Advice

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Every once in a while, I talk to a writer who is still represented by a literary agent. They are not happy in their relationship, so they are seeing, first, who else is out there, and, second, if there is potential interest in their work. Writers have approached me at conferences with this particular situation, and I occasionally get queries that outline a similar conundrum.

After just such a query this past week, it dawned on me that I’d never addressed this on the blog. First of all, this isn’t in reference to any particular writer who I’ve counseled on this issue (you know who you are). And it’s not a specific response to that one query. But here, for the record, is what I always tell writers who are struggling with what turns out to be a bad writer/agent relationship:

It is considered unethical by many agents to seek other representation while still in a relationship with your current agent. It’s like looking for a new romantic partner while still dating or married to your current one. I know there’s fear at the front of your mind that you won’t find someone new if you cut ties with your dysfunctional agent relationship and go out on “the dating scene” all over again, so you’re testing the waters. Still, this behavior is frowned upon. It is only considered correct to query after you’ve severed your existing representation relationship

There’s another option for writers who feel like they’re not getting their needs met by their agent: communicate. If you’re feeling bad, be honest in an email or phone call. Some of the time, an agent will not know that you have these issues festering. Writers are often intimidated to talk to their own agents, or they don’t want to be seen as “high-maintenance,” so they keep their problems to themselves and suffer in silence. Where’s the point in that? Tell your agent what you’re not getting and what you need to be getting in order for the relationship to function.

In some cases, the agent will say, “Wow! I never knew you felt that way. Here’s what we can do to make things better.” In other cases, the agent might be feeling their enthusiasm wane as well (this is not said to make you paranoid, but it does indeed happen in the business) and will either be honest with you about the poor fit of the relationship, or they will keep doing whatever dysfunctional behavior in order to avoid confrontation (we can be like writers in this regard). If your issue is that your agent isn’t being responsive, for example, they can own up to the past and set a better course for the future…or they can continue ignoring you.

If it’s the latter, or if they vow to change but don’t follow through, you are probably better off elsewhere. It’s scary, I know, but the situation isn’t likely to improve. If you’ve done your due diligence and voiced your concern and it’s still not getting resolved, I’m afraid you have your answer, unless there is a real reason on the agent’s side that is temporarily impacting their job performance (illness, etc.).

As daunting as it is to face the idea of being unrepresented again, to consider queries and conferences and rejection after you thought you were done with all that, you need a better fit for you, and making an agent change is a proactive thing you can do for your career. This move happens all the time.

But don’t query or court agents before you either try to fix your current relationship or leave it. It reflects poorly on you (even if we sign you, we will always wonder…are they querying others behind our backs?), and the agent you contact might, if they end up offering representation, get a reputation as a “poacher,” someone who steals clients from other agents.

As for me, I often find myself counseling writers who are in this situation, but I have to draw the line before looking at any material. My verdict is: no walking papers, no query. For our sake, for your agent’s sake, and for your own, make sure your dealings are all above board. As with any relationship, you don’t want to blur those lines.

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Giving It All Away

Today’s post is inspired by a question from reader J.P.:

I’ve assumed that it’s okay to have “spoilers” in the plot summary of my query letter. Am I wrong? My book is a mystery. Do agents like to have mystery books’ punch lines revealed before they read the book, or do they like to find out the answer for themselves? Should I put the answer to my mystery manuscript into my query?

This is a very common query question.

It’s totally fine to spoil the plot in your query or your synopsis. Sometimes a query won’t deal with the entire plot and you can save your revelations for a synopsis (if requested or if sending one). But, either way, reveal your twists and turns. Withholding exciting plot points isn’t going to make the agent or editor crave to read it and find out…we most often don’t have the time to read every single manuscript through to its conclusion, no matter how delicious the mystery pitched to us in the query.

There’s a big bonus to showcasing your mystery in the query or synopsis. If you indeed have some show-stopping plot twists, I want to know about them as soon as possible. True surprise is one of the most desirable emotions that you can make your readers feel. If your novel is packed with surprises, if the mystery is unpredictable and twisty, give us a sense of that, tell us exactly what happens, and I will be that much more eager to read the manuscript.

Some writers think they have an amazing and unique idea (and some genuinely do) and therefore they don’t want to spoil it all in a query, but every idea is about execution. No matter how great your plot, I still need to see it come together. So revealing plot points isn’t the end of the world…it will at least give me a teaser of the book itself.

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Submission Formatting

This question about email formatting comes from Helen:

My question concerns e-mail submissions. When an editor, publisher or agent requests e-mail submissions with the manuscript cut and pasted into the body of the e-mail, Is there a way to keep the proper submission format? I have experimented with techniques and looked in help, but have not found a way to keep the formatting once I hit the send button.

It is almost fruitless to stress about formatting. No matter what you do on your end, the editor or agent’s email client might just tinker with things on the receiving side. (If that isn’t enough to keep you up at night!) Do the best you can and remember the universal truth: we’ve most likely seen much, much worse.

There’s a lot of anxiety about query letters and typos and formatting (like, a LOT of anxiety). Those are important and you should pay careful attention to what you’re doing, but, in the grand scheme of things, the writing is the star of any submission package and that’s what I’m paying the most attention to. If you’re looking to burn off some nervous energy, worry about the manuscript. It’s of paramount importance and the rest of this stuff slides like water off a duck’s back after we start reading. Just do your best with query, personalization, and formatting.

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Almost every time I dip into slush, I find a query (or a dozen) that mistakes my name. I’ve gotten:

  • Dear Editor
  • Dear Agent
  • Dear Andrea Brown
  • Mr. Kole
  • Ms./Mrs. Cole
  • Marry

There are also those people who spell is “Querry” or “Quary” or “Quarry.” (I don’t think I’ve ever gotten “Kwerie” or anything similar, unfortunately.)

Point is, this is a common mistake. What’s also common, though, is emailing immediately in a panic and apologizing for the mistake. Those emails are almost always panicked in tone. A recent writer even went so far as to say “I am beside myself.” (I know you are reading this and, for goodness’ sake, please don’t email me with an apology for the apology!)

Guys.

I’m not going to reject you outright for misspelling my name. My name is an uncommon spelling of a more common last name. In fact, it’s that way intentionally and I like it. So I know it’s not “Smith.” And even people named “Smith” probably get their names misspelled all the time. These things happen.

If there’s one thing I hope you’ve taken away from my blog and my speaking engagements at conferences is that queries aren’t the end of the world. They’re a cover letter. If done right, they will make me more excited to read your sample. If done wrong, or if they contain a silly mistake, they will not end in your demise. I will always read your sample. And I’ve never offered a writer representation for their query-writing skills.

Please don’t freak out to such a degree that you feel compelled to send these frantic apologies. (To the writer whose apology I quoted: You aren’t the first this week, let alone today, to do so, so please don’t worry about it.) It’s okay. It’s all okay. Query mistakes and misspellings happen. I usually gloss over them and keep reading. The apology emails, if anything, just draw more attention to the original typo. I know that most writers do a careful job of researching agents and putting queries together. Errors happen. If that’s the worst thing to happen to you, I’d count yourself lucky.

There is never any need for panic or such deep regret when it comes to queries. Relax and tell us about your story. You’re the expert in it, after all!

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It has been a while since I’ve blogged about different kinds of responses to rejections (they’ll mostly pop up after this post in the Related Posts section). But I have a lot of new readers, and they may not have gone through my archives. So, for them, and for the world, I want to drive home a point that I first introduced in this post:

Don’t serial query.

When I pass on your work, I’m saying: this isn’t ready yet. You probably wrote that project during the current phase of your development as a writer. I’m saying you need to get to the next phase of your development, and possibly the phase after that, or the phase after that phase, before you’re ready.

So don’t send me something else, immediately, from the same phase of your development. Or, even worse, admit that you’re sending me something that’s even older than what you’re querying around now, that’s from an even earlier phase of your growth as a writer.

I want people who grow and develop their craft every time they sit down to write. I don’t want your old stuff. I want your new ideas, your new skills, your evolving talent…once you’ve given it time to evolve. My favorite Ben Folds quote is pertinent here, and I say it every time I speak to an audience: “Time takes time, you know?”

For some reason, I’ve been noticing a lot of serial queries lately. A query. A pass. Another query, almost instantly, for an old project you just happen to have lying around. That could possibly work if you had a blockbuster drawer manuscript, but if you do, why didn’t you start out by querying that one?

Send me your strongest work, the best example of where you are as a writer today, then, if you get a pass, go back and write some more. Evolve. Then try again. LATER. Take the time to learn from each submission process. You can’t possibly do that until you’ve gone through the entire submission process, though.

You really shouldn’t be one of those writers who’s like a log ride: manuscript after manuscript after manuscript coming down your query chute. I only want to work with thoughtful writers who deliberately learn from each craft experience and then strategically plan their next move. No mad grasping. No flinging stuff against the wall just for the hell of it. That’s just my opinion, though. Maybe other agents appreciate getting hit with query after query for all the stuff you have up your sleeves. Go serial query them, once they raise their hands and endorse this practice. :)

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Austin, TX is the gift that keeps on giving, even when I’m in its hipster-sister city of Portland, OR. After my amazing weekend in Austin a few weeks back, I have been keeping up with my new friend Tolly Moseley (of PR By the Book and her own blog, the Austin Eavesdropper). It is through Tolly from Austin that I learned about this really awesome artist named — what a coincidence — Austin Kleon. (Fun fact: the guy who did my tattoo in Austin is also named Austin. Another fun fact: the woman who colors my hair in San Francisco is named California.)

Austin Kleon gave a graduation speech a few weeks ago to a college class in upstate New York about creativity. Even though he’s a visual artist (with a book out), there’s a lot of rich material there for any writer, artist, or creative person. I’ve been writing recently about creativity, because it’s so important to nourish that part of yourself, whether writing or just living life.

You can read his speech here. I don’t just love it because he quotes Kurt Vonnegut a lot, by the way, though that certainly helps. (Fun fact: for the longest time, I wanted epitaph to be a Vonnegut quote from GOD BLESS YOU, DR. KEVORKIAN: “Everything was beautiful. Nothing hurt,” but this weekend I changed my mind. Why? Because, per my whole “being alive” philosophy, life does hurt sometimes, and that’s what makes it even more beautiful.) As Lady Gaga says in a really fascinating interview (which I’ve linked to once before), here, her favorite quote is, “If you don’t have any shadows, you’re not standing in the light.”

My new epitaph candidates are: “Do I dare / Disturb the universe?” (from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot) or “Only connect!” from HOWARDS END by E.M. Forster. If I really wanted to do Vonnegut, perhaps “I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can’t see from the center,” from PLAYER PIANO. Or, you know, I could always do the favorite from SLAUGHTERHOUSE FIVE: “So it goes.” Why the gravestone thoughts? I just read STIFF by Mary Roach. Good, chilling, mind-bending fun, and really well-written.

I’ve been thinking a lot about creativity, authenticity, and the publishing industry lately. I’ve also been trying to get back in touch with my own creative self. I minister to the creative selves of others for a living. I find that, in order to do that well, I need to refuel my own creative source.

This past (looong) weekend was just the thing the doctor ordered. And it’s not even over yet. I’m writing this from Portland, OR, where I’ve been staying with my inimitable friends, Nate and April, in a rented salmon-colored summer house. They were actually called away to Eugene halfway through my trip and I’ve ended up spending a fair amount of time alone and carless…just me, the sloping green backyard, and the sound of the (everpresent) rain. It has actually been perfect.

On Thursday, I ate perhaps one of the best croissants ever, bought really cute sky blue shoes, and ordered a pair of über-hipster glasses that I just pray are ready before BEA, where I will blow all the other publishing hipsters out of the publishing hipster water with my hipsterness. (Not that I care about being hipper than other hipsters, of course, since I’m a hipster and hipsters, by definition, don’t care.) We spent the night at the Kennedy School and I relaxed in the saltwater soaking pool for hours and hours and hours. My dear Suzanne Young showed up to take me out to dinner and drinks on Friday, stoking my perma-fire for good Cajun food and getting me even more excited for the week I’m spending in NOLA in June for ALA. (Fact: I go to New Orleans at least twice a year because it is one of my favorite US cities.)

On Saturday, Jeff Geiger (Grand Poobah of Radness) crammed into eight hours what would’ve otherwise taken eight days in Portland: a coffee tasting, three breweries, a beer festival, two meals, and even a little bit of Ben Folds goodness. Omakase is a Japanese phrase meaning “it’s up to you” or “I am in your hands.” If you want to make a sushi chef happy, say this and let them serve you whatever they want. That’s what I said to Jeff: I am in your hands. Give me the raddest, baddest, hippest tour of Portland. And he knocked it out of the park. And brought me the present of limited edition beer, to boot. (Bryan Bliss is decidedly unhip in that he did not show his face for these festivities. Boo. Hiss. Weak sauce. Martha Flynn and Melissa Manlove have hyperactive imaginations, but I would still like to invest in a limited print run of “What Wouldn’t Mary Do?” t-shirts. (Fun fact: ladies, you both like me more, so just admit it to yourselves and one another.))

I am so blessed to have these friends. I am so grateful for this time to recharge, listen to Ben Folds, read Kurt Vonnegut (BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS, natch), think my thoughts, and methodically reread the New York Times Modern Love column archives (some of my favorite essays ever).

Speaking of cool things…I just found out (maybe I’m the last to know, I haven’t really been following the movie news) that my gorgeous, fierce, and talented friend from college, Tara Macken, is going to be a tribute in the HUNGER GAMES movie! Woo! Everybody go and “Like” her Facebook page, here.

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Why? Because Microsoft upgraded Word and wanted everyone to upgrade, too, and give them some money. However, they’re not the same file type and many devices can’t read them as the same file type, even if they are very similar.

Why do some agents care about whether you send a requested full as .doc instead of .docx? It’s not because we’re nerds, or we don’t have the latest version of Word (I know I do). It’s because of our e-readers.

Whenever I ask someone for a full manuscript, I tell them to please send me a Word doc file, then specify: .doc, not .docx. When the manuscript comes in, I forward it to my Kindle, then read it on my ereader. This lets me not only keep track of my full requests but it also helps me easily upload things when I’m on the go (which is a lot).

If someone sends me a .docx file, I can’t forward it to my Kindle and start reading. I have to go to my computer, download the file, make it into a .doc file, and then forward it to my Kindle. Why? Because Kindle doesn’t currently support .docx or .pdf files, only .doc and a handful of other ones that aren’t really relevant.

Now, some clever little bugger see my request for a .doc file, then look at their document and see that it’s in .docx format. That’s probably because they’re using the new version of Word, which starts every new file automatically as .docx. They freak out. “Wait! I’m supposed to send her .doc, not .docx, but this says .docx! What do I do?”

If they’re extra extra clever, they highlight the name of their file and just delete the x, so that their file name now reads: “BrilliantNovel.doc” instead of “BrilliantNovel.docx”. Brilliant, right?

No. Because .doc is not .docx. While they are similar, the formatting is just slightly different.

So when Brilliant Writer sends me their BrilliantNovel.doc (which is just called that, it’s actually a .docx file), and I forward it to my Kindle, I get a bounceback from Kindle saying that it’s not in a correct format and to please only send .doc files. Then I go crazy for five minutes thinking, “But wait, this file says ‘BrilliantNovel.doc,’ which should be right. Oh my, is my Kindle broken?”

And then I realize that the writer probably just changed the name on the file instead of actually changing the formatting. You would not believe how often this happens. And then I narrow my eyes and glare at the screen and wonder how anyone could do such a thing.

So this post is to make sure that you don’t ever do such a thing (whether for the first time, or again). When we ask for something in a specific format, send it to us in that format. If you’re looking at a .docx file and have no idea how to make it a .doc, don’t change the name of the file, as you are not also changing the format. Instead, do this:

  1. Open your .docx document.
  2. Go to the File menu.
  3. Select “Save As…”
  4. You’ll see a Save window. Make sure you’re saving to a location that you can find later.
  5. Then you’ll see a drop-down menu for Format.
  6. Select “Word 97-2004 Document (.doc)” (yours might say something else, but you’re looking for the “.doc” part especially)
  7. Click “Save”

Now you should have a document in .doc format to send to the agent who just wants to put it on their ereader. Voila! No tricky name-changing required.

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I’ve been seeing some query letters lately that state the obvious. It’s unnecessary. For example, you don’t need to waste your time writing any of the following:

I am querying you for possible representation of my novel.
I am writing to you because I would like representation from a literary agent.
Publishing a novel is my goal.

Etc. I’m an agent with a submissions pile. If I get an email to that inbox, I know exactly what it is, exactly what it’s doing there, and the exact intentions of the email’s author: to publish something with the aid of a literary agent. You really don’t need to waste the time or words and state the obvious.

Also, don’t give the agent instructions. For example:

Please read the following sample pages and reply if interested.
Contact me to discuss representation.
If interested, please reply and I will submit a partial or full manuscript.

This may be your first query, but it’s not my first time getting one, by any stretch of the imagination. If I’m interested in your project, I know exactly what to do. Leave tips and pointers out of your query as well and let me do my job. Instead of these inane and obvious phrases, do your query job and make me care about the character and plot, instead. That’s really the heart of the letter, and you can see my tips for doing just that here.

None of these little phrases are an automatic rejection, per se, but they do indicate to me — perhaps unjustly, but they do indicate it nonetheless — a lack of higher order logic or thought put into the query. So make sure you’re not sending that message.

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I don’t normally post about client work or manuscripts on the blog, at least not until they’ve sold. And especially not before I’ve had a chance to send notes to the writer. :P But I’m feeling a little crazy this morning (perhaps due to the five shots of espresso I had late last night, or the resulting lack of sleep…oy), so here it goes! I’m editing a manuscript right now where an interesting issue has come up, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to blog about fact and fiction. Without giving too much of this particular manuscript’s plot away, I’ll tell you that this manuscript includes a character going into shock after a traumatic event (an understatement).

Now, I don’t know if I’ve ever gone into serious shock (this is not an invitation to the Universe to provide me with such an experience, by the way), but I’m familiar with the biological process of it. One loses the ability to think rationally. There’s anxiety, a lot of adrenaline, screaming, paleness, chills, etc. The things one says make no sense. (To those wise-crackers out there who are planning to imply that the last criteria means that I have been in shock, and quite often, while blogging, I’m one step ahead of you!)

All of this is valid and, from a fact standpoint, true. When I turn on the TV and watch Law and Order (fact vs. fiction time: I don’t have a TV and, even if I did, I wouldn’t watch Law and Order, but bear with me here), a show where lots of people go through a rough time, I expect to see actors and actresses portraying shock realistically. So one would imagine that a character going through shock on the page would exhibit these symptoms, too, right?

Not so much. Why? Fiction is very logical. Even in moments of madness, there has to be “method in’t” (Hamlet, FTW). If you transcribe the exact experience of shock, it will be very realistic, but it would read strangely on the page. Just like when we read ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST, a novel about crazy people (or is it?!), you don’t just have a transcription of the nonsense that goes on in a mental ward the way you’d have it in a stereotypical movie. You know, people burbling their lips with their fingers and sprouting random nonsense. That’s fine for the screen, but it doesn’t play quite as well on the page. Even if something “crazy” happens, it has to make fictional, motivational, character, and plot sense.

In other words, fiction is the art of taking something realistic to the next level. Even if you’re being true to life, you have to think of the craft and the character and story logic.

Another easy example to emphasize this point is dialogue. Dialogue is for sure “the art of taking something realistic to the next level,” because when we write dialogue, we interpret and elevate instead of transcribing. If we “wrote” dialogue to exactly mimic real speech, our pages would be pitted with “uh”s and “um”s and other useless stuff that infests our conversations. Great dialogue writers keep the cadence and voice of real people but they distill the words and how they’re spoken to be like life, but better. (This is, of course, just one component of truly great dialogue.)

So in the case of a scene of trauma or madness when the character experiences it too realistically, I’m challenged as a reader by that and feel really removed from the character. Why? Because, again, shock is all about floating in and out of awareness, random screaming, etc. A character, who I’ve gotten to know over the course of a book, is no longer making sense to me if their shock experience is described completely true-to-life. I feel outside of their experience (whereas elsewhere, especially in first person, I feel very close to them, as the connection is excellent).

This is especially true if the moment of hyper-reality happens at the climax of the story, and that’s actually when I need to feel closest to the protagonist and as clued in to their interiority (what’s going on in their head/heart) as possible. To yank the reader away from the character at such a critical point in time (or, you know, at any time, really) does the reader a disservice.

Where’s the lesson for you? When you’re describing something realistically, especially when a little madness starts to creep into the character and/or plot, take great pains to make story and character sense so that you include your reader. And speaking of Hamlet, it couldn’t hurt to study your Shakespeare. He does “logical madness” very well, with characters from Ophelia to Lady Macbeth. (Look! I’ve pulled a Shakespeare and coined a new oxymoron! (Also, what is with all my parentheticals this morning? (Seriously? (Also, I didn’t actually coin “logical madness.” Damn.)))) Shakespeare did, also, invent teenagers, by the way, so he’s worth a reread for today’s YA writers.

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Creative Confidence

Sometimes “the muse” is feeling coy (As a former MFA student I really, really groan whenever someone calls it that…let’s just call it “creativity,” okay? And please let’s take off the ironic hipster glasses…), other times, inspiration seems to flow. The push and pull of the creative life changes with our lives. Sometimes we have more hours in the day and more energy to devote to creativity. Other times life seems to explode around us, eating up and choking all of our creative oxygen. Sometimes we write and get in the groove and keep writing. Other times we stop.

I firmly believe that people are creative beings. (Why, yes, I did grow up in California, with a painter for a mother and a dad who used to live on a Buddhist commune…why do you ask? That’s how come I can say “creative beings” and talk about the “Universe.”) Creativity is our mode. That’s what we do. Life is also creative. That’s the point.

For all of you out there who are still struggling to validate your own creative impulses or give yourself permission to create — both of which are really hard for some people to do — I say: Get cracking. That’s the first step in fulfilling the rest of your creative dreams. Everybody has them. Not many people get around to honoring them, and then that disappointment tends to fester. If you feel really damaged or self-conscious about your deepest desires to write or paint or do performance art on a street corner, for goodness’ sake, run out and get a copy of The Artist’s Way, buy a journal, meditate, go into therapy, shut your kids out of your office, and do whatever else you have to do to take some responsibility for your creativity.

What’s that? You have no time? Or work is too hard and leaves you too tired? Or you’re trying to go back to school? Or you’re sick and in pain? All perfectly valid. However, all are excuses. As I tell my clients: You are the only person on this planet who is going to care the most about your creative output and your career. Sure, you will get people in your corner, like your agent, your editor, your mentors, your friends and family, you cat, and your fans, who will care about your books or whatever else you do, but nobody will care about it half as much as you. (I do work hard to be a close second for my clients, though!)

Instead of this idea being empowering and liberating to a lot of people, it’s paralyzing and scary. It means you have to take responsibility for your creative ideas. It means you actually have to do something and make them happen. It means that you have to face (gasp!) obstacles and failure. Sure, there’s fear in every endeavor, but that’s good. That’s the way it works. I’d rather live a life where I’ve followed my dreams, been myself, created, lived big, failed a lot, succeeded more often, and experienced as many things as possible. Unfulfilled creative people really are the worst…they’re bitter and resentful, they blame everyone and everything else for how little they accomplish, they pull dark gray clouds along with them as they walk down the street.

Lots of people have really valid issues in this area: parents who weren’t supportive or present, real economic hardship and family obligations, societal pressure to conform, crippling self-doubt. I don’t mean to mock or make light of these things. But they are all negative. Creativity is positive. (California, remember?) And creativity doesn’t have to mean something big: a million dollar book deal, a novel completed in a month, a sleeper hit music video (ahem, Rebecca Black), a poem published, an agent secured after the first round of queries.

Creativity can be something small: one page a day, one journal entry in the morning, one picture taken, one walk at sunset. But the point is opening yourself up to it…and then being disciplined. The more you do, the easier it becomes, and the more your creativity builds off of a solid, steady foundation. Be creative regularly; every day is best. Do it for its own sake, not for the sake of the outcome (book, agent, publishing deal, etc.). Just create. Nobody will do it for you, you’re gonna regret it if you don’t, and time’s a-wastin’. What are you waiting for?

(This is as much a pep talk for y’all as it is for me. And yes, I fully acknowledge the irony of talking about creativity and the Universe and positivity and hating the term “the muse.” I’m an enigma, yo.)

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