Sent off query packets yesterday, in keeping with my New Year’s writing resolutions, though the stack was one lighter than planned. There’s a reason for my negligence.

On Friday night, a friend mentioned his roommate lost her job recently, because the company shelved the entire division without warning. Which hurts. She worked for a publisher based in NYC. Forwarding her resume on to someone I knew was looking for her skill set, I noticed she not only once worked at the literary agency I planned to query on Monday, but directly with my first choice agent.

To my delight, my friend’s roommate agreed to take a look at a 15 page excerpt of The Last Track. Maybe I’ll gain some insight on the selection processes at that agency, or receive a bit of feedback about how the pages read cold. Either could be helpful.

Which reinforces my belief that there are very few coincidences in life.

Readied envelopes today with excerpts of The Last Track inside them. When dealing with unsolicited queries, literary agencies maintain their own requirements for tackling submissions. For now my focus involves contacting those that consider excerpts along with queries. The main caveat: among those that consider the first 5-30 pages cold, virtually all require a synopsis of the book, including the ending.

In the past, my hangups made the synopsis stipulation a sticking point. The notion of revealing the ending at the outset is anathema to my nature; however, I realized the obstacle is self-constructed and inhibiting. I don’t worry about being ripped off, because the odds are infinitesimal. Yeah, good luck reconstructing 400 pages working from a 10 page sample in any kind of timely fashion. No, I mourn losing a chance to earn a reader’s trust over the course of the story, then ripping the rug out from beneath them at the last minute. Never can the book deliver the same impact for someone who knows ending in advance. Ack.

But then, literary agents do not strike me as a lot who enjoy surprises. When picking clients, I rather imagine they hate surprises, in fact.

Thus, I enclosed the 2.5 page synopsis.

Now all I need are stamps.

Had my final feedback review phone call for The Last Track Thursday night, and wrapped the edits up ten minutes ago, ticking off one more item in preparation for a Monday tactical strike. At this point, all that remains is to comb through the first fifty pages–the standard partial manuscript request. Beyond this Saturday, I have no plans to touch the story again unless it’s a condition for representation or a check.

Besides a scene that just might serve the story better a few chapters earlier, I’m comfortable with the content. A concern of such minor consequence at this point is tolerable, when I like what’s on the page enough to let go of the little things. In whole, the Final Three readers made great contributions to the manuscript and I can not imagine rowing through the revision process solo. Collective styled reviews add too much value to forsake them.

One reader’s suggestions resuscitated a very brief–yet critical–scene near the end, elevating it from almost, but a little too much cheese in that omelet. Another developed such an uncanny feel for the characters, they etched an alternate dialog tract in the margin, which was not only pretty damn good, worked better than what I had.

Definitely will tap on these three shoulders again. Oh yes, I shall.

So for everyone sick of hearing about the novel, a respite is coming. Tuesday marks a new era: more movie reviews, an occasional bit about The Confession, and a periodic check-in with my New Years resolutions. And some humor. I feel like laughing lately. Might take Oedipus out of his carrier.

As the launch of Project GetRep–the search for an agent–approaches, an analogy my grandfather shared ten years ago on a fishing trip never seemed more appropriate.

My grandfather grew up in a working class, largely German and Irish neighborhood in the Midwest. One day in high school, a good friend of his seated in the next desk voiced an epiphany. “I figured out how to marry a rich girl!”

“How’s that?” My grandfather asked.

“Never date a poor one.”

True story. Years later, his pal wed a wealthy girl–a direct heir to the largest construction firm in the state. The parallel struck me this weekend while combing the hit list of agents. In so far as a marriage is not the same thing as a business relationship, from a distance the precept is similar. If I want a great agent, the logical place to look is at the quality agencies with track records for closing deals. People who rep the sort of novels that land world rights and movie options.
By my accounting, approximately fifty US based literary agents consider thrillers and meet the above criteria. Rain makers. The sort of people who Get Things Done. For the balance of the 2007, they are the market for The Last Track.

In other words, there are no plans to solicit a poor one.