Into the Inbox Abyss: My First Steps into Querying

Welcome to the void.

Population: You, a spreadsheet, and too much hope.

What Even Is Querying?

Querying is the step where writers try to convince literary agents to represent their book—and, in an ideal future, help sell it to a publisher. It usually involves three things: a query letter, a synopsis, and sample pages—plus a few extra ingredients: nerves, spreadsheets, mild nausea, and more browser tabs than anyone wants to count.

Agents receive hundreds of queries each month. So in just a few hundred words, you’re trying to make an impact strong enough to rise above a very crowded inbox. It’s not unlike trying to get noticed in Times Square using a handwritten note taped to your shirt.

For me, this marks a big shift in gears. After multiple rounds of revisions, I’m feeling good with my manuscript (…though of course I’ll still spot something to tweak the moment I hit “send”), so I’ve paused active story revisions and shifted from creative writing to persuasive writing. It’s a totally different muscle—and one that I used to dread. But more on that in a minute.

Building the Submission Packet

I’ve always found persuasive writing to be among the most daunting tasks in life. Resume and cover letter writing are firmly in my “least favorite activities” list—right between helping a non-techie reset a forgotten Apple ID and assembling IKEA furniture without throwing the Allen wrench. So I expected the query process to feel the same.

But something’s changed.

After multiple rewrites, deeply targeted revisions, and incredibly thoughtful beta feedback, I’m more confident in The Fractured Soul than I’ve ever been. That confidence has bled into how I write about the book—it no longer feels like I’m bluffing. I know what this story is. I know what it does.

The query letter is essentially a pitch—a tight, one-page distillation of your book’s premise, character arc, and emotional stakes, paired with a short bio. The synopsis is its opposite: a full rundown of all the plot points, character arcs, subplots, and twists—including spoilers. Writing both was like switching between cover blurb mode and highly caffeinated Wikipedia editor mode.

Comp titles (comparable books) were another mountain to climb. You’re asked to compare your book to 2–3 recently published novels to help agents understand where your story might fit in the market. Finding them is hard—because reading someone else’s book while trying to reverse-engineer how it might compare to your own is… not relaxing. Add the “published within the last 5 years” rule and voilà: the universe’s least fun book scavenger hunt. But after a lot of searching, I started thinking in terms of shared elements. For readers who loved the elegant vulnerability of A Taste of Gold and Iron and the portal fantasy richness of The Wood Bee Queen, The Fractured Soul will appeal to readers who enjoy immersive, character-driven fantasy in the tradition of Katherine Addison.

Finally, there’s customization. Every agent wants something slightly different—first five pages, first ten, no synopsis, full synopsis, .docx or .pdf—so it’s a bit like preparing a dozen slightly different versions of the same dish for a picky dinner party. Who may or may not RSVP. But I get it. If I were an agent reading that many submissions, I’d want it formatted exactly how I like it, too.

The Strategy: Small Batches, Big Feelings

The strategy I’ve landed on is to send out queries in small batches—around 5 to 7 at a time—so I can iterate, reflect, and adjust based on any feedback I receive (if any).

And yes, feedback is rare. You’ll often get silence. Or, if you’re lucky, a form rejection that feels like it was ghostwritten by an extremely polite AI. And not because agents are rude or harsh; it’s just the reality of how high the volume is. But when the work is solid and the pitch is clear, you increase your chances of hitting the right desk at the right time.

For me, querying isn’t just about finding any agent. I’m looking for someone who will be a long-term business partner. Someone I trust to advocate for my work and who sees the same potential in the story—and the series—that I do. That includes having a compatible communication style, being open to collaboration, and respecting creative boundaries. Because publishing a book is a business endeavor, but it’s also deeply personal.

What’s Surprised Me About This Stage

I’d been quietly dreading this phase for a long time. I researched the querying process inside and out, but deliberately avoided writing a query letter until I absolutely had to. I wasn’t sure I could do it. But once I sat down to try, something shifted.

The confidence I’ve developed in my manuscript is doing some of the emotional heavy lifting. That doesn’t mean the process is easy—there’s still a queasy feeling in my stomach every time I think about sending my first queries out. You’re not just putting your book out there; you’re putting yourself out there.

And when responses are sparse or nonexistent, it’s hard not to take it personally.

But I keep reminding myself: making it this far is already a big deal. Most people never finish a novel, let alone revise it multiple times, seek feedback, and polish it to a high shine. My odds are higher than I sometimes allow myself to believe—not because the road ahead is easy, but because I’ve actually done the work.

Looking Ahead (and Letting Go)

Here’s what I can control: the quality of the materials I send, the thoughtfulness of my research, and the professionalism of my approach. That’s it.

I’ve worked hard to develop a writing voice and style I’m proud of—restrained, immersive, introspective—and I know this story is better because of it. If it finds a champion in an agent, I’ll be thrilled. If it doesn’t, I’ll take what I’ve learned and keep going.

It helps to remember that an agent might pass for dozens of reasons that have nothing to do with quality: they may have just signed something similar, feel mismatched with the story’s themes, or not see how they could best represent it. Or maybe they just spilled tea on their laptop and lost everything that came in on Tuesday. Who knows? That’s not failure. That’s part of the process.

In the meantime, I’ll distract myself the only way I know how—by getting to work on outlining Book 2.

There will be more revisions, more silence, more waiting. But there will also be new ideas, new momentum, and hopefully—eventually—the right partnership to bring this story further into the world.

Let’s Talk

If you’re a fellow writer navigating this process, or just curious about how querying works, I’d love to hear from you. Questions? Comments? Cautionary tales? Drop them below.

If there’s interest, I’d be happy to share a peek behind the curtain—querying spreadsheets, research rabbit holes, and all.

Until then, wish me luck!