Testing My Patience - Part Three

A writer's journey toward traditional publication

Post Three — To Whom It May Concern

Let me tell you the first mistake I nearly made when I decided to seek traditional publication.

I nearly wrote the query letter first.

I had a finished novel, a vague understanding that something called a query letter needed to exist, and an entirely natural impulse to start writing immediately.

Then someone asked me a rather profound question. Who are you sending it to?

I had absolutely no answer.

Here is something nobody tells you when you're sitting at your desk in Newport with a finished manuscript and a growing sense that something needs to happen next.

There are thousands of literary agents operating worldwide. Hundreds in the UK alone. Hundreds more in the United States — which for reasons I'll explain in a future post is where Clonfert is heading first.

Every single one of them is different.

Different tastes. Different lists. Different authors they already represent. Different gaps they're actively trying to fill. Different submission requirements. Some accepting queries right now. Some closed. Some representing exclusively commercial fiction. Some only literary. Some with a deep interest in Irish historical narratives. Some who wouldn't know what to do with Clonfert if it arrived gift wrapped.

I didn't consider any of this.

I do now.

So before my letter goes anywhere I need to make a list first.

Lists. Not a great strength of mine if I'm honest. But this one is vital.

A shortlist of agents — twenty to thirty to start with — who represent literary fiction. Who have handled dual timeline narratives. Who have shown interest in Irish historical themes. Who represent authors I've cited as the kind of writers Clonfert sits alongside. Who are actively open to submissions right now.

Every name on that list needs to be there for a reason. Not because they're famous. Not because they appeared first in a search engine. Because something in their history — the authors they've championed, the books they've sold, the interviews they've given about what they're currently looking for — suggests that Clonfert might be exactly the kind of novel they've been waiting to read.

I'm learning that there's a tool called QueryTracker. Free to use. Used by writers worldwide. It maps the landscape — who represents what, their response rates, their current submission status, what other writers have experienced when approaching them. It's where my research is starting.

I'm also learning about acknowledgements pages.

This one I genuinely hadn't considered. Open any novel similar to yours. Turn to the acknowledgements. Find where the author thanks their agent. That agent believed in a book like yours once. They may well be looking for another.

I've started doing this. It feels slightly like detective work. I don't hate it.

Only when the list exists — when I know exactly who I'm talking to and why — does the letter get written properly.

Because a query letter is not a general introduction to your novel. It's a specific conversation with a specific person about why this book belongs on their list.

It has five components — a hook, a story paragraph, comparison titles, an author biography, and a closing paragraph explaining why this particular agent is the right home for this particular book. That last part gets rewritten fresh for every single submission.

Mine is written. It's sitting in a folder on my desktop alongside the manuscript.

I'm not sharing the full letter here. Not yet. That document belongs to the submission process and the submission process hasn't started. If the day comes when an agent reads it and a door opens — I'll publish it in full right here with the full story of how that happened.

What I will say is this.

The tagline that opens it came from a private note I wrote for myself the moment I finished the final chapter. I wrote it for no one. Just to catch what I'd made before it slipped away.

It took one hundred and eighty years to heal the source.

That line is now the first thing every agent will read.

A note on the date.

September 10th.

I've been asked why that specific date. Why not now. Why not next month.

The practical answer is straightforward. The agent list needs building properly. Twenty to thirty names researched individually. Current submission status checked. Recent deals noted. Specific requirements understood. That takes time and it should take time. The formal synopsis still needs writing — the complete story, ending included, the document that exists solely for agent eyes. The sample pages need to be exactly right. Six to eight weeks to do all of that properly is not delay. It's due diligence.

There's also a strategic reason. Summer is a slow period in publishing. Agents are at conferences, on holiday, working through backlogs. September is when the industry properly wakes back up. Landing in a query inbox in September gets more attention than landing there in July.

But honestly — those are the sensible reasons. The real reason is simpler.

September 10th 1845 — Brigid Moynahan picks up her pen in Newmarket, County Cork.

September 10th 2025 — Erin opens her back door in Paxton, Illinois.

September 10th 2026 — Clonfert goes out into the world.

The date the novel begins is the date the submission begins.

I'm a carpenter. I believe in things fitting properly.

This fits.

The list is being built.

The letter is ready.

September 10th is the date the first submissions go out.

It's also the date the novel begins.

Not a coincidence.

— Steve