#queryfail, or the art of hearing criticism

Queryfail happened yesterday on Twitter. It was, essentially, a day in the lives of several writer's agents and publishers, going through their mail for the day, and talking/tweeting about where they stopped reading and why.

Real-time, gut-level critiques are the hardest to hear. They're the shake of the head at a cattle call, the "too fat" or "walks funny" or "why is she even here? who sent her? fire him!" You know they don't want you, and that's all you know. Oh, wait – you also know that no one of any sense or taste would ever, in a million years, want you for any endeavour whatsoever and you really should just find someplace out of the way to die, where your insignificant carcass won't inconvenience anyone else.

Hopefully, by the time you've begun answering cattle calls, you've picked up some decent armour against that sort of thing. Maybe in acting classes or workshops, somewhere. Because honestly, none of that stuff has anything to do with you. Seriously. It's all about what the hiring people need, and the fastest way to get from where they are (stagefull of prospectives) to where they want to be (hit show running for ten years to sell-out crowds). They have to go with their gut feelings, and it's never gonna be pretty.

Enquiries addressed to an agent or a publisher are not all that different from a cattle call. The main difference is you're not right there when they say 'no'. So you don't see it when your slaved-over letter gets a quick once-over and toss into the not-for-me-today pile. You don't know why it didn't do the cornucopia party trick, if it was your letter had on the weird eyeliner and the coloured tights, or if the reader was looking for something particular that day and your letter just wasn't that thing.

Sometimes, it's because your stuff, your writing, your presentation, is not very good. Writing is a craft, like drawing or painting or acting. You can get better with practice. You can get better at it if you pay mindful attention to what other people say when confronted with your work, especially those whose own livelihoods are dependent on you doing your bit. All those agents or publishers, to whom you've sent your introductory missive, are not in it for the pleasure of smacking you into own-goal territory. It's their job to pick works that they can then sell, with a glad heart and a song on their lips. They can't afford the time or energy in promoting works for which they would not suit up in the tiltyard.

Queryfail was/is a real-time illustration of that process of picking and choosing. Incipient novels and stories were passed over for both good and bad reasons, for values of "good" that included "ignored guidelines" and "bad" that included "strange author name or title", which really work out to "not right for me today." Which is itself a valid reason.

A friend of mine once said of critiques, that there were only three things to consider. The first being, 'Is this true?' If it isn't, then you are done right there. You've had the bad luck to run into an agent or producer on an off day. It happens.

The second thing is, 'Is this something I want to change?' If not, go on doing whatever you're doing precisely as you have been, and continue looking for a backer who values whatever it is.

The last thing holds only if the first two try out positive: What they said of your work is correct and you do want to change along those lines. Only then do you need to spend time and effort in analysing the critique with a view toward putting it into action.

The value of QueryFail day is in its window into that acceptance/rejection process. Not so much in how to avoid obvious pitfalls, anyone with sense can work out how to meet submission guidelines, but in the opportunity to see the raw decision-making process in action, without being prettied up or massaged for a brochure. It's not a lot different from how you pick a place for lunch: does it meet minimum standards, do I like the menu, will my friends like it?

It's just how people decide to do stuff.