Query for a literary agent
Query letter (1 paragraph about myself, brief plot and synopsis, and contact info).
This is my first novel. I wrote on this topic because I like history and how a person's family history sometimes dictates life choices which is the central theme of this work. This work begins with an elderly Henry Averill telling his life story to a reporter for a local newspaper in 1890 in San Francisco. In it, he relates the story of his family from his grandfather in England who built a family business in America to his uncle who did likewise in the West, and how his values were shaped by his mother whose experiences were as varied as teacher to Indian children in Rhode Island to Governess of a plantation in Virginia. His experiences go from life in Rhode Island on the family farm to years in Virginia until his mother died at which time he enlisted in the Union forces in 1864 and from there spent years in the army as well as his own business interests on the West coast and a brief period in Mexico treasure hunting for some that his uncle had stolen and hidden in the 1840s. At the end of the story, Henry dies. His eldest son gives the reporter a manuscript that fills in the blanks about his father's life. Material, he said, for a book.
In addition to the above, I have added material from the mss to show a sample of my writing:
Henry's Choice by C.O. Irby, III
Chapter 1: The Meeting
The story begins and ends in 1890 with Mr. Henry Averill telling newspaper reporter, Finley Donley, the story of his family and life. Mr. Donley is interviewing Mr. Averill about his life experiences, especially how he became a successful businessman, as an inspiration to a younger generation of readers. In the series of interviews, Mr. Averill recounts stories of his grandfather who immigrated from England in the latter 18th century and made his home in Rhode Island to his portrayal of his mother as a Godfearing frontier woman who was quite educated for her times and whose careers were as diverse as being a teacher to local Indians in Rhode Island to later employment as a governess for the Camber family in western Virginia on their plantation. He talked about Uncle Jerome who left the family farm in Rhode Island and went out West to start his own business as well as service in the Mexican American War in the 1840s.
While at a restaurant and boarding house that he owned wearing a long black coat and round brim hat, with a five inch bowtie and a gold and black vest with a diamond pattern, Mr. Averill opened the gold pocket watch that was a wedding gift from his wife Ophelia over 20 years ago. As he looked over the larger than usual watch numbers gotten because of a slight vision problem that he had back when give, but has since gotten worse, he thought of the long series of events that led to this meeting. A few hundred feet away with slightly blond short curly hair and a bowler hat with an air of anticipation was Finley. As he was walking to the meeting, Finley thought of his family at home. His wife, Moira, was probably in the long process of cooking the evening meal for their family of two girls and a boy, who were playing in and around the house, mostly inside so she could watch them. They lived in town in a little house on a side street. Their neighbors were friendly and nothing ever happened there to be worried about, but you never knew as there was a rough element that occasionally did their thing as it were, he thought to himself. Anyway, he was happy to have the assignment because a few years ago when he had just come to
town one of the places that he had looked for work was the Averill company. Though not hiring at the time, the hiring manager referred him to his current employer. When he went to the paper, they apparently liked the reference by the looks on their faces, and hired him on the spot. The man who referred him turned out to be Mr. Averill himself. From little bits of information that he had gotten over the years, it turned out that Mr. Averill was a bit of a folk hero to many people. Mr. Donley wanted to separate legend from fact. While he was mulling these points over in his mind, his teeth which had really been bothering him off and on for the past couple of weeks were giving him some more trouble so he might go to a dentist after the interview. They weren't really bothering him bad today. Oh well, he thought, he'd see after the meeting how he felt.
Upon entering the foyer and peering through the oval stained glass window in the door separating the dining room from the lobby of the establishment, Mr. Averill looked around the restaurant and couldn't help thinking about the fine decorations that he had brought in from around the world. The linen tablecloths with lace on the edges from Ireland, the wildlife pictures on the wall from an artist who had recently been out West were really a coup he thought, though other patrons had stated to management that they would have preferred no reminder of where some of their meal came from. In his mind, if they paid money once, they would probably pay again, so those people might want the window seats, or one of the other dining rooms that were not so decorated. He liked them also because he owned the place and it made him feel like home with his family. Some of the furniture for the place included a chest of drawers which contained the tablecloths and cloth napkins for the customers. The silverware was kept in the kitchen until use. Every couple of months the theme would be changed to match the cuisine or the season. He didn't want people to get bored with the ambience or the food. After he sat down, the waiter asked him what he wanted to eat. He said that he wanted his usual fare, to which the waiter nodded his head and went towards the kitchen. Mr. Averill thought that he did without breakfast at home, just to get this meal. He was overweight and knew it, but didn't know how to lose it. He was breathing hard and no matter how active he was it didn't go down on the scales. The meal came. Hmm, it looked good, he thought. "Frank, how's the family?", he asked the waiter. "Fine, Mr. Averill, the boys are doing well in school". That sounds good. You know, if your oldest Tom wants to he can come work for me. We have openings in the office and loading dock operations. I'll tell him about it, sir. Frank said with a smile. When Frank left, Mr. Averill looked at his food like an eagle looking for prey while in flight. He had one medium sized steak. Well, he did go from large to that, so it could be called reducing food intake he thought. Some mashed potatoes. Oh, I like those, he thought. Less there than before and Private Stock to drink. He thought that he was at least trying to lose weight and not look like Taft, that guy in Ohio politics. Henry thought that the steak was, as usual, out of this world. The juices were flowing inside his mouth and he could taste the meat even before he chewed it. Chew it well his mother always told him. "Hmm," he thought. Now to wash it down with some of Grandfather's favorite libation.
Mr. Averill just finished his glass, a six inch tall rather than his regular eight inch one, when Mr. Donley walked in with his writing materials under his right arm which he switched to his left before proferring his right hand to Mr. Averill who was in the process of rising from his chair for the meeting. "I see that you came prepared Mr. Donley," he said. "Yes sir, I did," answered the reporter being polite and businesslike at the same time. Mr. Averill for his almost 300 pounds could carry himself well. Once, when asked why he did not lose weight if only for health reasons, he said that he did not know, but that after he finished eating his meal of steak, potatoes, churned butter on toasted bread, he would think about it. He exercised according to the wellness craze going on at the time. Only in his case, it did not involve the brisk exercises and various vinegar and honey drinks and baths at a fitness clinic. Rather, he used his own methods of controlling weight and increasing longevity. He would drink a lot of processed water with additives, namely beer, sometimes watered down. He owned a brewery, so it was his "private stock". He explained where he got the name "Private Stock" in a story about his grandfather. Walking was a part of his daily regimen. He would walk around his farm, mostly from the main house to the barn to look at his horses. Then, he would ride one of them for a few minutes. It would get tired long before him and look it. After which, he would be hungry and eat one of those cooked whale blubber pieces that he had been eating since the early part of the century. At that time, he had met whalers in his New England hometown and
had been introduced to the native Inuit cuisine which was to be found on the western part of the continent. This simple fare was, and still is, their main staple of food. He had heard that they were a healthy lot, so early on he decided to see if this was true and whenever he could get some he did. His uncle later went to that area on one of his many adventures in the transatlantic trade business and would always be able to supply him with some during the 1830s and early 1840s while Henry still lived in Rhode Island. Later, in Virginia, because of lack of freezing accomodations and long distances overland he would have to do without this delicacy. When he got to San Francisco in the 1870s, he was able to make contact with Russian fishermen and traders who had no problems finding his delicacy. For years, he has been a constant customer and investor. After the first interview, Mr. Donley got to thinking about the subject matter of his series of articles. Mr. Donley knew that the gentleman had lived a varied life with experiences ranging from a grandfather who was successful in manufacturing to an uncle who had a western business career that had started with fur trapping out in Oregon in the early part of the century and that Mr. Averill had been in the Army and had some type of adventure in Mexico, the details of which were never clear. After the interviews, it would become apparent just how varied Mr. Averill's life had been. It would also form the basis for a long term relationship between the two families that would stretch well into the next century. Basically, Mr. Averill asked Mr. Donley what he wanted to know and that he had prepared an outline that might be a good idea if Mr. Donley asked questions according to it and that if he had another way of doing the interviewing they could do that. Mr. Donley read it. It was pretty thorough and he noted a couple of entries with a tic-tac-toe mark next to it. These read Mexican Adventure, Uncle Jerome's life, Mother, and Grandfather. He decided to jot down
questions that he would later bring up with Mr. Averill the next morning.
Back at the ranch or estate, depending on whether you asked Henry or Ophelia as she liked the grander sound of estate or plantation, Henry was dismounting his carriage that he used to travel about. He still rode horses, but most of the time he simply used the other mode of transportation. He thought about all the years that had passed and any regrets that he had. Life had been good to him and his family. Also, mother made her choices as well, ultimately spending eternity where she wanted. At his age, he was getting closer to his final destination every clock ticking second. He started thinking about the points that they covered today at the interview, plus the ones that he would be talking about tomorrow. As he was walking from the stable that he had designed and had built so many years ago, he noticed the trees with the sunlight on their tops and besides realizing that it was getting on in the day around 2 o'clock according to his pocketwatch, and time for his nap. Sleeping in midday was a habit that he had gotten into on his travels around
the world once he had the means and opportunity to do so. A lot of time had passed since he was a little boy growing up in Rhode Island, he would be talking about that with Mr. Donley, and how it made him the person that he was today. He guessed because he was uncertain what he would talk about. Oh well, that was for another day.
Contact Information:
irbycomp@hotmail.com
I left in the email for this critique. Normally, I would put more.
This is my first novel. I wrote on this topic because I like history and how a person's family history sometimes dictates life choices which is the central theme of this work. This work begins with an elderly Henry Averill telling his life story to a reporter for a local newspaper in 1890 in San Francisco. In it, he relates the story of his family from his grandfather in England who built a family business in America to his uncle who did likewise in the West, and how his values were shaped by his mother whose experiences were as varied as teacher to Indian children in Rhode Island to Governess of a plantation in Virginia. His experiences go from life in Rhode Island on the family farm to years in Virginia until his mother died at which time he enlisted in the Union forces in 1864 and from there spent years in the army as well as his own business interests on the West coast and a brief period in Mexico treasure hunting for some that his uncle had stolen and hidden in the 1840s. At the end of the story, Henry dies. His eldest son gives the reporter a manuscript that fills in the blanks about his father's life. Material, he said, for a book.
In addition to the above, I have added material from the mss to show a sample of my writing:
Henry's Choice by C.O. Irby, III
Chapter 1: The Meeting
The story begins and ends in 1890 with Mr. Henry Averill telling newspaper reporter, Finley Donley, the story of his family and life. Mr. Donley is interviewing Mr. Averill about his life experiences, especially how he became a successful businessman, as an inspiration to a younger generation of readers. In the series of interviews, Mr. Averill recounts stories of his grandfather who immigrated from England in the latter 18th century and made his home in Rhode Island to his portrayal of his mother as a Godfearing frontier woman who was quite educated for her times and whose careers were as diverse as being a teacher to local Indians in Rhode Island to later employment as a governess for the Camber family in western Virginia on their plantation. He talked about Uncle Jerome who left the family farm in Rhode Island and went out West to start his own business as well as service in the Mexican American War in the 1840s.
While at a restaurant and boarding house that he owned wearing a long black coat and round brim hat, with a five inch bowtie and a gold and black vest with a diamond pattern, Mr. Averill opened the gold pocket watch that was a wedding gift from his wife Ophelia over 20 years ago. As he looked over the larger than usual watch numbers gotten because of a slight vision problem that he had back when give, but has since gotten worse, he thought of the long series of events that led to this meeting. A few hundred feet away with slightly blond short curly hair and a bowler hat with an air of anticipation was Finley. As he was walking to the meeting, Finley thought of his family at home. His wife, Moira, was probably in the long process of cooking the evening meal for their family of two girls and a boy, who were playing in and around the house, mostly inside so she could watch them. They lived in town in a little house on a side street. Their neighbors were friendly and nothing ever happened there to be worried about, but you never knew as there was a rough element that occasionally did their thing as it were, he thought to himself. Anyway, he was happy to have the assignment because a few years ago when he had just come to
town one of the places that he had looked for work was the Averill company. Though not hiring at the time, the hiring manager referred him to his current employer. When he went to the paper, they apparently liked the reference by the looks on their faces, and hired him on the spot. The man who referred him turned out to be Mr. Averill himself. From little bits of information that he had gotten over the years, it turned out that Mr. Averill was a bit of a folk hero to many people. Mr. Donley wanted to separate legend from fact. While he was mulling these points over in his mind, his teeth which had really been bothering him off and on for the past couple of weeks were giving him some more trouble so he might go to a dentist after the interview. They weren't really bothering him bad today. Oh well, he thought, he'd see after the meeting how he felt.
Upon entering the foyer and peering through the oval stained glass window in the door separating the dining room from the lobby of the establishment, Mr. Averill looked around the restaurant and couldn't help thinking about the fine decorations that he had brought in from around the world. The linen tablecloths with lace on the edges from Ireland, the wildlife pictures on the wall from an artist who had recently been out West were really a coup he thought, though other patrons had stated to management that they would have preferred no reminder of where some of their meal came from. In his mind, if they paid money once, they would probably pay again, so those people might want the window seats, or one of the other dining rooms that were not so decorated. He liked them also because he owned the place and it made him feel like home with his family. Some of the furniture for the place included a chest of drawers which contained the tablecloths and cloth napkins for the customers. The silverware was kept in the kitchen until use. Every couple of months the theme would be changed to match the cuisine or the season. He didn't want people to get bored with the ambience or the food. After he sat down, the waiter asked him what he wanted to eat. He said that he wanted his usual fare, to which the waiter nodded his head and went towards the kitchen. Mr. Averill thought that he did without breakfast at home, just to get this meal. He was overweight and knew it, but didn't know how to lose it. He was breathing hard and no matter how active he was it didn't go down on the scales. The meal came. Hmm, it looked good, he thought. "Frank, how's the family?", he asked the waiter. "Fine, Mr. Averill, the boys are doing well in school". That sounds good. You know, if your oldest Tom wants to he can come work for me. We have openings in the office and loading dock operations. I'll tell him about it, sir. Frank said with a smile. When Frank left, Mr. Averill looked at his food like an eagle looking for prey while in flight. He had one medium sized steak. Well, he did go from large to that, so it could be called reducing food intake he thought. Some mashed potatoes. Oh, I like those, he thought. Less there than before and Private Stock to drink. He thought that he was at least trying to lose weight and not look like Taft, that guy in Ohio politics. Henry thought that the steak was, as usual, out of this world. The juices were flowing inside his mouth and he could taste the meat even before he chewed it. Chew it well his mother always told him. "Hmm," he thought. Now to wash it down with some of Grandfather's favorite libation.
Mr. Averill just finished his glass, a six inch tall rather than his regular eight inch one, when Mr. Donley walked in with his writing materials under his right arm which he switched to his left before proferring his right hand to Mr. Averill who was in the process of rising from his chair for the meeting. "I see that you came prepared Mr. Donley," he said. "Yes sir, I did," answered the reporter being polite and businesslike at the same time. Mr. Averill for his almost 300 pounds could carry himself well. Once, when asked why he did not lose weight if only for health reasons, he said that he did not know, but that after he finished eating his meal of steak, potatoes, churned butter on toasted bread, he would think about it. He exercised according to the wellness craze going on at the time. Only in his case, it did not involve the brisk exercises and various vinegar and honey drinks and baths at a fitness clinic. Rather, he used his own methods of controlling weight and increasing longevity. He would drink a lot of processed water with additives, namely beer, sometimes watered down. He owned a brewery, so it was his "private stock". He explained where he got the name "Private Stock" in a story about his grandfather. Walking was a part of his daily regimen. He would walk around his farm, mostly from the main house to the barn to look at his horses. Then, he would ride one of them for a few minutes. It would get tired long before him and look it. After which, he would be hungry and eat one of those cooked whale blubber pieces that he had been eating since the early part of the century. At that time, he had met whalers in his New England hometown and
had been introduced to the native Inuit cuisine which was to be found on the western part of the continent. This simple fare was, and still is, their main staple of food. He had heard that they were a healthy lot, so early on he decided to see if this was true and whenever he could get some he did. His uncle later went to that area on one of his many adventures in the transatlantic trade business and would always be able to supply him with some during the 1830s and early 1840s while Henry still lived in Rhode Island. Later, in Virginia, because of lack of freezing accomodations and long distances overland he would have to do without this delicacy. When he got to San Francisco in the 1870s, he was able to make contact with Russian fishermen and traders who had no problems finding his delicacy. For years, he has been a constant customer and investor. After the first interview, Mr. Donley got to thinking about the subject matter of his series of articles. Mr. Donley knew that the gentleman had lived a varied life with experiences ranging from a grandfather who was successful in manufacturing to an uncle who had a western business career that had started with fur trapping out in Oregon in the early part of the century and that Mr. Averill had been in the Army and had some type of adventure in Mexico, the details of which were never clear. After the interviews, it would become apparent just how varied Mr. Averill's life had been. It would also form the basis for a long term relationship between the two families that would stretch well into the next century. Basically, Mr. Averill asked Mr. Donley what he wanted to know and that he had prepared an outline that might be a good idea if Mr. Donley asked questions according to it and that if he had another way of doing the interviewing they could do that. Mr. Donley read it. It was pretty thorough and he noted a couple of entries with a tic-tac-toe mark next to it. These read Mexican Adventure, Uncle Jerome's life, Mother, and Grandfather. He decided to jot down
questions that he would later bring up with Mr. Averill the next morning.
Back at the ranch or estate, depending on whether you asked Henry or Ophelia as she liked the grander sound of estate or plantation, Henry was dismounting his carriage that he used to travel about. He still rode horses, but most of the time he simply used the other mode of transportation. He thought about all the years that had passed and any regrets that he had. Life had been good to him and his family. Also, mother made her choices as well, ultimately spending eternity where she wanted. At his age, he was getting closer to his final destination every clock ticking second. He started thinking about the points that they covered today at the interview, plus the ones that he would be talking about tomorrow. As he was walking from the stable that he had designed and had built so many years ago, he noticed the trees with the sunlight on their tops and besides realizing that it was getting on in the day around 2 o'clock according to his pocketwatch, and time for his nap. Sleeping in midday was a habit that he had gotten into on his travels around
the world once he had the means and opportunity to do so. A lot of time had passed since he was a little boy growing up in Rhode Island, he would be talking about that with Mr. Donley, and how it made him the person that he was today. He guessed because he was uncertain what he would talk about. Oh well, that was for another day.
Contact Information:
irbycomp@hotmail.com
I left in the email for this critique. Normally, I would put more.