Audition Fails, Query Fails, and What The Hell Do I Do Next?
Facing the failure of your goals.
I queried my first book for the past year and didn’t get anywhere with it.
The first audition I took for a full-time orchestra was the St. Louis Symphony in 1995. My preparation was thorough, and as a grad student in an inspiring environment, I was ready to make history. I made it to the third excerpt, the overture to La Gazza Ladra by Rossini, and executed it with the artistic grace of a rookie waiter with a tray full of food as wide as an aircraft carrier trying not to step on squirming puppies underfoot. Yeah, it didn’t go well and I got the dreaded “Thank you,” which really means “No thank you.”
I queried my first book for the past year and didn’t get anywhere with it.
At most auditions, the candidates usually play a minimum of three excerpts before they would hear the dreaded “thank you” or they get to continue playing. When I auditioned for the Syracuse Symphony in 2000, I survived the gauntlet of the first three excerpts and relaxed knowing they wanted to hear more. Next was Gershwin’s Piano Concerto in F, a four-bar technical display of double tonguing and dexterity. Again, the clumsy waiter showed up but only dropped the bread basket. I asked for a chance to play it again. They allowed it and I musically spilt the whole fucking tray all over the floor, making a garbled mess of Gershwin. “Thank you.”
I queried my first book for the past year and didn’t get anywhere with it.
In 2007, I auditioned for the New York Philharmonic. Easily the biggest audition I had ever taken of the highest notoriety and this time, with twelve more years of audition experience under my belt. I played the entire first round list and I advanced to the second round. I felt like a GOD! Two months later at the semi-finals, I cracked one note in Ein Heldenleben. “Thank you.”
I queried my first book for the past year and didn’t get anywhere with it.
In 1998 I auditioned for the Honolulu Symphony and I was one of four finalists. Advancing rounds and riding the affirmation of requests to play again fueled my internal fire to provide my best work. I didn’t win but that was a great day for me and my playing. Still…“Thank you.”
I queried my first book for the past year and didn’t get anywhere with it.
I bring up these war stories from the audition trail to amuse you and to remind me that some artistic goals were faced and determined at singular moments in time along an otherwise successful multiple-decade career in music. I’ve experienced several highs, a handful of lows, all teaching me valuable lessons, building up my resilience, and…
It still sucks when you don’t accomplish your goals.
Show us where the publishing industry hurt your feelings…
Fighting the Elements is the first book that I completed. It took 4.5 years to write, revise, run it through critique partners, a book coach, several virtual writing retreats, five beta readers, and submitted as a query to many literary agents. Not only was I proud of my accomplishments, I wore the badge of #amquerying with such immense pride, I didn’t care if it gleamed too shiny on my lapel.
During the query process, some agents ask, “Why are you the person to write this book?”
Fighting the Elements is a love letter to writers who influenced and inspired me (Christopher Moore, N.K. Jemisin, Terry Pratchett, Aaron Sorkin, the cast of Monty Python). It has characters that I relate to, and that represent myself, friends, family, and colleagues who’ve made significant impacts on my life. Elements also allows me to turn tropes on their head and present a story from a non-traditional protagonist, like Death, our nice guy hero. And (my favorite answer) I’M THE GUY WHO WROTE THE FRIGGIN’ BOOK! Duh.
I wanted (still “want” but you get the theme by now) to traditionally publish through a literary agent because it is what I know, compared to my musical experience. Like winning an audition, I set the goal of gaining validation and approval from a “committee” (lit agents). I wanted someone to say, “I’ll invest in you for our collective success.” I’ve experienced that joy in a few auditions (One of the greatest sentences I’ve ever heard in my career was, “The committee has selected Jay Heltzer as the winner.” Another one I heard was, “Are you the bass trombonist? Holy CRAP!” That’s a different story.) Plus, I’ve also had the distinct honor of being on many committees that sent the same message to some of my colleagues when they auditioned for my groups. I’ve been in this realm for thirty years. It’s all I know!
Unfortunately, the silence of offers was a door slam on my goals, as polite as the slam may have been. Every query reply was a form letter stating they were “going to pass on the opportunity,” or it was “not quite right for my list,” or, “I did not connect with the opening pages enough to move forward.” That one hurts the most. Here’s the problem, I can’t argue with any of those replies. They read what I submitted and it wasn’t right for them… all of them.
Does this mean Elements is dead in the water? Hardly, but the remaining options aren’t what I wanted. As I told a friend this past week, “Just because a runner didn’t make the Olympic team doesn’t mean they’re a bad runner. They’ll still win other races and competitions, but they didn’t achieve their top goal of the Olympics, did they?” This year, with this book of mine, I didn’t either.
I began the query journey in September of 2024 and here I am today, a year later, with a batting record of 0-XX. (I don’t have the bandwidth to count the rejections up. Lets just say my spreadsheet is very, very red.) These were definitive strikeouts. No one asked for more pages, no one requested to read the full manuscript, no one asked for anything.
THAT is the book that I queried for a year and didn’t get anywhere with it.
This is only your first query? Dude, get in line!
If you are a fellow writer that has been mired in the query trenches, I can hear your sarcastic sympathy. “Oh honey, you’ve only just begun? Let me tell you about my…” or maybe you’re saying, “Isn’t that cute. He’s mourning his first book not getting picked up. I’m up to how many now?”
My beloved peers, colleagues, and friends, I honor you, I respect you, I learn from you, and I’m grateful for your camaraderie and support. The writing community is filled with fantastic people and I value everyone’s opinions and experiences. BUT… Do you remember how your first rejection felt? Yeah, I thought so. This is my first, and we all know that the rejection of the first one sucks all across the blank slate of suckiness. There’s plenty more room to earn battle scars from my next book through revising, pitching, drafting, etc…. and I will.
As I sit in the sadness of my decision to stop querying Elements, what I’m experiencing is like the feeling of getting dumped, like I let my book down, like I’m an inexperienced child trying to sit at the grown-up’s table. One of the more popular writing podcasts signs off every episode with the uplifting adage, “It only takes one ‘yes.’” Well, I didn’t get my yes, and I’m pretty sure I won’t either at this rate with this book. Thanks a lot.
Traveling the route of traditional publishing has its pluses and minuses, but it’s the path to publication that spoke to me the loudest, and now I’m closing the door on that option, at least for this book.
I learned something today…
After each audition where I came home empty-handed and unemployed, I returned to my freelancing, my private teaching, or back to my current job which I’m still grateful for. I would engage in honest chats with friends discussing what I did right and wrong, or in some cases, we all commiserated why audition panels have their heads up their butts. (Spoiler alert: they don’t.) Then, I kept practicing, always getting ready for the next audition.
Maybe I’ll pitch Elements directly to small publishers? Maybe I’ll become an Independent author and self-publish? I can’t and won’t just dump the book in the drawer and let it sit forever. I invested too much into this book for it to vanish. Besides, my sister has asked numerous times, “When am I going to read your book?” to which I grumble something like, “When someone publishes it.” I know better than to leave my sister hanging and waiting.
In the dust cloud of an email inbox that never delivered the news I wanted, I must now re-establish my relationship with notifications. Oh look, a new email. Maybe it’s… no. Another one. Could it be… crap. No. C’mon Outlook, baby needs a new pair of shoes!… Sigh.
As I write this (a few days before publishing it), I dread working on my current WIP because I’m lacking the confidence in my craft. I look at character arcs and dialogue the same way I look at La Gazza Ladra and the Gershwin Concerto. Yeesh, that’s difficult. Maybe I’ll ❤️ a bunch of Bluesky posts instead.
Gazza Ladra and the Gershwin (and dozens of others excerpts) are difficult, yet I still love making music, but they’re hard, but making music, but…
Guess what kid? Getting your book picked up by an agent and then getting it published? That’s difficult too. You think you’re the first to strike out in the query trenches? Nuh unh. It’s just your turn.
I feel wounded and a tiny bit shamed from it all. But guess what? It’s 5am and I’m here at the writing desk doing this. Also, there’s been plenty of people who’ve been here before and they’ve achieved success. PLUS, I’m headed to Jupiter in two weeks and that’s going to solve my crisis of confidence and send me on my future path of success, right? Write!
Some smart, inspired person once said, “Keep fucking writing.” I like that person. I think I’m going to heed their advice.
Still sucks though.
Okay, enough with the suck.
“MRS. LANDINGHAM, WHAT’S NEXT?” <ding!>
Look at you, living a life of creative abundance and courage. I always celebrate the audition, the submission. What happens beyond that we cannot control. But we can show up, again and again, even after we've heard No more times than we care to recall. Good on ya for continuing to show up. That's where the magic is. See you soon!
I don't know how small press publishers work, but Roxane Gay says there are a lot of them in the US, and she says they take care of some of the work you'd have to do in self-publishing. When I finish my book, if the trad route doesn't pan out, I'm going to take a look at this option.
Also, if any of the feedback was actually useful (like, "this character had an inconsistent voice"), you might reread your work with that in mind and see if you see it/agree...because "this isn't the right fit" isn't very helpful. But better than no response at all.
Anyway, I have faith you will eventually get published, and I will joyfully pre-order multiple copies!