There’s a particular kind of silence that comes before I open for queries. It’s the hush of anticipation, of standing on the edge of something you know will be big and messy and beautiful. My QueryManager inbox sits at zero right now, like a perfectly smooth sheet of ice just before the first skate carves across it.
And then I type the words: Open for submissions.
Within minutes, the flood begins. Paragraphs full of hope, synopses straining to contain entire universes, characters demanding my attention before I’ve even met them. Writers tell me what they’ve labored over for months, years, sometimes decades. I get to be the first set of eyes beyond their inner circle. That’s the joy: the privilege of being trusted with someone’s dream.
But there’s also the struggle. For every query, I have only so much time and only so much space on my list. Each manuscript is a world, and I can’t visit them all. Some queries sparkle but aren’t quite right for me. Some are rough, but I glimpse a beating heart inside. Others just aren’t a fit, and I worry about the sting of that rejection email. I want every writer to feel seen, but I also know my role is part gatekeeper, part matchmaker. And sometimes the gate has to stay closed.
There’s a weight that comes with this inbox. The worry of missing the one. That book that could keep me up at night, the voice that could shape a conversation, the author who could thrive with the right champion. What if it’s hidden in a query I skimmed too quickly at the end of a long day? What if my exhaustion made me say “no” too fast? That possibility never stops nagging.
And yet, every time I open for queries, there’s a thrill. Because I know that in the chaos of the slush, somewhere is a voice that will make me sit up straighter. A sentence that will lodge in my chest. A story that will make me email an author at midnight because I can’t wait another second to tell them I get it. That moment makes the worry worth it.
So here I am, heart open, hope brewing, getting ready to open for submission. To the writers sending out their work: I see your bravery. It takes guts to hit “send.” You don’t know which agent will say yes, or how many rejections you’ll collect along the way, but you send it anyway
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And to myself, a little reminder: Approach every query with respect, with curiosity, with care. Because on the other side of this process isn’t just a manuscript, it’s a human being who’s dared to share a piece of their soul.
Here’s to the flood. Here’s to finding each other.
I will be opening for just one week starting on Monday, September 1 (yes, Labor Day) and closing on Sunday, September 7th. I’ll be looking for Women’s Fiction, romance, romcoms, thrillers, mysteries, speculative commercial and upmarket fiction. If you want to know more, please check me out here: https://linktr.ee/erinniumata
If you’re gearing up to start querying agents or if you’re not having much luck with queries, I’ve written a four part series on writing a winning query. Check it out HERE.
Cannot wait to dive in.
This was such a lovely--and as always--beautifully written post. I particularly love these lines:
"And to myself, a little reminder: Approach every query with respect, with curiosity, with care. Because on the other side of this process isn’t just a manuscript, it’s a human being who’s dared to share a piece of their soul."
I think the same reminder applies to writers querying--there is a human on the other side who may dislike communicating that rejection as much as you dislike getting it. (I hated telling candidates they were getting their "dream job"--it always hurt my heart a little.) So kindness and respect--all the way around--is never a bad look.
Good luck to you, I hope that dream manuscript and client bubbles their way to the top of the heap!