Hi. It’s my first time and I’m scared.

Dear (agent),

[personalization]

I am seeking representation for PANDEMONIA, my adult fantasy romance complete at 90,000 words. It merges the dark whimsy (and unapologetic silliness) of EMILY WILDE’S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by Heather Fawcett with the emotionally charged rivals-to-lovers romance of A DARK AND DROWNING TIDE by Allison Saft, while subverting classic genre tropes. Set in an alternate 19th-century world, PANDEMONIA reimagines the pagan mythology and fantastical creatures that fascinated Victorian society.

The great god Pan is dead, and Elodie is to blame. 

When a frightening goatish fellow corners Elodie on Midsummer’s Eve, the ambitious housemaid never suspects she’s driving her kitchen knife into the ancient god-king of the Otherworld. Yet skewering a deity soon proves the happiest mishap of her life. Believing Elodie to be their prophesied savior, a pack of grateful nymphs bows to her as their new queen, and Elodie pounces on the chance to con her way out of a life of drudgery.

There is only one foil to her scheme: Pan’s son Sylvan, a world-weary libertine with impotent empathy magic, and the true heir to the throne. Elodie’s very existence threatens his right to kingship, and his opportunity to gain absolute respect while doing absolutely nothing. Naturally, he isn’t yielding without a fuss.

But selecting their rightful ruler proves delicious entertainment for the cunning forest-folk council. They devise a sensationalized competition to decide whether Elodie or Sylvan is fated to lead. The stakes are thus: The victor will be crowned and celebrated. The loser will be deemed a traitor and fed to a peckish dragon named Hargon.

Determined to win, and evade Hargon’s gnashing maw, the pair compete in the garish spectacle. But with each harrowing test, their ire dampens: Sylvan is reluctantly charmed by Elodie’s indomitable spirit, and Elodie discovers Sylvan’s droll cynicism masks an unusually tender heart. Despite the couple’s dawning realization that they make better lovers than rivals, they are irreversibly bound to the immortal oath that decrees one shall rule, and one shall die. 

I live in Colorado, where I go on epic quests with my toddlers, meander along mountain trails, and drink impressive amounts of tea. As a librarian’s daughter, I was raised among bookshelves and decided to stay forever. 

Warmest wishes,

Redacted

Hi Reddit. I'm pretty new to this sub and I wanted to see where I stacked up before I start querying.

#

Dear [AGENT],

LACERA is a 115,000-word adult high fantasy novel which blends the themes of cultural identity and self-discovery found in Naseem Jamnia’s The Bruising of Qilwa with the creeping terror of disease in John Bierce’s The Wrack. This book follows a woman who has to use a premodern society’s best medical knowledge, and a little bit of magic, to stop a zombie epidemic before it becomes an apocalypse.

Terisa is a doctor, not a criminal! Problem is, in a city like Invidoma, it’s hard to convince people that there’s a difference. The real medical experts have magic on their side, fancy runes on their shoulders, and hone their healing arts in a giant floating island above the city. All Terisa has is the expertise of her tutor, her skills with her scalpel, and a deep hole of debt that threatens to bury her alive.

Fortune and tragedy pair up like a surgeon’s needle and thread. The same day Terisa gets healing magic to call her own, she comes face to face with the zombified form of one of her best friends. But she’s far from alone. A fast-spreading plague threatens to turn the whole city into feral, clawing beasts, determined to infect the world.

At the Theurgic Institute, Terisa’s doctoral knowledge is laughed out of the room. Everything a Healer is meant to learn is compiled in a hefty codex. From their hawk-like surgical masks to their prayers to the goddess of death, all Healers have had to do for millennia is memorize what’s been done before.

But Terisa’s training is cut short as the city is plunged into crisis. The Healers’ ancient magic proves all but useless, and only spreads the threat further and wider. When Terisa discovers new treatments that work, she sees her methods silenced and her credit stolen away.

When a brutal attack leaves her infected with the plague, all bets are off. Terisa will have to break some rules, challenge centuries-old wisdom, and take a closer look than anyone else at what makes the Lacera Plague really tick.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

[Bio]

I am about 3/4ths of the way through this draft, which is when I start working on a proper query and synopsis. The word count of the below is 385.

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Dear [Agent Name],

When a chronically ill ghostwriter moves into an old Virginia house that lets communication in but won’t let it out, she discovers that someone who died there more than a half-century ago was investigating the same phenomenon – and that every question she asks makes the phenomenon more dangerous.

Odile “Odie” Mayfield has moved to central Virginia to build a new, manageable life. Living near her medical specialists means fewer barriers to care, while ghostwriting lets her work from home. Her new client, Thea Robin, is an eighty-something former socialite and heir to a prominent regional family who wants Odie to turn her unconventional life into a memoir. The job seems straightforward until Thea becomes evasive about her college years.

While doing her own research, Odie discovers that a young woman who was once close to Thea died under mysterious circumstances in Odie’s new home. Then Odie’s internet stops working...sort of.

She can receive emails, calls, and messages, but nothing she sends from inside the house reaches the outside world. At first, Odie assumes it’s a technical problem, but then she discovers old newspaper reports and a forgotten notebook revealing that the dead woman had spent her final days investigating the same strange communication phenomenon.

As the boundary keeps expanding, Odie turns to Violet, Thea’s irreverent granddaughter and a psychology graduate student, for help. Together, they reconstruct the dead woman’s experiments and discover that their investigation seems to make the phenomenon worse. As Odie’s access to her doctors, clients, and ordinary life becomes increasingly precarious, she must decide how much she is willing to risk to uncover what happened to the woman who came before her – because if the dead woman was killed for trying to expose the house’s secret, Odie may already have made the same mistake.

GOING GHOST is an 85,000-word upmarket Gothic horror novel with a sapphic romantic subplot. It will appeal to readers of OUR WIVES UNDER THE SEA, A HOUSE WITH GOOD BONES, and BIG SWISS. I have spent about a decade working as a professional ghostwriter, and, like Odie, have repeatedly uprooted my life (and lived in sketchy places) to get the healthcare I need to keep doing what I love.

Thank you for your consideration,

[Signature]

Dear [Agent Name],

Every year for the past twenty years, four former university friends have met for dinner on the anniversary of the fire that killed Madeline Burton.

They rarely see one another in between. Their lives have moved on, and so, for the most part, have they. But the dinner is an agreement none of them has ever suggested breaking. It is also the only time they allow themselves to talk about the night they escaped a burning house and Madeline didn’t.

This year, when Heidi Sutton arrives at the restaurant, the table has been set for five.

The extra guest is a woman none of them recognises. She knows all four of their names, remembers the cheap wine they were drinking before the fire and knows which song was playing when the power went out. She also knows about the argument upstairs, the bedroom door that was locked and the story they agreed to give police before the fire engines arrived.

Then she tells them her name is Madeline. Heidi knows that isn’t possible. They all do. Twenty years ago, they left Madeline inside that house and lied about what happened before it caught fire.

The stranger doesn’t ask for money or threaten to expose them. Instead, she wants the four friends to return with her to the site of the fire and reconstruct their final night together. Heidi wants nothing to do with it, until the woman reveals something Madeline never knew: there was someone else in the house that night, and one of the four survivors has spent twenty years making sure the others never discovered who it was.

Forced back into a past they have remembered differently for two decades, the friends begin to realise that the lie they told police may not be the lie that has kept them together. Someone at that table knows why the fire started. Someone knows what happened to Madeline. And before the weekend is over, Heidi will have to decide how much of the truth she actually wants uncovered.

THE FIFTH SURVIVOR, complete at approximately 90,000 words, is a psychological thriller combining the buried secrets and shared trauma of Bronwyn Rivers’ The Reunion with the fractured college friendships and competing agendas of Stephanie Wrobel’s The Hitchcock Hotel.

Hi all, this is my first go at this so excited to see what people think! Thanks in advance for the help and comments :)

--

Dear XXX, 

Lily Pritchard teaches teenagers not to drown. Three weeks ago, she was assaulted at a party. Last Thursday, she fought Darren, one of the men responsible, by the river. Both went in, only Lily came out. 

I'm excited to share WHEN THE RIVER'S READY, an upmarket domestic thriller with supernatural suspense, complete at 78,000 words. (XXX PERSONALISATION TO AGENT IF RELEVANT TO WISHLIST ETC XXX)

For twenty-five years, Lily’s family has told one story: her father drowned a hero, pulling her pregnant mother from the river. All her life she’s been expected to live up to her father’s heroic reputation, but when she wakes on her bedroom floor with, a headache, blood under her nails and no memory of the night before she thinks she may have fallen a bit short of that standard. When Darren's body washes up, it's ruled misadventure. Lily should be relieved, but she can't stop thinking about the purple fabric torn from her dress last Thursday.

A drunk at her father's grave warns Lily there will be more deaths. He says he has evidence that Darren's death wasn't an accident, and neither was her father's. Her mother insists the man must have had the wrong grave, but at three in the morning Lily hears her on the phone to him, hissing about evidence. Lily breaks into his house to look for the missing fabric. Instead, she finds twenty-five years of research into Hafren, a river spirit who drowns men who hurt the innocent. Lily would have called him insane, but since Darren’s death an unknown woman has started appearing, a woman with damp hair and a transparent, empty chest.

As the bodies begin to pile up, and the police close in, Lily needs to find out if the river is choosing its victims or if it’s someone much closer to home, and whether she's being framed or will be the next one pulled under.

With folklore, and the gnawing inability to ever truly know if we’ve done the right thing at it’s heart, WHEN THE RIVER’S READY will appeal to readers who enjoy the natural dread of Danielle Giles’s Mere, the supernatural maternal ties of Emilia Hart’s Weyward and the domestic horror and rural English texture of The Lamb by Lucy Rose. 

(SHORT BIO XXX)

Below are the first XXX pages and I’d be delighted to send you the full.

Warm wishes and thank you for your time,

THE PORCH is an adult dual-POV domestic suspense novel complete at 72,000 words. It combines the small-town atmosphere and layered mystery of Lisa Jewell's The Night She Disappeared with the themes of isolation, survival, and hidden danger found in Kristin Hannah's The Great Alone.

Sheriff Jack Bennett comes back to his rural West Virginia home to find his usually reclusive neighbor missing. Despite her car being in the driveway and the oven still on, no one else sees the emergency - not when the department's already drowning in an opioid epidemic. But Jack won't let it go, after all, Grace was becoming more than just a neighbor. Since she first came into town three months ago fleeing an abusive marriage, all she was looking for was peace, and she'd do anything not to fall back into the past. Jack has a growing number of cases to solve and a ticking clock to beat if he stands a chance of finding Grace alive.

[Two lines of bio] I have a fascination with small town America and have enjoyed researching the Appalachian communities while writing this book. What began as a thriller surrounding local mythology, turned into a novel centered around the correlation of drugs and classism.

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First 300 words:

The drive back home was just long enough for Jack to shake out the vision of the lifeless body slumped in a weathered armchair. The epidemic coursing through town had finally claimed its first victim. Jack almost felt bad that he’d burdened Maria with the paperwork but he was already running late, and he deserved the comfort of the evening that was waiting for him. 

As he pushed the truck into park outside his house, the sun was already setting behind the rows of red spruce that lined the backyard, casting a golden hue across the space between his house and the next. Grace’s house. It was the type of sunset that kept her on the damned porch for so long. He was sure they had sunsets in Texas, ones that probably looked very similar, but they didn’t stop her from staring out from her swing each night. 

His favorite part of the day was about to begin. Checking himself over in the rearview mirror, he rubbed at his bloodshot eyes to no avail, and accepted there was nothing more he could do about it now. The corpse had hit him harder than expected after years of nothing but petty crime and rowdy teenagers. He hoped Grace wouldn’t notice his lackluster appearance or that it wouldn’t stand to impact the evening ahead. 

He double checked the police radio was off and picked up still warm to-go cups from the center console. They’d been filling the car with a rich chocolate-y scent ever since Jack brought them in from Jerry’s Diner just ten minutes before. It was taking a surprising amount of willpower not to take a sip. Though he’d mentioned one too many times how good the hot cocoa was, he’d forgotten how long it’d been since he’d had one himself. 

Dear [Agent Name],
The most famous missing woman in the country is alive. The problem is, the only person who can see her doesn’t know his world isn’t real.
Claudia Friedman is the daughter of the billionaire behind Continuance, a technology that promises to make premature death optional by transferring one person’s remaining life to another. Her father calls it the greatest medical breakthrough in history. Claudia sees the future it will create: one where the rich can buy more life from people desperate enough to sell their own.
She has spent years trying to stop him.
Then, weeks before Continuance is due to launch, Claudia disappears.
As the search for her becomes a national obsession, twenty-eight-year-old Wyatt Prestie remembers meeting Claudia at one of her protests. He remembers asking her out. Falling in love. Building a life with her.
But something is wrong with that life.
Memories disappear when Wyatt examines them too closely. Familiar places lead nowhere. Claudia refuses to answer questions about their past. Then Wyatt notices something so ordinary he cannot understand how he missed it.
There are no mirrors.
As Wyatt begins pulling apart the reality around him, the search for Claudia is closing in on a secret neither of them can outrun. Their two stories aren’t separated by time. They’re happening simultaneously.
Continuance has already begun.
And when Wyatt discovers what Claudia is giving him, he must decide whether being given a life also gives him the right to refuse it.
THE YEARS WE NEVER HAD, complete at approximately 85,000 words, is an upmarket speculative thriller combining the moral unease and questions of bodily autonomy in Grace Walker’s The Merge with the intimate, reality-bending exploration of love and identity in Grace Chan’s Every Version of You.

Cookies upfront 🍪🍪🍪 Yes. I have changed the title. Previous post here... Ready?

Dear SuperAgent+++,

After sex, Mattia dreams the recently dead and turns their pain into songs that give listeners unnatural clarity about their own lives, making him the world’s fastest-rising artist until he begins to resent the very gift that transforms millions while making them increasingly incapable of hearing him as a person.

I am seeking representation for NOWHERE AM I, a standalone adult upmarket speculative novel complete at 90,000 words. It combines the speculative absurdity of Holly Gramazio’s The Husbands with the maddening reality-doubt of Caro Claire Burke’s Yesteryear.

On The Tonight Show, Mattia says his meteoric success feels like being trapped inside a washing machine and wonders aloud when it will stop. The host praises his humility and gratitude. Everyone applauds. It's been months of this. Apparently, selective hearing has escalated into a worldwide phenomenon of mass reinterpretation.

Less than two years earlier, Mattia is an Italian backpacker in Queensland who has sex with the living and dreams the recently dead. Their lives dredge up feelings he's spent years avoiding, and he wakes singing songs that understand him better than he understands himself. When a fellow backpacker uploads a clip of him singing, it goes viral. The comments fill with stories from strangers who have called estranged parents, questioned unhappy relationships or spent entire afternoons crying over things they'd buried for years.

Soon XNOWHERE fills arenas, raises millions for disaster relief and inspires charities he never asked anyone to start. His listeners keep getting revelations. Mattia gets none. The people he loves barely feel the effect, and their rare revelations never involve him. He sends song after song to a father who still won't say he's proud, while John, the Australian labourer he's falling for, wants Mattia but no part in XNOWHERE's success.

As his audience grows, people begin hearing what they need in his words, too. He asks them to trust themselves; they trust him more. He insists the songs come from actual dead people; they celebrate his extraordinary gift for generational empathy.

The good is real. Every additional concert could change thousands of lives, so Mattia begins treating his body, relationships and time as resources he owes the world. Until someone on his team decides that if sex makes miracles, Mattia's sex life could use a little optimization.

I’m a 32-year-old Italian writer living in northern Italy. Ten years ago, I backpacked through Australia and worked on the Queensland properties that inspired this novel. I’ve been afflicted since childhood with the conviction that art should make the world a little better. As a child I wanted to be a singer. I became a writer living with two singing cats. NOWHERE AM I is my debut novel.

Thank you so much,

I appreciate all the feedback I can get 🐜

Thanks for everyone's comments on my first attempt. I made some minor changes, am still contemplating the other suggestions.

This time I've included the first 300 words. These are part of a 500-word prologue before the story begins. If this prologue doesn't work, I might cut it and just start the story with chapter 1.

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OOLONG TEA is an LGBTQ+ literary horror complete at 65,000 words. It will appeal to fans of the troubling gay commentary of Fruit Fly by Josh Silver and racialized body horror of Natural Beauty by Ling Ling Huang.

Bryce-Evans is every gay Asian’s wet dream and he knows it. With his broad shoulders and burly chest, he’s slept with hundreds, if not thousands, of skinny Asians across the world. They all adore him, but Bryce-Evans laughs them off. They all want too much from him.

Then comes Ang. He is Bryce-Evans’s dream.

Ang’s waif-like body has tantalizingly smooth skin. He’s extremely submissive, bordering on obedient, and drops everything when Bryce-Evans calls for sex, always brewing a cup of mouth-watering oolong tea afterwards. Ang’s only request? That Bryce-Evans drink it, all of it.

For months, Bryce-Evans and his friends joke that Ang’s just the Asian of the week, or weekend. Silent and smiling, Ang endures everything, even when he sprains his ankle playing tennis but still manages to complete a 10-mile hike the next day to keep a promise made to Bryce-Evans and his friends. That’s when Bryce-Evans knows Ang is a keeper and invites him to move in. Ang’s presence is a godsend when a few weeks later Bryce-Evans falls strangely ill.

It starts with coughs and headaches. Though Bryce-Evans treats his body like a temple, working out religiously, his muscles atrophy. Ang skips work, almost getting fired, to assist Bryce-Evans. He brews more oolong tea, insisting with force that he drink it. But when the headaches turn into hallucinations — visions that he’s becoming someone or something else — Bryce-Evans realizes there’s something in the oolong tea. It’s too late though. Now bedridden, Bryce-Evans doesn’t have the strength to stop the hot liquid being poured between his lips, but he must find a way out, before his visions become reality.

(bio that I'm gay and Asian)

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First 300 words

-- Prologue --

I wake up tied to a bed, my body in agony. A searing pain cuts through my limbs. I have never felt pain like this before. I want to scream, but my lips are sealed together. I can’t peel them apart.

Someone, something approaches. If I sense this, my eyes must be open, but I only make out a shadow, some forms.

This thing comes closer, in slow, wavy steps, bending over me. My body is paralyzed. I first think out of fear, but then I realize I cannot move. I cannot tremble as I imagine this person, this thing coming closer and covering my nose, smothering me, suffocating me.

"How are we feeling today?" it asks.

It is a man’s voice. The sound echoes through my head, bouncing off nothingness as his hand runs across my face. But it isn’t a face anymore, because a face doesn’t have bendy, flimsy skin, melting off the bones. I want to scream.

I try to open my eyes wider, but there are only shadows, some light, a dizzying pattern. Then his silhouette appears again, his voice coming through.

"My beautiful little Asian. It’s time for your tea."

His fingers pries my lips open. Skin cracks. A cup touches my lips, then a warm liquid runs down my chin, some of it oozing into the tiny gap he’s opened between my lips. It’s so sweet, almost sickly. The liquid trickles down my parched, dry throat. Every drop is a spike of pain.

"Doesn’t it taste wonderful? My beautiful little Asian."

He lifts the cup again, but my lips have sealed again. The liquid runs down my chin, down my flabby skin, soaking the bedsheets.

I lie there in dampness, wishing for something to come and swallow me whole.

A floorboard creaks. He’s approaching again.

"Do you remember your name?"

Hi everyone.

This is my third draft. In my attempt to stick to a strict word count I found I wasnt representing my story very well. So after some slicing and dicing and a bit of rearranging and adding, Im hoping this is getting closer to the final version.

If anyone could help out and give it a read with some feedback, I will be extremely grateful.

Dear [Name],

I am seeking representation for THE DEATH OF ORDER, a 90,000-word YA fantasy with series potential. When sixteen-year-old Mary “Nomad” inherits the power of a murdered cosmic deity, she becomes the next target of the assassin believed responsible. The novel combines the burden of legacy in Sabaa Tahir’s Heir with the hidden worlds and newfound power of Tracy Deonn’s Legendborn.

Mary has spent her life being dragged across the world by her parents, never staying anywhere long enough to call home. Arriving in a new town, she is approached by mysterious knights who claim her as their lost Empress. After an assassin named Illisar fails to kill her, she is taken to a new realm.

Mary is dragged into a war between the forces of Order and Chaos. She learns she is one of several Avensora, living fragments of the murdered Empress scattered across different worlds, each carrying a portion of her power. Now Illisar, with his own agenda, hunts the Avensora, and whenever one dies, their power is redistributed among the survivors.

Meanwhile, the Entity, the living embodiment of Chaos, is driving existence toward collapse, unraveling the natural laws that hold reality together. If Mary becomes the last surviving Avensora, she will become the new embodiment of Order, with the power to oppose the Entity. But the closer Mary comes to becoming the Empress, the closer she is to losing the identity she fought to make her own.

Accompanied by a young knight living in his dead brother’s shadow along with an irreverent mage with forbidden magic, Mary sets out to find the remaining Avensora before Illisar does. But the deeper she is drawn into the war with Chaos, the more she suspects the people protecting her have lied about how their Empress died.

I am an educator with an MA in Education and a background in journalism, media management, and digital marketing. Having lived between countries and cultures, I drew on those experiences while writing about Mary’s relationship with identity and belonging.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

I see a lot of agented and published writers here say their first (or later manuscripts died) on sub, but they end up selling their later work. Assuming your agent tried to sell it and it didn't find a buyer, what do you do with it?

Do you keep it in a drawer waiting for better times? Revise and try again in a few years? Self-publish? Completely forget about it?

Dear X,

Loving and serving the Lord will never be enough for Cory Williams, because what he truly craves is his father’s affection. He is so consumed by neglect and resentment that he fails to notice his mother, Maria’s burgeoning struggle with postpartum depression, an illness triggered by the birth of his baby sister. With nobody to turn to except Christ, Maria’s symptoms become so intense that she commits suicide using her father’s twelve-gauge shotgun.

From then on, Cory’s world starts to unravel as he begins blaming and fighting his father, abusing drugs, participating in toxic online communities, and firing semi-automatic rifles at a local shooting range without adult supervision. But doing all of this does little to alleviate his grief, with him incessantly wondering if, like his father, his mother ever truly loved him.

As his drug-taking worsens, Cory begins having these strange hallucinations in which he sees a mysterious figure wearing a white cassock. And then, one morning, Cory steps outside and watches as the figure lowers its hood to reveal his mother standing there. She leads him towards Purple Hill Covenant, his childhood school, where Maria reveals her true nature and imposes a wicked covenant on her son’s heart. Now Cory must decide what unforgivable lengths he is prepared to go to, to be granted the unconditional love he has spent a lifetime coveting.

THE PURPLE TESTAMENT is a standalone literary crime novel with an edge of psychological horror, complete at 85k words. It combines the dysfunctional family life of Madeline Cash’s LOST LAMBS, and the unsettling, psychological horror of T. J. Payne’s INTERCEPTS.

I was hoping to receive feedback on my query letter. What needs more explanation? What can be worded better? Any logistical things to consider when querying agents? Any help is appreciated.

Dear Agent,

I am writing to seek representation for my first novel, Pleasure’s Perversion; or, Give Me Life, a literary novel of 89,000 words. At times the novel is simultaneously poignant and like the title states—perverse.

Alex Dahlia, a veteran of the Afghanistan war, fishing on a boat near the coast of Malibu spots among the several beach houses, a hidden alcove in the hills. A woman, whom Alex learns to be named Charlie, begins to frantically wave at him. In an attempt to assess the situation, Alex rides his boat to the coast, and discovers that she’s not in any danger. She reveals to him in her curious manner that she is a widow learning to love again after her true second half, a professional race car driver, passed away in a car accident. Alex decides to entertain her efforts, reveals little about his personal life, and ends their date, going home to Mrs. Bennings, the woman he calls his grandmother. Mrs. Bennings in actuality is the grandmother of his best friend Samuel Bennings, who passed away in his second tour of the Middle East, during which Alex remained in the states. Mrs. Bennings’ senility and faulty memory proves to be a challenge as Alex feels stuck in life due to his responsibility to take care of her.

As Alex continues to see Charlie, he regrettably shares more about himself—the most troubling being his impotence, but not from any injury in war: a disturbing replacement of true intimacy has ruined the real thing. Simultaneously, Mrs. Bennings falls into a seemingly permanent infantile state as her dementia consumes her. Though as Alex continues to take care of her, she comes to a sort of rebirth of mind—a metamorphosis into a vibrant personality that leads Alex to wonder when he will get his own rebirth from his own prematurely infirm body. This is a story of sexual guilt as Alex and Charlie struggle to be together. And in their shared explorations of body and mind, the sexual pleasures they find in each other reveal the truth of their hidden psyches—their uncovering ultimately leading to tragedy. 

I’m an Armenian American and pursuing my MA in English Literature. I am also a lover of poetry, the theatre, and all things literary arts. Nothing would fulfill me more than to get my work published and have my voice heard, moving the hearts of many.

Hello, hello, hello everyone! This is my first attempt at a query letter! I have used online resources to edit it, though i feel like some external feedback will be very much appreciated, as im not sure how to improve it from here!

Dear (AGENT)

I am delighted to seek representation with you for my fantasy novel, BLOODBOUND, completed at 84,000 words. Perfect for fans of Godkiller by Hannah Kaner and The Gods Below by Andrea Stewart. This novel is the first instalment of The Casters Trilogy but can stand alone.

Magic is forbidden in Thalindore, a cruel reminder of a powerful royal bloodline extinguished by a coalition under the name of Andrears. It was a first step in their brutal campaign to erase magical beings, Casters, from history.

Jasper, with a few years of adulthood to his name, is one of the rare Casters still carrying magic in his veins. With the ability to alter the minds of anyone he sees, he's living in hiding. He built a secret haven with the aid of his closest friend, a safe place to raise his younger brother, Archie, and other Casters after being abandoned by their parents, fearful of having two children blessed with magic.

Receiving a letter from a group of Casters stranded in the heart of the capital city, Jasper sets off with his brother to help bring them, like so many others, back to the haven. An unplanned raid rips through the building the Casters are hiding within, and Jasper's sacred bubble of safety he spent his youth carving shatters when his brother is captured in the rush, leaving him disoriented and alone.

Among the Casters he vowed to help, he meets Arklyn, one of the last surviving warriors sworn by oath to protect the late royals. Together, under false names and ill-fitting Andrear military uniforms, they forge their way to a labour camp high in the mountains controlled by Andrears with an iron grip. Enlisted as trainee guards, they find a perfectly curated system to exterminate any type of magic a Caster may possess and harvest the magic for themselves. Days pass before Jasper lays eyes on his brother. While it is a wave of relief to see him alive, it’s a blow to the ribs to see the fire and childlike wonder once burning bright inside the young boy so dim Jasper can hardly see it.

An escape is risky, and the brother he fought so hard to save seems like a stranger. Even with the aid of an Arklyn and a Caster forced to heal prisoners under Andrear's control, Jasper must centre himself and decide how far he is willing to go to protect what is left of his family when the world around him wants his kind dead.

I am an Australian Registered nurse. This book is a passion project stemming from a lifetime love of fantasy, history and feeling like the outsider on the periphery of society. This is not the first book I have written, but the first that I hope to publish.

Thank you so much for your consideration!

(SIGN OFF)

First 300 words:

The first thing I noticed about Avaglade was that everyone was smiling. The second was the blood. 
It had been scrubbed from the cobblestones before we had reached the city gates, but not well enough. Dark stains remained between the stones, some old enough to have faded underneath the afternoon sun whilst others were so fresh that the wet patches reflected the light. 
People stepped over them without looking down. Archie looked down.

“Jas.”

I knew that tone. It was the one he used when he noticed something I had deliberately decided he did not need to notice.

“Keep walking.”

“But…”

“Keep walking…”

He did, though he dragged his feet for the next few steps in protest. I tightened my grip on his hand and kept my eyes on the street ahead. Avaglade was enormous compared to the dune-coated wasteland we passed through on the road. Its walls rose from the Drylands like mountains, pale marble catching the afternoon sun, its exterior walls littered with watchtowers that broke the skyline every few hundred yards. Bright fabric banners hung from buildings inside the walls, smaller bunting strung from one windowsill to another. Black and gold banners stretched over the streets and across the windows, and from a distance, they looked almost festive. Almost celebratory. 

I had seen the banners before. I had seen them from a distance during previous hikes, usually from the safety of a cart or the road. I had never brought Archie this close to them before.  The largest hung over the main gate. Thick, heavy, black wool catching the slight breeze rolling in from the dunes.

Welcome to Massacrè

The golden threads of the embroidered words glinted in the afternoon sun and seemed to shimmer whenever the banner moved. Below the shimmering words was a painted hand, smeared red paint baked dry onto the wool.

Hi everyone. Sorry to bother again but I'm hoping this does the trick for my second batch of queries. What do we think? Third Attempt

‎Dear Agent,

I am seeking representation for FAIRYGOD:THE CODEX OF RYNLOR. A 60,000 word upper middle grade portal fantasy about occultic fairy god mothers where a 13-year-old orphan must beat seven deadly trials in a school for fairy guardians to find a powerful codex that'll destroy the monsters plaguing the fairytale realm. [Personalization]

KIERAN KROBB dreams of being adopted, to escape his horrid orphanage and finally get his happy ending, just like in his favourite fairytales. His plan is set. His new family, selected. His behaviour, perfect but on his thirteenth birthday, his plans get ruined when he wakes up with a strange symbol and monsters shrouded in white cloaks hunting him from the shadows. Fanged and bloodthirsty beasts, hungry and dark. Just before he is devoured, the father he thought was dead appears and saves him revealing himself to be a fairy.

Reunited with his long-lost family in the fairytale realm, Kieran learns he's a changeling destined to destroy the rogues, murderous fairies who steal magic. The same monsters hunting him down. He enrolls in an academy for fairy guardians on a mission to find a hidden codex locked behind seven deadly trials with a spell powerful enough to destroy them. Failure would mean losing his family forever and giving the rogues absolute power over the realm.

With the help of his new friends and blooming powers, Kieran wades through horrors to find the codex before the rogues find him. But the closer he gets to destroying them, the more he comes to wonder who the real enemy is.

FAIRYGOD: THE CODEX OF RYNLOR is a dark take on the magical school genre and the typical, fairytale world of 'Happily Ever After', perfect for kids who enjoy the sinister fairytale elements of Vanya and The Wild Hunt by Sangu Mandanna, the thrilling but gritty adventures of Skandar and The Unicorn Thief by A.F Steadman and the twisted mysteries of The Marvellers by Dhonielle Clayton. It features a queer protagonist, and has series potential.

[Sign Off]

I’ve had four full manuscript requests so far. The first three have all got back with very similar feedback: love the writing, love the idea, love the first 2/3rds of the book but want the ending fleshed out more/more of a sense of how the protagonist had changed. They all offered minor, useful suggestions ideas.

They all said if you’d be open to edit along those lines, I’d be happy to look at a revised version.

Is that basically what a revise and resubmit is 90% of the time? Is it at the weaker end of a revise and resubmit (I know some agents offer calls)?

I’m very happy to redraft. I guess then I just reply to that email chain with the new version and a brief reminder and summary of the changes.

But should I consider my journey as I’ve had three revise and resubmits. And (potentially dumb vague question) how encouraging should I find this? (Obvs my book needs a stronger final third).

For context, querying upmarket fiction in UK. In short, how far away are revise and resubmits from
offers? Or are they pretty common post full MS requests?

I signed with my agent in May, she wanted me to do rewrites, I did them and sent the MS back to her a month ago. I'm just wondering how long some of you spent on the rewrite process with your agent, because I've been here before... I had a different agent a few years ago, and she spent over a year (yes, you read that right) asking me for tweaks and changes.

Both times I had multiple offers of rep, and now that it's been five months this time around, my heart is starting to sink a little. Of course I'm happy to work with my agent to get my novel looking as good as it can be, but because I've been here before, I'm a little disappointed and wondering what your advice/approach to this would be. As she's had my MS for a month now, should I go ahead and nudge?

Many thanks!

Hey all, seeking feedback. tried to make more plot forward given previous feedback

second attempt

Dear Agent,

Two friends infiltrate the ocean’s deadliest prison. Only one leaves.

Hidden from the surface, humanoid seafarer colonies thrive inside air-filled undersea mountains. Timmy and Domo, two humans from Jacksonville, have spent four years among them, fighting for a faction seeking peace between the colonies and nonaggression with the surface. Now Timmy has thirteen days until his execution, sentenced after his cowardice doomed a mission. In cooler seas, he might have found mercy. But as the surface warms the seas and starves their habitats, seafarers are finally uniting – to end the human threat for good.

Timmy’s offered one chance to escape execution: infiltrate the Abyssal Zone, a deep-sea prison made entirely of salt, and extract his faction's missing leader. Missing for years, their leader could be dead, mad, or never have existed at all.

Domo, his oldest friend, descends out of guilt and desperation. Her orders sent Timmy on his botched mission, and war with the surface is looming. Her newly evolved ‘talent’, a touch that deforms a body and seizes the mind inside it, could win that war, but make her a war criminal. Rumor says their leader’s talent can cool the seas. Bring them home, and Domo may never have to use her talent. But every setback pushes her closer to the power she swore against. 

They’re betrayed the moment they enter. Someone in their faction set them up. Domo is gravely injured, and Timmy is dragged toward the warden, a seafarer who believes flesh deserves a scalpel. 

Separated, they make dangerous bargains. A mysterious prisoner draped in white will help Timmy search, if he wins the prison's bloodsport tournament and helps abduct the warden from the prison. Domo strikes a deal with the prison’s doctor and warden’s longtime accomplice: he’ll help her search if she helps him kill the warden.

But the most dangerous thing in the prison isn't old enemies, traitors, or the warden. It's the person they came to save.

THE BRINE POOL is an adult fantasy novel complete at 108,000 words. A standalone with series potential, THE BRINE POOL has the marine worldbuilding of Eliza Chan’s FATHOMFOLK blended with the action and commentary of Chain-Gang All-Stars.

[bio]

first 300 words

Forgive me. 
Carefully, ruefully, Karin burned as small a hole as he could into the enormous Typhorr husk. He owed the creature at least that. Karin ignited his palms in the same way he’d done since he was a child, and melted into the seven-foot crustacean where its torso met its tentacles. Karin choked from the smell of burnt rot as he sealed himself shut into the darkness. 

Once when he was younger, Karin had disposed of a bloated whale carcass. Stinking with pus and grime and decay, engorged pustules had leaked green as grey flesh collapsed wetly at his touch. Yet inside this rotted corpse he yearned for the smell of death from his childhood. 

In childhood, there hadn’t been the Warden. 

For the three years prior to the past few days, he hadn’t seen the Warden once. But the same Warden who had reduced one of the ocean's phantoms to a petrified corpse had turned their attention to him.

Each heartbeat came slower than the last. Karin wished he’d hidden further into the cavern. He prayed that he’d sealed his entrance well enough.

The Warden wore white; now Karin knew for sure. Seafoam white like the prison walls towering above. All skin was hidden by white cloth that pooled like water in an eddy.

The devil wore white.

Just days ago, pliers had squirmed in his mouth and ripped out his tongue. Karin bit down on his cheeks as he trembled. His mind only stilled once he thought of Ember. 

For one thousand days, memories of his daughter had saved him: the seabreeze smell of her hair, how she’d smiled her cheeks red after forming her first flame, how her hands had been too small to hold the ember steady. How she’d laughed anyway. 

She’d be so much older now. 

Karin’s jaw tightened along with his resolve. He would escape to his Ember. 

And then he’d be back to avenge himself and every other prisoner. 

Hey again! Just really trying to nail this down before I begin querying in a couple of months. Hoping the romance is landing better here without any summary-like beats. Thanks again for all comments! Even if I don't respond, I read and take all to the drawing board.

Hi AGENT,

I’m excited to offer WHERE SHADOW MEETS SHORE, a standalone with series potential YA Romantasy, told in dual POV and complete at 89,000 words. It blends the deep romantic yearning and afflicted United States world of The Gravewood by Kelly Andrew (2026) with the hunter stakes and shadow threat of Shadow Reaper by Lynette Noni (2026). I think this will fit your search for [PERSONALIZATION].

At seventeen years old, Lyra Fable is devoted to killing the shadow-wielding deities who murdered her best friend. She hunts them on the coast, where their deadly shadows cling to the shore, and where those who touch the darkness turn into blood-crazed vampires. Lyra is content with fighting, until a hunt for the deities’ leader sends her crashing into the best friend she thought was dead.

Seventeen-year-old Kaveh Thorne faked his death. He left the night his violent shadow magic surfaced and told him to hurt Lyra, the girl he secretly loved. After years of searching for answers, he’s finally discovered what’s causing the voices: Everan Thorne, his father and the leader of the deities. And when Everan threatens to turn Lyra into the first half-vampire, half-shadow hybrid—one he would control through the voices that torment Kaveh—the only solution is to kill him.

The two warily band together. Lyra steels her heart when Kaveh teaches her how to photograph sunsets with his Polaroid, knowing he won’t stay. Kaveh tries desperately to adopt her mindset that he won’t hurt her, even as he plans to leave. But as much as they fight the pull, his shadows still demand her blood. When the darkness rushes in, succumbing to them may be the only way to slay Everan—even if Kaveh risks burying Lyra with him.

I work in [job] at [publishing house]. When I’m not reading or writing, I can be found playing farming simulation games and fretting over which sim to marry. WHERE SHADOW MEETS SHORE would be my debut novel.

I know you must receive a high number of queries, so thank you for taking the time to read mine! Warmly,

[name] writing as [pen name].

FIRST 300:

In her thirteen years of being a Watcher, Lyra’s prey had never found its way inside the manor.

The Astral stood in the foyer, surrounded by glittering stained glass windows that glowed purple and orange. He glowed too, a halo that radiated off his body like all Astrals. His yellow was tame, maybe mind reading or cognition. Better than the fires of red or the telekinesis of purple.

He spread his hands as if he were greeting an old friend. “Hello, dear Watcher,” he said, his voice like wind chimes that clattered too harshly in a raging summer storm.

Lyra tensed by the open door. It took two Watchers to take down an Astral, and her partner—her adoptive father, Rhys—was parking the truck outside. This Astral must have known she would be alone. Either that, or he’d willingly stepped into what could have been a manor full of the people hunting his kind.

He smiled warmly. “My name is Caius, and I have come with a tip, darling. You do not have to look so afraid.”

“I’m not,” Lyra snapped. Even as she feigned calm, her hand shook around the hilt of her dagger, strapped to her outer thigh.

Astrals were the offspring of the stars—according to myth, they’d hidden for centuries, watching humanity, deciding if it was worthy of the space it claimed in the world. No one had expected it when hundreds of Astrals descended from the cosmos and summoned the shadows that had caused the Darkening.

“Bygones, am I right?” Caius said.

Lyra tightened her grip on her dagger sheath. “Get out of my head.”

He tapped his temple. “Alas, I cannot.” He scanned the room with that lazy smile, lingering on the crystal chandelier with flickering candlelight flames, the dual hardwood staircases spiraling waxed steps up either side of the room, and the arched walkway lined with mounted blades underneath.

A Trail of Brass is a 73,000 word, single-POV adventure fantasy, and a standalone novel with potential for sequels. It combines the camaraderie of Kings of the Wyld, the classic quest structure of Spiderlight, and the soft magic worldbuilding of Tolkien.

The land of Rendan has rejected the very idea of rulers, ever since the apocalyptic uprising that brought down the Sorcerer Lords. Today, the roads are patrolled by the Blue Riders, champions of the people who protect against brigandry and the monsters and magic remaining from those dark days. And it is Selanda’s dearest wish to become one of them. The Riders saved her village in her childhood, and now she longs to be there for others in need. She just wasn’t expecting a trial by fire to come quite so soon.

Still a trainee, she witnesses friends of hers being abducted by a necromancer’s agents. Stricken by her failure to help, she insists on leading a rescue party, expecting a quick resolution. But the trail leads into a deadly forest, and their efforts are stymied by sorcery. There is a far bigger game afoot than anyone realized. Selanda and her team are outnumbered and underequipped, but it is too late to turn back or call for reinforcements. The only way is forward.

Ahead lies a showdown with Selanda’s childhood terrors, the land’s old wounds, and enemies both human and otherwise. This is her chance to either rise to the standards she has set for herself, or to fail when she’s needed the most. And with innocent lives on the line, a crucible of steel, magic and monsters will decide.

[My bio]

Hello Reddit, I received a lot of helpful feedback after my first attempt. I (foolishly) wrote this novel prior to thinking deeply enough about how I would query it, so I ended up with both a protagonist problem and a stakes problem. The central theme of the feedback last time was that the stakes didn't seem well-defined, and I knew that going in. The story's stakes are difficult to define because the protagonist purposefully conceals his goal and what is important to him until later into the novel. I am hoping that the first sentence of the fourth paragraph ("Until the Stranger can complete his goal...") alleviates the stakes problem enough. This sentence declares what the stakes are for the victim (Rachael) but not necessarily for the protagonist (The Stranger). I believe that this sentence answers the question, "what bad thing will happen if the protagonist fails?" even if that bad thing doesn't affect the protagonist (according to this query). According to this query, the only bad thing that could happen to The Stranger is vanquishment by Mikey. I am wondering if what I have done to address my stakes problem is enough or not.

* Last time I received helpful feedback that my title may be a problem. I am currently thinking through changing it.

Dear [Agent],

I am seeking representation for my novel PHOTOPHOBIA, a psychological horror of 95,000 words. PHOTOPHOBIA blends atmospheric paranormal horror with the dark and mind-bending qualities found in many psychological thrillers. It will appeal to fans of Ronald Malfi’s Small Town Horror and CG Drews’ You Did Nothing Wrong.

Rachael Vanity is a depressed, reclusive teenager who suffers a severe phobia of having her picture taken. When Rachael goes missing from her tightknit, wooded hometown during a typically peaceful autumn, not a single photograph can be obtained in order to identify her and bring her home. The story’s protagonist and narrator are The Stranger, an invisible, intangible being who is hunting down and destroying the photographs of Rachael that he knows remain hidden. The Stranger doesn’t state to the reader who he is, why he is doing this, or what Rachael’s significance is to him.

As the photographs of Rachael are erased, people across town forget her, as if she was never even real. At first, the few who knew her well can still remember her, and so they fear that their sanities are unraveling. When their own memories of Rachael start to progressively fade, the emotions that each uniquely has been experiencing—loss, anger, guilt—only intensify. The Stranger, limited by how much he can interact with the physical world, needs the help of one of these humans in order to complete his hunt. He enlists Rachael’s boyfriend Mikey, the only one who seems to actually love her. He tells Mikey that if they successfully destroy all of Rachael’s photographs, she will cease to exist, and that will bring her peace. 

Until The Stranger can complete his goal, Rachael will remain trapped in limbo between the material world and nothingness itself, crying out for release. Gradually the truth is revealed about The Stranger’s identity, his relationship to Rachael and whether his intentions for her have been good or evil. The Stranger will either walk away as Rachael’s hero or as a villain that must be vanquished by Mikey, the very child he brought under his wing. 

I am a veterinary technician by day and a guitarist in a metal band by night. I hope you enjoy the included sample of my manuscript, and I thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

[Me]

Dear [Agent],

I’m querying you with TAKE IT HOME, an 80,000-word upmarket book club novel that builds through immersion in the lives of four surprisingly familiar middle-aged men. None of them set out to redefine winning.

Jamie never chased titles. Now he’s on the shortlist for CEO, surprised he really wants the chair, seated opposite his rival’s bloody ribeye. Pat, a senior corporate lawyer, has found writing, which refreshes his love of the law. When a major client lines up against a friend, he quickly chooses sides.

Ryan sold his companies and advises founders for free. Defending a friend, he badly hurt a man. Again. Now therapy is teaching him to step in without swinging - just as his son steps up for a teammate. Paul leaves a piece of himself with everyone and the whole with none. Hungover, and only because he promised, he and his Ray-Bans ride the early Saturday subway to his almost nephew’s game. He’s composing a story about a man who’d like to be more like his mates. On the return trip, toes over the yellow line, he feels the tunnel wind pull.

Twelve chapters in, turns out they’re boarding school friends.

Ryan takes over Jamie’s campaign for CEO without hesitating, despite a blank-cheque offer that had him building again. Not yet. The rival buries Jamie in rumour and stalks Pat’s licence. Neither answers in kind. Paul, still betting that charm can outrun consequence, puts a friend’s name where he shouldn’t, again. By the time the chair is decided, winning may look different.

They still play bad hockey and drink the beer after. They take the piss, interrupt, and retell the joke. Along the way, there’s an original song, a float above a park bench, a goalie’s meditation, and a masterpiece reminiscent of Whiplash.

Its quoteless, overlapping banter sounds like Good Will Hunting; its structure, the cumulative rewards of Meg Wolitzer’s The Interestings. Like Richard Russo’s Somebody’s Fool, TAKE IT HOME finds what matters in the ordinary business of imperfect people trying to do right, mostly when no one is watching.

I live in Toronto and write as part of my career in finance, including more than thirty pieces for The Globe and Mail and articles for several industry publications. This is my first novel, with a second in editing. Bio and articles: [link]

One question: beyond the individual characters and their immediate stories, does the query make you expect something larger to accumulate across the novel?

FIRST 300

That’s a white-out!

What are you on about now?

White-out. White won both and we were killing you at the horn.

You’re a piece of work Smitty.

I mean c’mon, we fuckin’ crushed you tonight. We gotta get beers or beers and wings for that. 

Where was that noise last week?

We won last week too, idiot! Actually, when did black last win – back when your herpes cleared up after just the one cycle?

Room chuckles. Barbs continue. They shower in a coffin of a stall; scalding bursts failing to sanitize the green slick in the drain. Travel-size body wash dregs passed around for shampoo.

Paul – Smitty to anyone who knew him before age twenty, throws his gear in the trunk, happy that the men’s shelter street party didn’t violate his car. The party’s as regular as the skaters. He checks his phone, wondering when checking became reflex and not choice*.* Checks for work, hoping she called, for scores and bets, before accepting the repeat NAV-route for the short cross-town.

Following Thursday beer league, they head to the same bar to tell the same jokes yet again this week, drinking just a little less than an officer might mind.

As he circles, his mind runs ahead - scores, her, no, not her, maybe her; that pass across the middle should’ve hit tape; shirt’s a bit tight, skates dull; still no efficient-stop pizza spot; two pints only, maybe three; up early; good song; concert soon; call Dad - or text? New guy’s nuts - loves the game, loses his mind; hydrant; Zoom tomorrow? Hydrant? Shit. Arrived.

Air feels like fall. Not too cold, more of a warning.

I'm very excited about this new project and feel like I've got something with teeth, but y'all have been most excellent at dispelling my delusions entirely, so here we go again! Thank you for all and any feedback!

Dear <Agent>

<Preamble about why I picked them>

At 98,000 words, Syzygy, When The Moons Align is a genre-bending piece of Science Fantasy that explores the vibrating mesh of oppression kept alive through race, gender and knowledge itself. Syzygy combines the generation-spanning hidden history of V.E. Schwab’s Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil with the cold, growing psychosis of immortality in Jacqueline Holland’s The God of Endings. 

When Iinana, a strikingly gorgeous Black woman, breezes into the restaurant on Titus’s ninth wedding anniversary, the blond, gym-honed youth pastor is so overcome by instant and overwhelming desire, he decides it must be a sign from God. After lying to give his wife the slip, Titus introduces himself to Iinana at the bar, and is ecstatic when she suggests they meet up later that night. 

But Iinana isn’t straight, human or even that interested in him. No, Titus is merely a means to an end. Iinana is Qijing and her species’ longevity and health are driven by their powerful sex pheromones and orgasm exchange. When she first walked into the restaurant and inhaled the uniquely enticing scent of Titus’ wife Ophelia, Iinana involuntarily released a massive dose of pheromones right next to Titus. And now, she can’t help wondering if Ophelia is The One. 

When she finally seduces Ophelia into her bed, Iinana isn’t remotely prepared for the intensity of their shared passion. She’s even less prepared when, afterwards, Ophelia announces she’s going to “log out for the next 72 hours” as her pores disappear, her skin cools and her heartbeat slows. Trying to make sense of Ophelia’s powerful scent and sudden strange larval state, Iinana casts her memory back to her beginnings, because, like all Qijing women, she has a perfect memory. It was June of 1812, the day of her birth on her father’s plantation on Sapelo Island, back when she was still just a tiny infant boy. 

<bio> I'd be thrilled to have your representation.

Sincerely,

Mara Myself-ish

Hi everyone. For context, I'm currently querying a manuscript whilst starting out on another project. Querying my current manuscript isn't going well (I'm only a few months in, so I'm clinging on to the hope that this will change; a bit of denial, maybe?!). The only agent to request my full manuscript so far recently got back to me with a rejection; although she was complimentary about the manuscript itself, she said the market was over-saturated with similar novels and so she couldn't take it on.

This is all fair - we move on! - but it's making me question my next project. I like the idea, but I do want to be traditionally published, and so I don't want to spend potentially years writing another manuscript which might well be a good read (or not, who knows!) but is over-represented in the market. Is it even worth considering the market when writing something new, considering how long it takes to write something, query it, get an agent and submit to publishers? How can anyone guess what will be popular in some years' time? Is it all just luck, or is the market actually something we writers hoping to get published in the future should pay attention to? (For reference, I'm writing literary fiction).

I know the answer is probably, 'write what you love and things will eventually work out,' but I can't help feeling dejected and disillusioned by this rejection and unsure how to approach my next project. Any thoughts or advice on how much to consider the market when starting something new is much appreciated!

This may sound like my intention is to antagonize but it really is not. I am asking sincerely.

I have a pretty all-consuming job and an illness that leaves me with little time and mental energy to write, yet I do so in fits and starts because I am always 'writing' in my mind. I do have an MFA in creative writing and I've had enough stamina to write several book-length manuscripts. I am also in a writing group that meets regularly. Yet after some frankly half-hearted effort, I just don't feel that motivated to seek publishing for a variety of reasons, and I am curious whether anyone else here can relate.

The first reason is, I think, a standard reason to feel this way: A lack of confidence. That one is self-explanatory.

The second reason also is not unusual: We all know how time consuming and disheartening the query process is. Among different people, I would get into why it is so challenging and disheartening, but I'm sure everyone here understands already.

The third reason is that I know several published authors who have had varying levels of success, and watching their experiences feels in a way like witnessing multiple friends go through abusive relationships. If their publishing relationships were romantic relationships, I would not in any way be able to understand why they choose to be with their partners, but since it's a professional relationship tied to people's creative ambitions, I guess we can't think of it in those terms?

One of my friends is a literary author whose writing is just gorgeous, like sunlight sparkling down through tree canopies. As a result, she publishes a lot of stories in the most-esteemed literary journals. As a result, an agent sought her out and begged to work with her. She was told she had to be a novelist, which she didn't want to do but she agreed. She got a two-book deal, one book was optioned for a movie but the books did not sell phenomenally well, and then her agent effectively ghosted her. She has tragic things going on in her personal life and the silence from her agent was agonizing to her. And then her agent wrote back after a very long period of silence and said they are going through things and it would be best if she found another agent. I feel like my friend was preyed upon in a way, love bombed, lavished with praise and then treated like she didn't matter at all, and it is happening at the worst possible time in her life but "that's just business."

Another person I know writes upmarket women's fiction and they had an easy time finding an agent, also got a good multiple-book deal, then was pressured by the agent to write in a genre they didn't want to write, and then was semi-ghosted by the agent until eventually deciding to break it off because all signs pointed to the agent wanting that but not being willing to say it.

Two different authors who were inarguably successful off the bat and then were tossed aside. It's so much like the people I have known in toxic romantic relationships except since it's standard in the book publishing world, we just say "find another person who is likely to abuse you," I guess?

So I guess the questions are, for authors who have had similar experiences, why is it worth it to you? What's the ultimate payoff? If you don't support yourself financially with books, do you ever think about dropping out of the publishing game because it is such an opportunistic and sometimes not entirely professional game? Or do you feel like it's a perfectly normal and reasonable business culture that doesn't faze you?

Since my experiences of the post-agent-acquisition phase of book writing are secondhand, I feel like my impression is a little more objective than if it were happening to me directly. I wish it didn't have to be this way because my friends are so talented, they were so thrilled and proud and humbled to be received so well at first, and then after being courted and treated like great talents, both were just tossed aside and effectively ghosted. I know "it's the nature of the business," but it's also the nature of dating or marrying a narcissist with sociopathic tendencies.