tonight and enjoying a bottle of decent Paso Robles cabernet.
Here’s a photo of a custard duck from Culver’s.



May the Force be with you.
Go get ‘em, Tony!!
Oh, and I don’t understand the bad tweet? Why was that a bad thing to say?
I’ll be following with interest. And cheering you on.