Snail Mail Query Time

OK, folks. Pimping the query was fun and informative - I learned a lot and feel my query is now stronger than before, which was the whole idea. I've revised it a bit further, but won't bore you with the additional changes. Suffice it to say, it rocks. At least I think it rocks. Professional opinions may vary.

Speaking of professional opinions, I've done a pretty good job of e-querying the agents I'm interested in. Now it's time for the ever-popular snail-mail approach. I'm so excited to be spending the next few days at my desk-top computer trudging, I mean joyfully flitting (is that even a word?) through the submissions guidelines of various agents who've decided saving trees is secondary to the unmatchable feel of paper in your hands. I can't blame them, really. I imagine reading through countless queries in your e-mail box gets old after a while (like about ten minutes) and makes you want to drink more. After all, we're writers and writing is published in books and books are made out of paper! Yeah, that's the ticket! Well, not counting Kindle, etc., but you get my point. Plus, my friend, Wendy, recently snagged herself a class-act of an agent via snail mail, and who am I to argue with success?

BTW: Hop on over to Book Roast today where they're having a fun, little St. Paddy's Day contest. Pitch your idea utilizing "luck" in 75 words or less. I drank a few green beers and threw my leprechaun's hat in the ring. Even if you don't play, you can comment on those who are stupid, I mean courageous enough, to do so. (Plus, you can always read through the pitches, laugh your ass off, and - when appropriate - refill the green beer keg.)

Enjoy your St. Patrick's Day! And, where are YOU wearing your green today?

(All I'll say is my green is part of a beautiful floral arrangement. Where those flowers are is for me to know and, if I'm LUCKY, my husband to figure out!)

Writing a Mystery is a Mystery

Head. Screwed. Back. On. Straight.
First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who helped me screw my head back on straight after my last post. Boy, was I out in left field! Followers come and go; just ask Jesus, Buddha, or David Cassidy. Why should I be any different? I'm so over it. Those who want to read the fascinating things I write are more than welcome anytime, anywhere, anyhow, and the rest of the losers out there? Not my problem. I'm so thankful the brilliant folks who "follow" (oops!) my blog reminded me.

Current Work in Progress
Writing a mystery is a mystery. In my current WIP "Murder on Twilight Circle" I'm entering new and mysterious territory. Of course, it's a mystery, so what did I expect? It's just that no one told me there would be so much more to keep track of, and by "no one" I mean my "writing angel." (see Elizabeth Gilbert's amazing take on creativity) Does he or she think I know what I'm doing? Does he or she think I'm the reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes? Well he or she is wrong. I have no idea what I'm doing, and according to my past-life hypnotist, I was never Sherlock Holmes. Cleopatra, Mary Queen of Scots, and Lady Godiva, yes, but never Sherlock Holmes. Not that that's stopping me from plowing forward and having a damn good time in the process. I'm only 10,000 words in, but it's a fun roller-coaster ride so far and I have a feeling the ride's going to get a lot wilder as it progresses.

Let me explain what I'm up against. For starters, how did Amanda die? (For those of you paying particularly close attention, you may detect a problem here. The poor girl not only died, but had her name changed from Amelia to Amanda in the process. Poor Amanda, may she rest in peace.)

What will the computer forensics show?

And, of course, who did it?

Was it the creepy guy she met on the internet?

What about Sean, the nerdy engineer who took her to Starbuck's every Monday morning for a chai tea latte with extra cinnamon?

What about her anesthesiologist-husband who slices and dices tree trunks into strange "artistic visions" as a hobby?

Speaking of trunks, what about Father Groark? What was that thing he was placing in the trunk of his car?

And, do her uppity girlfriends know something they're not telling?

So, you can see, there's a lot to juggle here and I'm only up to Chapter Five.

(Please, people, help me out!)

In other news...

I've taken the dive into the querying ocean and I'm trying to keep my head above water and salt out of my mouth (not to mention, keeping away from the "sharks" if you know what I mean.) Hopefully, one of the more astute and visionary agents I've queried will glimpse my literary genius and help me secure a six-figure publishing deal preferably before Memorial Day (I'd like to take an extended weekend someplace nice, like say Paris or Tahiti). Otherwise, remember that post I did a few days ago? Yeah, baby. I'll be hopping on board that train. Woo! Woo!