Archive for May, 2024


People often say that with all the inflation, you can’t buy anything for a single dollar. Those people are wrong.

My all-time favourite podcast is “Ologies” with Alie Ward: she’s an amazing interviewer, a science enthusiast, and has a wicked sense of humour. She also has a fun incentive for her listeners to support the podcast on Patreon. For just one dollar a month, you get to ask questions for every upcoming episode. If Alie picks your question, she’ll read it out loud (along with your name), and you’ll become part of the podcast’s history.

Well… One of the many fun things about Patreon is that you get to pick your own name – or nickname. Long story short, if you listen to the most recent episode about praying mantises, at the 54:15 timestamp you’ll hear Alie say my nickname – “Grigorius of Tomsk, Devourer of Pop-Tarts, Victor of Many Battles.” To her credit, she managed to say that without laughing, and with only the slightest delay after “Pop-Tarts.”

Amazing. Absolutely amazing. That right there was the best dollar I’ve ever spent, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop laughing at that tiny soundbite. Go forth, y’all, and be the chaotic creative goblins you know you should be.

The quirky query quest

My big project this year is to try to get my debut sci-fi novel a) sold and b) published – with a bunch of short story submissions as a side dish. It has been interesting…

The thing you usually hear the most is how difficult it is to write a novel in the first place: people try and fail, or they incubate their precious idea their whole life, or they participate in the NaNoWriMo project. The act of having written, of having created, seems to be the ultimate prize. No one tells you about the next stage – finding a good agent by cold-messaging them with a query.

I’ll be honest: I hadn’t given this step much thought. All of my favourite writers (Pratchett, Scalzi, etc) had more or less stumbled on their agents, and I’d assumed I’d figure it out once I got there. (And that was a good tactic at the time: why stress about that before the book is even finished?) Now that I’m here, though… Wow. Wowowow. This is an entire world, an ecosphere of its own, with so many rules and quirks and occasionally contradictory advice.

A query should be short but not too short. Funny but not too funny. It should reference comps (comparable works) directly but without being too arrogant: in the style of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – not similar to Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The comps should be relevant but recent, and not too old. I’m going to start a mini-quest to find relatively recent books that combine quirky revisionist history with snarky time travel narratives: in theory, there ought to be at least a couple of them. In reality, I haven’t heard of any. There is, in fact, an actual free service for writers where, if you leave a voicemail describing your book, a team of booksellers will brainstorm to help you find recent comps. We live in such a strange (and occasionally incredibly kind) world…

The more I learn about all the different query styles, and preferences, and conflicting pieces of advice, the more I feel like an uncouth barbarian at an elf castle. So many rules (written and otherwise) so many ways to mess this up, so very much to learn… This truly is fascinating – and a worthwhile challenge at long last.

I have no relatives or buddies in the industry, no rich parents who have a golfing buddy with a publishing house, no giant social media following. In a way, that makes my hunt a lot more difficult. In another way, though, it’s a reassurance about something I always worry about: when I succeed, it’ll be based on merit, and nothing else. The road ahead will be difficult, but I know that someday I will reach my destination, with my yet-to-be-discovered awesome agent, and my as-yet-unknown editor. I do not know what form the end result will take, nor how long this will take me, but I know my novel is the exact sort of thing my 20-year-old self would’ve adored, and I will get it published – someway, somehow, someday.

And now… Off to hunt down the comps of historical and/or time travel novels that occupy my very specific quirky niche. Followed by major revisions of my query letter. Followed by a bit of an email blast, and waiting, and hoping, and dreaming. All shall be well.

EDITED TO ADD, A LITTLE WHILE LATER: Well, it took some googling, but I’ve found a few books that are somewhat-but-not-quite similar to mine. This should work I think: “The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England” by Brandon Sanderson, “The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O.” by Neal Stephenson and Nicole Galland, and the “Time Police” series by Jodi Taylor.

Also, I realize how ridiculously self-assured my post sounds. I promise that I know what Dunning-Kruger means. I am not perfect, but neither am I terrible. What I am is extremely patient, in possession of infinite time, and quite good at handling rejections. Someday, I shall succeed.

EDITED TO ADD, A BIT LATER: Ho hum, apparently the comp titles should be from the last couple of years. (Sorry, Mr. Stephenson.) Behold, the new comps! Jodi Taylor’s “Time Police” series, Bill O’Neill’s “The Big Book of Unexplained Mysteries,” and “The Umbrella Academy.” I really think this is the best trio of recent fictional works to describe my novel. Let’s hope this works, eh?

Hell is…

…forcing yourself to go out solo on a Friday night because your partner is with one of her other partners and it’s been at or below freezing for over six months, and you just want to see people wearing anything other than winter coats, and see some new people for once, or a few dozen new people, or a few hundred new people, and the security guy doesn’t even glance at your ID, and the perfunctory patdown misses the pocket knife and other goodies, and all the 19-year-olds inside stare at you – old enough to be their father – like you’re a “How do you do, fellow kids?”-type narc, though granted, wearing a blazer over a Fallout T-shirt probably wasn’t the best fashion choice, and they still stare, and if you wonder if you remind them of a cop, or a professor, or their parent, and you buy an overpriced beer to fit in, and bop your head up and down with the rhythm of surprisingly old-timey songs from your own college years, and suddenly, you realize you can’t recall the name of the young classmate whose death you’ve played a small role in almost a year ago, and how long has it been since you last thought of her? – and you make laps through the large basement dancefloor, part of the crowd and yet not part of it, living vicariously through the young as they hop and make faces and hold onto each other’s hair to make it through the crowd without getting lost, and Ronel, Ronel, her name was Ronel – it comes to you, suddenly, when you have all but given up, and you realize the DJ looks like a middle-aged Benjamin Franklin with laser-shooting gloves, and the bearded man standing to him is either a Babylonian or a damn fine approximation, and the musician upstairs starts singing Wonderwall, followed by Country Roads, in a Quebecois accent, and the veil between realities seems to be thinner than usual, and finally – finally – you get outside, and get some fresh air, and get home, and wonder if maybe you should go out more often.