Author: Writer guy

NYC never looked so good…part II

Writer guy

I’m falling towards the Jersey shore at 120 mph. Wind thrashes at my body, like some possessed invisible force.

At 9,000 feet the jump master gives the thumbs up and I do the first parachute check test. Anything that changes the angle of deflection of air over my body will affect the stability and direction of the freefall. So to complete a practice reach for the ripcord without causing a wild turn, I pivot my left hand towards my temple at the same time I reach down and to the right. My left wrist locks 2 inches above my head, while my right hand touches the orange plastic knob.

All clear. Returning to a full arch, my arms assume the Jesus Christ pose again.

“Altimeter – 8,000!” I yell, loud enough that it pierces the din.

“Heading!” The second PCT check passes without a hitch. “7,500!”

Locking on a heading in the distance, I turn right, and then back to center.

“Arch – Heading – 7,000!”I start the left turn, locking on another object. This maneuver is bit choppier, but under control and soon enough I’m back at center.

Textbook so far, but I’m about to make a mistake that could have been fatal.

NYC never looked so good

Writer guy

The jumpmaster unlatches the lock and opens the bay door of the Cessna 182. Wind roars through the cabin like a hurricane. Outside, the prop hums like a low pitched buzzer, relentless. There’s two inches of air between us and 10,500 foot descent. It’s the sort of day jumpers dream of: an unlimited ceiling, moderate to light winds, and a crystal clear view spanning more than thirty miles in every direction. The only speck of white below are breakers gnashing into the Jersey shore.

I pull my goggles over my helmet, covering my glasses securely.

It’s time.

“Are you ready to sky dive?” That’s the question the jump master bellows.

“Yes, sir!” I boom back. With twenty-two years teaching Army Rangers, Spec Ops and other airborne units how to jump, firing back with anything less than an equal intensity will mean push ups after the debriefing. I hate push-ups.

“Then let’s sky dive!”

The railing over the wheel of a 182 is wide, yet stout, and maintaining balance is easier than I expect, even into 120 mph winds. I point my toe towards the wing tip. Over my left shoulder comes the all clear from the jump master.

We break away from the plane and barrel heads down through nothingness.

“Arch, arch, arch, breathe!” I yell. Instinctively following the vocal prompts, my body thrusts out at the hips, resembling a banana from the side.

Three seconds later, I’m stable and dropping 1000 feet every 5.5 seconds.

I have thirty seconds to live the rest of my life.

Arch, arch, arch, breathe!

Writer guy

Back on the submission horse I climb, sending off a new round of queries for The Last Track. I will now–unless one extends an offer of representation before December, that is–easily reach my resolution of pitching the project to fifty agents this year, though a higher final total for 2007 is quite possible.

A few factors sharply curtailed response times, while boosting the numbers of request for material over my previous efforts, and reducing the number of never-bothered-to-respond replies. More importantly, I felt a lot better about the process.

1) Letting go of the pages. I severed all expectations an agent will ever mail back a manuscript, or a partial request for material, even should I include sufficient postage for its return. Therefore I do not send another envelope for this purpose. These pages are going somewhere after sending them off, but wherever that is, they ain’t coming back to me.

2) Enclosing a self-sealing SASE envelope for a reply. No, a SASE will not cut it. Agents and interns do not want to lick 10,000 sticky strips of glue shut. They do not want to keep dabbing a sponge in water to close envelopes and mucking up their copy of Publisher’s Weekly, or worse, their cocaine. All they want is that letter gone and off their desk so they can move on to the other 9,999. Make it frightfully easy for them for them to reply, and odds are the response–whatever it may be–will come faster.

3) Query letter. Has to be tight, tight, tight with a great hook. Run it by a few dozen people and listen to their feedback. Sleep on it. Then revise again. Fortunately, these letters are brief, so writing an effective one takes a lot less time than getting the manuscript right.

A few shifts in my approach increased the response rate for manuscripts from less than 60 percent for The Ridge Runner to nearly 80 percent for The Last Track with a turnaround averaging six weeks. Remember, that’s a fully manual process and includes round trips to their office and back to me via the United States Postal Service. Requests for The Last Track are running about 15 percent, well above average and higher than for The Ridge Runner.