If you've been waiting for an update about my publishing journey, here it is:
It has been about 10 weeks since I last sent a query letter to a literary agent (8-10 weeks is roughly the time a writer will wait to hear a response) and since I've heard nothing back, I'm going to assume I've been rejected... again. *Insert crowd's visible disappointment here*:
Honestly, this rejection stung a lot more than the last.
Why? Let me tell you...
This specific agent has a system called QueryTracker that will automatically email you updates about your query and whether or not it has been read. When I submitted it, I got an email saying, "Yay! Thanks for your interest! Your query has officially been submitted." And then, every time I requested an update, I got an email that said, "Your query has not been read by the agent yet. Please wait approximately six weeks for a response."
I liked that system because it made me feel like I hadn't been forgotten; that my story mattered...
That was until 10 weeks went by and I was still getting emails saying that my query hadn't been read yet. I thought to myself, "Well, that can't be right. Someone has to have read it by now!" So I went digging, and I found out through a representative of that literary agency that the specific agent I had submitted to had received over 300 queries, read 12, then approved one.
That's right. She accepted one... out of 12... out of 300; 288 of which she didn't even look at.
Yeah. Let that sink in for a moment. It stung a little when I found that out, too.
I'm hoping that she'll read my query eventually, so I'm cautiously telling myself that I technically haven't been rejected (yet). In the meantime, I've been trying to focus my time on writing different stories, including Kneel Before Us (the sequel to Kill the Gods) and Beautiful Endings (I promise you'll read the end of that short story eventually).
However, the only writing I've done in the last month that I actually enjoyed reading back to myself was a small blurb about Cyra and Res, set long before Kill the Gods took place. I've been toying with the idea of eventually writing a prologue novel to Kill the Gods, so I thought I might share a piece of what that book might look like.
Like always, let me know what you think! And remember: all of my work is copyrighted.
Excerpt from the Kill the Gods Prologue
By Kelsey Gatis
Sweat dripped down our faces in beaded droplets. Soil felt like grit under my nails as I wiped my wrist across my forehead, leaving a swipe of brown. The sound of shovels echoed for miles around me—thousands of men all doing the same thing: digging. Endlessly. In the rain, where the dirt became mud that marred us and our sins.
The trench would not come easily. It would span across all of Prathia, circling it like a snake with its tail in its mouth. Nadnea claimed that one day after the war was won (because, yes, we would undoubtedly win), they would build a wall overtop of its place.
The trench itself would be filled with the bodies of the heretics we slew.
Res looked up at me from behind his stringy hair, wet with sweat and water. He was pale under shadows of overcast, more so than usual, so that his skin appeared almost translucent.
He smiled. Voice hoarse, he said, “Tired already?”
“We’ve only been digging for three days straight.” Indeed, when the other men were shuffled out to the camp where they’d sleep on groups of cots and eat gruel for dinner, Res and I remained here. Digging. The men whispered that we did not sleep or eat—had no reason to stop, for we did not tire.
That was untrue. We were exhausted. And hungry. And I’d just about cook and eat Res at that point if I thought he’d taste any good. It was the gods who made us stay, like we were some strange display of their power—how they had pets who would work to fulfil their orders day and night. That was what the other men called us—the gods’ pets. Apparently, the term “slaves” was too good for us.
I really hoped that nickname didn’t catch on.
Res stopped shovelling for a moment, craning his neck to ensure all the others were preoccupied with their digging so as not to notice us. He stepped towards me, wiping his mud-caked hands on his leather armour.
It didn’t do anything to clean them.
He reached into a pocket over his left breast, pulling out a small canteen of water, and extended it to me.
I took it gratefully, pressing the spout to my lips, nearly sighing when the cool liquid touched my tongue. I downed three massive gulps, then handed it back.
“Drink more, or you’ll die of dehydration, and I’ll be burying you here in these trenches instead,” Res grumbled. He leaned against his shovel, propping himself up. There were purple smudges under his eyes. He looked worn and grey and tired, but he smiled at me like we were somewhere else altogether—somewhere nice, where the sun shone, and birds chirped. It was out of place; that smile didn’t belong in war. But it appeared that nothing could break his spirits.
“I’ve been thinking,” I started, taking another sip, “that we should ask Nadnea permission to sleep tonight. I don’t think I can keep going like this. I could also really use a bath.” Needless to say, I felt about as clean as an earthworm.
“There are no baths, love. Believe me, I checked. They don’t even wash the food before they eat it out here.” He paused, looking skyward at thick grey clouds—where the gods were rumoured to be watching us. Rain poured down from them like tears. “And why ask? You know she’ll say no. Honestly, her chances of knowing we stopped digging are slimmer than her saying yes. We could just go to bed right now, and no one would be any the wiser.”
“You believe that?” I finally handed him back the canteen, watching him drink from it instead.
When he pulled it away from his lips, he sighed. “I don’t know. But at this point, I think even a beating is better than this.”
I chuckled (even though that probably wasn’t meant to be funny) and reached out to grab his shoulder. The mud made his leathers slick, and my fingers nearly slid off, but I held firm. “You know what I really want right now?”
“Sefian,” we both said at the same time, then laughed. This earned us a few glares from the other men, but we hardly noticed.
“I’m afraid there’s no dessert in war, my love,” Res said, wiping his one eye so that mud was smeared around it in pasty circles.
“Get it for me anyway.”
“I would if I could.” He kissed my forehead, then straightened himself. “It’s settled then. At nightfall, we stop digging. If Nadnea is tempted to punish us, so be it.”
***
Writing a prologue novel to Kill the Gods seems like a very interesting idea to me, and gets me excited enough to write that I put off all of my university homework (sorry, Brock).
Hopefully you enjoyed reading a little bit about Cyra and Res and their lives before the plot of Kill the Gods takes place (I'm the kind of person that loves a good backstory).
If you're confused at all about what was happening in this excerpt, make sure to check out my Kill the Gods page (located under my blog posts tab on the website) to read up on everything you need to know about Cyra and Res.
As for being rejected for a second time by a literary agent... I guess that just means it's time to find a new agent to submit my book to.
Yours truly,
Kelsey Gatis
Comments