There oughta be a pill…
…for authors suffering from “premature submitculation.” What symptoms does the author present with this particular affliction?
- Huge Word Counts – I confess that when I see a query letter whose manuscript boasts a 150,000 word count, this is grounds for an automatic rejection. Authors oughta know better than to allow their story to get that big. Maybe there are two distinct stories trying to reside between one cover or there are 50,000 words of disposable fluff. I don’t know – figure it out and fix it.
- The Whine Zone – Another confession; I grit my teeth when I have an author call me and ask if they can submit their first 100 pages because, well, the story really heats up on page 75. Argh! Can you hear my intestines folding in on themselves? If the first chapter doesn’t grab me – okay, I’ll be totally honest – if the first few pages don’t grab me, there is no compelling reason to continue turning the pages unless I feel the plot is so whiz bang that I’m willing to give it a bit of wiggle room. But I have to put myself into the head of the reader/buyer at all times, and I know good and well the customer will put the book back on the shelf if those first few pages don’t grab them. And you want me to read to page 75? Argh! If you don’t feel confident that your ms grabs readers at the very beginning, you need to take serious stock of your work. And your writing ability.
- Query Letter – Yeah, yeah, I blather on about this topic a lot. But I can’t stress enough the importance of an effective query letter. This is the face of your manuscript. A writer could have the coolest story ever, and if he isn’t capable of communicating that story in one or two whiz bang paragraphs, then that coolest story ever will remain inside their desk. If you send me a poorly constructed query letter with a confusing pitch, I’ll more than likely not ask to see pages. I’ll just send out a rejection letter.
- “This is my first draft” (I know I can do better) – ARGH!! If you know you can do better, then keep your manuscript and DO better. Don’t send it to me. I’m not your margarita-slurping Auntie Bertha who is willing to read your work through a tequila haze. I’m not Mom who, of course, loves everything you do. I’m a business woman who reads for a living. I see lots of incredible work whose sheer brilliance brings tears to my eyes. That’s your competition. Along this same line, don’t ask if you can send me a new draft after you’ve already sent me pages. I always go on the assumption that work crossing my desk is the final version. Don’t “whoops” me. If you have done revisions, keep it to yourself. If I like the work and contact you, then you may tell me you’ve revised the work. I may look at you cross eyed, but, well, you did get my attention, so I’m willing to forgive you. Sorta.
- “I just finished this!” – This is the not-so-distant cousin to “This is my first draft.” This is the brand-spanking new author who banged out a story and deemed it ready for the world. It’s quasi-understandable. They’re excited about what they created and are eager to start submitting. It’s the validation that they created something marketable. But most times they haven’t because they jumped the gun. They didn’t give the manuscript time to age, like fine wine, they didn’t do any market research to analyze their competitors, they didn’t give it to a wide list of beta readers. Important Note: Manuscripts are not submit-ready while the words are still steaming on the page and your fingers are still smokin’. Walk away from your work and let everything cool down. It’s like the time I bought those Ferragamos. Upon waking the next morning, I gasped at the receipt. “What the hell was I thinking?”
- “Dear Editor” – Ok, that gets my goat. Right, wrong, or indifferent, I really detest being addressed as “Dear Editor.” It’s akin to be called “Hey You! Editor Lady!” My name is clearly marked in our submission guidelines, so there’s no need for confusion. This irks me as much as those who don’t take the time to read our guidelines to see what kind of work we’re seeking.
I know there are other symptoms to Premature Submitculation, but these are the big ticket items that cause me to take a fraction of a nanosecond to reach for a form rejection letter.
The cure is to turn off your computer and lie down on the beach with a box of Twinkies. Go out and play volleyball with the man-meat of your choice. Have lunch with your best bud. Have your dog walk you on the bike path. After a month, go back and review your work. And research the industry. Never stop learning. After all, this is a world in which you’d like to reside. Make sure you’ve built a strong house.
*I admit it, I kept the shoes.











