My Query That Worked

My agent search took me far and wide, high and low.  How far, wide, high and low? Let's just say I was beginning to worry my name might be code for "thatgirlwhowillnotgethepointnomatterhowoftenwetellherno." Luckily, it only takes one "yes," but the long trail of "no's" in my wake brought me into contact with some really awesome people, who know how to say "no" nicely.

I thought it might be helpful to share my query for Not A Drop to Drink, the one that finally helped me land that agent!

Mindy's Query That Wouldn't Be Nearly So Awesome Without the Agent Query Community:

Lynn was nine the first time she killed to defend the pond. Seven years later, violence is her native tongue in a time when an ounce of fresh water is worth more than gold and firewood equals life during bitter rural winters. Death wanders the countryside in many forms: thirst, cholera, coyotes, and the guns of strangers.

Mother and Lynn survive in a lawless land, where their once comfortable home serves as stronghold and lookout. Their basement is a lonely fortress; Father disappeared fighting the Canadians for possession of Lake Erie, the last clean body of water in an overpopulated land. The roof offers a sniper’s view of their precious water source – the pond.  Ever vigilant, they defend against those who stream from the sprawling cities once they can no longer pay the steep prices for water. Mother’s strenuous code of self-sufficiency and survival leaves no room for trust or friendships; those wishing for water from the pond are delivered from their thirst not by a drink, but a bullet. Even their closest neighbor is a stranger who Lynn has only seen through her crosshairs.

Smoke rises from the east, where a starving group of city refugees are encamped by the stream. A matching spire of smoke can be seen in the south, where a band of outlaws are building a dam to manipulate what little water is left.

When Mother dies in a horrific accident, Lynn faces a choice - defend her pond alone or band together with her crippled neighbor, a pregnant woman, a filthy orphan, and Finn - the teenage boy who awakens feelings she can't figure out.

Treadmill of Death and Other Stories

So I have a treadmill now, despite a horrific accident roughly four years ago that resulted in my brother-in-law saving my life as I sped backward, and an awkward entanglement of limbs at family Christmas.  This treadmill is much less devious than that one, and since we've now established a relationship that doesn't require me casting a suspicious eye on it as I run, I'm free to indulge in listening to an audiobook, or... a podcast.

I found a great series - Meet the Author - on iTunes free podcasts.  There are some big names on there, in nice little one-sitting interviews that you can tune into while exercising, walking the dog, or lying comatose on your couch (as long as you prefer your comatose periods to be short lived).  It's free advice from people who know what they're doing - check it out!

A Talent Crush and Some Librarian Humor

So it's really a Tuesday.  The kind of Tuesday that tries to convince you that it's Monday, and lovely Wednesday is not one sleep away.  And in the midst of this Tuesdayness, I get a big 'ol box of happy - in librarian speak - a book order came in.  And now I get to touch them, and smell them, tell them that I love them, and make them mine (with a stamp, lest you misinterpret).

Of course the one that is truly mine isn't here... it's out on submission, waiting to see if it will ever get to be here - or any other librarian's desk, for that matter.  And so, in paging through the pile of happy, looking for certain four letter words, body parts (euphemisms included), and always the word "bed" - 'cause any scene that has that word in the opening paragraph, I probably need to be aware of - I often come across some awesome writing that makes me go - DAMMIT!  Why didn't I think of that?

Stupid talent crushes, making me feel all inadequate.

Dostoevsky also makes me feel inadequate, but that's a given.

But I'm quickly saved from a dark mood of "Mindy Will Never Be Published, Her Inadequacy Knows No Bounds," by some really awful, quite terrible, librarian humor.  Ms. District Librarian and I have a bit of a competition going to see who can make the worst jokes... we're about nine years into it with no clear winner in sight, but many, many losers (those unlucky enough to be around when our flashes of humor get... uh... flashed).

Today's Bad Librarian Humor?

DL: I'm trying to talk a student out of attempting too broad of a topic.  He wants to write his research paper on both hunting and fishing.

Me:  Doesn't he know they're two totally different animals?

Yarggity Yar!!