Oh, querying. How exciting, how terrifying! I’m going to apologize in advance for this meandering metaphor, which is broken at best and is likely ill-equipped to bear my legion of thoughts on the subject.
To quote myself on twitter:
I used to think of publishing as “turning a corner” in the development process. And it kind-of is. But that corner is no right-angled intersection! It folds in on itself, wrinkling into interdimensional space. Space upon space into infinity.
In truth, I tried querying once, but it was before I had polished the work and I gave up after a few rejections. But now, I have more confidence in my work and my ability to sell it. Not presumptive confidence per se, but I do believe in my work.
I think of querying as entering a quantum state in which the future fractions into quantum potentials, only eventually collapsing when an acceptance letter turns into a contract, turns into a physical book in my hands. I can weather a bit of fifth-dimensional uncertainty, but a small part of me, the part that is tied to time, feels the sting of that cloud of unmet potential.
Mortal beings don’t fare well in quantum bubbles—especially after escaping the endless bubble of conception-to-creation. When the work is done, you just want it to be done. I love creating with every cell in my body, but selling is the part I wish I could skip. But I can’t because what is art if not for exhibition? And so, into the bubble I go—I’ll see you on the other side of the tesseract.