Psst. Hey, you. Yes, you. I’m talking to you. The aspiring author sitting there struggling over your query letter. The guy or gal wondering just how to approach an editor, an agent, whomever. The one trying to decide on business formality or sass, beautiful prose or wit, eye-catching originality or appreciable directness. The writer trying to figure out just the right way to walk up to this person who could hold the key to your career as a published author and say “hi.”

Well, hi.

No, seriously. It’s as simple as that. Just say hi.

Yes, you’ll need to tell me about your book. A little about yourself, too, though don’t overwhelm me. But really, just to start off with, say hi. Smile. Be polite, be friendly, and give me your message. It’s just like making friends.

And just like making friends, it requires a little tact.

Tact means not complaining about how you don’t like the submission format. Tact means not trash-talking other writers. Tact means not whining about how stupid you think the publisher or agent’s requirements are. Tact means not deriding the other agents and editors who rejected you. Tact means not proclaiming yourself the One True Savior who understands the truth of the publishing industry and will show us all the light of your genius.

Tact also means keeping your crazy quite firmly under your belt where I can’t see it.

You wouldn’t let it all hang out like that when making a new friend. Don’t let it hang out with me. There’s time enough to show me how quirky-awesome you are, when I know you well enough to appreciate it. On that first meeting, what I need to know is that you’re sane, you write well, your story engages me, and you’re capable of understanding the business aspect of this entire crazy machine.

So just say hi, and hope we hit it off well enough for your book and my editing schedule to be friends.

We won’t be friends. We can’t be. I can’t be your friend and do my job. I can’t worry about hurting your feelings when I’m chopping apart incorrect modifiers or urging you to drop the passive voice and use more active verbs. I can’t be your friend when trying to train you out of your little bad writing habits, even if I’m doing it in your best interests so your talent can shine through and showcase the good writing habits that made me love your story in the first place. I won’t be your friend, because friends can’t be honest with friends about their writing.

But we’ll be friendly. We’ll learn to love each other and hate each other–but more than that, we’ll learn to depend on each other through revisions and deadlines, galleys and proofs, cover art quibbles and panicked last-minute changes. We’ll learn each others’ senses of humor and share inside jokes swapped via tweets and MS Word comment boxes. We’ll tease each other about quirks, find out strange little things about each other, and know each other in ways that often, friends don’t. Writing reveals a lot about a person. So does editing. So do those moments at three o’clock in the morning, when we’re both ready to tear our hair out trying to fix that one last sentence before the book’s due in to production the next day.

And when your book releases I’ll share a drink with you in celebration, although I’ll never come to your kids’ birthday parties or help you shop for Christmas. I don’t care about photos of your dog in sunglasses or slideshows of your vacation to Redondo Beach, and please don’t tell me about your hot date last night or the guy you found your wife in bed with. I don’t want to know. I’d rather not picture you that way, and it’s really not my business.

So no, we won’t be friends. But we will be establishing a unique relationship that, if all goes well, could last for many years and through many books. You wouldn’t start a friendship by approaching a stranger and criticizing their choice of those shoes with those slacks. You wouldn’t walk up to someone in a bar and, without even saying hello, begin a spiel of negativity about every person who ever hurt you in the past.

So why would you start a relationship with an editor or agent by antagonizing them?

WESTERN BEATRICE CLOVORT ADVISORY

For immediate release by the Office of Clovort Reduccion:

A clovort’s mouth is a dirty thing. It is best to keep all digits and appendages clear of its gray lips. On the rare occasion you discover an intelligent clovort, do not engage it in conversation. They are manipulative, and you might find yourself asking the clovort to taste you. In reply, the clovort will nod sheepishly and respond with, “All right. If you insist.”

If you spot a clovort while walking through the woods, do not stretch out your arms and make hooting noises to scare it away. This will not work. Do not tap the clovort on the nose. Do not urinate, fall to the ground and curl into a ball, stare it straight in the eye or turn around and run. All of these things will only make you more appetizing. The best course of action is to roll yourself in milk and pray the clovort is lactose intolerant.

If possible, and if not at risk to your physical intactness, tag the clovort with a personalized beacon dart. Then, when you visit the Office of Clovort Reduccion to file a complaint of clovort harassment, we will know whom to give credit to once we have captured the beast.

Any citizen caught using a clovort for manual labor will be punished severely. Given the relative girth of the clovort—usually six hundred pounds and eight feet tall—this prospect may tempt farmers. These beasts are exceptional at pulling ox carts and plowing the fields. However, farming jobs should be awarded to law-abiding citizens and not abominations of God.

Your elected officials are working tirelessly to rid Western Beatrice of this infestation. Despite our best intentions, we are constantly affronted by attacks from Clovort Right’s groups. Rest assured, King Perlezod and the Office of Clovort Reduccion will prevail. We count on your efforts to eradicate this abomination and create a clovort-free society for you, your children and your children’s children.

The Office thanks you for your cooperation.

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If you enjoyed that little bit of hilarity from author Jason Beymer, there’s more clovort-stomping fun coming when his debut novel, Rogue’s Curse, releases from Lyrical Press this August.

If you didn’t enjoy it, well…hush. He saved me from having to actually revive this blog myself. Go be nice to him anyway. He’s an introvert, and he needs to be dragged out of his shell. Kicking and screaming, if need be.

Besides…I owe him. Hard. Bugger stuck my name in the acknowledgments. Go. Mob him.