Quest for the Holy Sale: Finding Agents

Based on the stories passed down to me, it would appear finding an agent is much like being one of Arthur’s knights and embarking on a quest for the Holy Grail.  While the call of Arthur’s war horn hasn’t reached my ears just yet, (there’s still plenty of time for this squire) I have already started strengthening my sword arm.  So today I will share the tools and resources I have been using to prepare for battle.

Slay the Hydra.  Yes, to lure an agent onto the battleground one must have a book.  Even better, more than one.   Working on multiple books is akin to battling a hydra.  You cut off one head, and another one sprouts up to spit in your face.

Shine your bloody armor!  If you wan’t to incite fear in the agents heart, you show up on the battlefield looking like the hand of God placed you before him/her.  For the purposes of agent slaying, this armor is my query letter.   When they read it, I need them to suffer from the kind of blindness you experience when glancing at an angel.

The local lore master offered me a scroll that spoke of a Writer’s Digest article.  I bartered my last jug of ale to get a mystic to add a glyph here.   This portal, if you choose to enter, lists a number of dusty, leather bound tomes focusing on crafting a query letter.  I have a stack of these tomes being delivered by the strongest steed in the land (I couldn’t afford the shipping costs of a griffin – maybe after I get the Grail).

I also met a warrioress in a cow pasture outside of the village (I got lost coming back from the tavern).  Her armor was brilliant and gleaming and she cleaved a tree in two with her bare hands.  I have since began spying on her – hiding in the tall grass to watch her train.  Judging by the quality of her armor, she is obviously skilled.

Compass?  Nay – use thine divining rod.  You can’t smite an agent with your query letter if you can’t find one.  After speaking to the wart-covered hag who lives in the Midnight Marsh, and going on a couple errands to collect bizarre herbs, she gave me a magical stick and said it was an Agent Divining Rod.  I jumped with joy.  When I came home and explained what it was to Heather (wife/shield maiden) she clobbered me and threw it into the hearth fire.  So I have decided to look at the Writer’s Digest Guide to Literary Agents and Writer’s Market 2016 tomes for insight.  At least the house will stay warm.

To know thy enemy, one must study the lore.  The texts mentioned above are a start.  They contain enough pages to heat my hovel for many days.  I must spend more time going through them and recording potential targets.

The other night, while running important work related errands (if Heather asks), I met a bard at the Round Table Roadhouse who whispered of two locations of hidden lore.  The bard claimed agents could be found via scrying portals!  It took me three crystal ingots and one quart of mother’s milk (again, no need to mention this to Heather) to get a mage to inscribe those locations within the magical plane here and here.

Gather an angry mob of villagers!  Why do battle alone?  Get the villagers riled up and they will rally to you in droves.  The agent may think twice before questioning your honor when you have a mob of torch wielding village-folk at your back.

I‘ve been working on this.  I traded four cattle, two chickens, my lucky horseshoe, and a strand of baby Thor’s hair to Merlin’s apprentice (who was drunk at the time).  In return, she provided me some sort of magical mirror into the world (I believe it’s powered by a lightning elemental).  With this tool of mechromancy,  I work daily to gather a global mob to join me in battle.  It also allows me to view humorous videos of cats.  I have used this magic to hone my wit.

Screw Arthur, get the Grail on your own.  I met a warrior bard once who wore no banner.  His face was covered in scars, but there was a strange twinkle in his eyes.  I traded him two loaves of bread, a vial of djinn tears, and three of Thor’s dirty diapers (I didn’t ask why) for a leather bound chronicle of his journeys.

I told him of my desire to join Arthur, battle an agent, gain the Grail, and earn glory.  He just laughed and told me to not waste my time.  To my surprise, he claimed to have carved his own path to glory.  Judging by the scars, I believed him.  I will have to research this path more.  Perhaps I could convince my friend M.L.S. Weech, who is also a warrior bard, to share a tale of his journeys?

Do you hear that?  It’s not Arthur’s war horn, it’s something far more terrible – the growing cries of baby Thor (his anger can shake the foundations of our humble abode).  Come to think of it, I also need to explain to Heather why so many things are missing from the house…I will have to end this entry here.

Have your duties led you to hidden lore?  I would like to know!  Until the sun rises again, keep studying the lore, keep inscribing your tales, and as always – keep your quill sharp!