#not wrting

[cantsleephomesick]

im in a constant state of trying to calm down

[tragedybunny]

Bedroom Hymns - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW - Breeding / Sex Pollen

This is technically the second part of my wedding fic Dance With Me Under the Diamonds, See Me Like Breath in the Cold. I separated it out as it is just porn with a small tie-in to the plot. There will be another part that continues the story that doesn't require reading this. Reader is based on an Archfey Warlock. Tried some new things here and I'm not sure if they worked but oh well.

Reader and Astarion are happily married and celebrate their wedding night. But there may be more occurring than they realize.

Your hand fumbles for the handle of the door behind you, a difficult task with Astarion kissing and nipping your exposed skin. The door finally relents and swings open, to your endless relief. Maybe it was all the wine, but you feel as though there’s a fire stoking inside you, your skin radiating heat, to go along with the growing aching need between your legs for your now husband. You answer the door’s creak with a whimper. “Aren’t you in quite the state, my Love?” Astarion teases you, whispering against your ear. 

There’s a blank in your mind where a witty retort should be, answering instead with another hungry kiss, and gasping when your legs are swept out from under you. Astarion carries you over the threshold of your home, turning to kick the door shut. It slams loud enough for you to be grateful Scratch is with Shadowheart tonight. That’s the last thought you have to spare for anything that’s not him though. 

There’s no questions asked as Astarion starts for the stairs of your house, just your breathing, heavy with anticipation. The world around you has a haze to it, like it’s shimmering with summer heat. The need has turned to a feeling of emptiness that is almost painful. Arms looped around his neck to hold yourself steady, you whine in frustration you haven’t reached your bedroom yet. “Gods I need you.” 

His grip on you tightens and he growls in your ear, something wild in his voice you’ve never heard before, but it makes you want to spread your legs and beg for him. “Soon my Sweet.” 

Just beyond the last stair is the cozy bedroom the two of you share when you’re not adventuring beyond the walls of Baldur’s Gate. Safe and secure, the shutters block any sunlight when locked down, protecting your beloved while he sleeps next to you. It seems you’ll be needing it before either of you get any sleep tonight. Astarion sets your feet on the ground just before the bed and you open your mouth to protest, but he hushes you by grabbing your waist firmly. “Patience, Love, let's get this dress off.” Skilled fingers set to work unlacing you out of the dress that seems more like a prison, you lean into that touch, craving him. A cool finger bushes along your skin and the inferno inside you rises, hips rock back, the curve of your ass pushing against him, feeling how he’s already half hard. An arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. “Behave or I’ll cut it off you, your choice Darling,” his voice is low as he speaks the words against your ear and you shiver. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recall it was an expensive dress and you were fond of it. You focus on holding yourself still. “Good girl,” he coos at you and you can feel your small clothes becoming damp with your arousal. 

By some miracle of some god somewhere, he manages to free you before you turn into a writhing mess. Frantically, the two of you work to rid you of your undergarments before turning to Astarion’s clothes, the sound of tearing fabric letting you know they don't survive his attentions. “Help me,” you all but beg, leaving searing kisses along his skin as you undo buttons and trouser laces. He obliges, aiding in removing the offending garments until he’s bare before you. The fire and wanting fade just enough for you to drink him in for a moment, and you feel a giddy smile come on that you can’t repress. So perfect, he’s yours and yours alone. “You’re so beautiful, my Love,” you breathe out, almost reverently, and pull him in for another kiss. 

Again he lifts you in his arms, finally settling you onto the bed and kneeling between your open thighs. One finger drags languidly along your slit. “Look at you all soaked and swollen already, needy little thing.” 

“P-please Astarion,” you thrust unthinkingly toward his hand, your own reaching out to stroke him, thumb swiping through the liquid beaded at his tip. A throaty moan is your reward. 

“Oh my Love, just you wait.” He sits back, content to let you touch him. Aching and still desperate for relief, you continue, wanting nothing more than to please him. Soft groans escape him as he rocks his hips into touch before finally taking mercy on you. 

Pushing your hands away, he grips your hips and you obey his wordless command, turning so that you're kneeling before him, elbows propping you up. “My gorgeous wife.” Lips trace their way from the base of your spine up to your shoulders, hands cup your breasts, kneading them, thumbs brushing over peaked nipples. With a whimper, you grind yourself against him, the barest teasing touch of his cock driving you mad. “You want to be fucked so badly, don’t you. But you want more than that, you want to be filled, to be bred, like a good little wife.” He’s so close to you, words speaking of desires unknown until this moment, but it’s there in you, the yearning for what he promises. Desperately, you writhe against him and he pushes your hips away. “Say it.” One hand grips your chin, thumb worrying your bottom lip. 

“I want to be filled with you,” his thumb slips between your lips and you suck at it gratefully, “bred by you.” 

The press of him into you grants blissful relief to the emptiness, and you both still for a moment, bound as one. And then he moves, slow and deliberate, burying himself again and again. There are no words from you, just sounds of need, of pleading for more. “My Love, taking me so good.”  His hand dips between your legs, finding your clit and tracing small circles over it as the rhythm of hips increases. A few more moments of those heady sensations and, with a keening sound, you clench around him, desperate for him to fulfill the promise of earlier. 

He’s there right after you, one hand digging into your hip, pulling you tight against him, the other still playing with you. The feel of his seed pumping into you is almost enough to send you over the edge again. Gasping, ragged breaths are the only sound as you obediently remain how he positioned you, taking all of him, crying out when he pulls out of you. 

The empty ache returns, but not for long. “Hmm,” fingers press inside you, spreading you. 

“Love,” you plead, the need burning again at his touch. 

“I don’t think I’m done with you yet, my desperate, sweet little thing.” His touch slips back around to your clit and you hiss at how sensitive it's become. The discomfort fades soon enough and you're lost in the euphoria of it. 

His body covers yours, and teeth lightly nip into your shoulder and lap at the little drips of blood that escape. “Astarion.” You lose yourself again.

The world blurs around you, the only constants, his touch and your own ragged breath. There are no thoughts, only the drive to be taken again, like a wild creature in heat. Pliantly, you let him guide you to your back, where you stare up at him, enraptured. “Gods you’re incredible,” you whisper, “my husband.” 

Leaning over you, he kisses your forehead gently. “Incredibly lucky.” Fingers brush your hair back and trace your cheeks, your lips, along your chin. “You’re the most amazing person in the whole world. And somehow you’re mine.” He ponders you for a moment, staring at you like you’re some holy thing, as though he’s engaged in an act of worship. Then his lips catch yours and you feel the length of his cock slide along you. Despite what you want, it’s painful as it presses against the exhausted bundle of nerves between your legs, leaving you whining. “One more for me, you can do that, can’t you?” His voice, sultry against your ear, is all the encouragement you need, and you nod. “Good girl.” 

Legs wrap around his waist as enters you one more time. “I…ohhhh…hells,” divine torment, pain flowing into pleasure, desperation driving away exhaustion. 

“Shhh, Darling, you’re doing so good,” he moves inside you, guiding you back to your precipice. Lips and teeth are everywhere all over you, fingers back to playing with you, you mewl and cry his name over and over until nothing makes sense. Your eyes are closed, all you know is the feeling of him, waves of rapture crash into one another and become one, and you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. 

Finally, with a jerk he stills and you feel at last gloriously sated, filled as promised. Collapsing next to you, he pulls you onto his chest and nuzzles your hair. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” your eyes flutter close, your body finally succumbing to exhaustion, the strange need fading away. And then you remember, the woman at the park, the bottle, a gift from summer. Fuck, who knows what your patron gifted you with, you should really tell Astarion when you wake up. 

Tag list:

@micropoe10  @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

 @mxxny-lupin  @azu21things @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87

@fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

[betweenblackberrybranches]

So just a small thing on the truth virus au

So here it is based on @garbagechocolate s amazing idea <333

I know the virus only makes you say what you think and not be more agressive but sun has been through it for some time and his feelings towards y/n are super complicated so he gets pretty irritated by them

Idk most truth virus comics had the people who werent affected by the virus keep a pretty level head but if someone i cared about was mean to me i would deffinetly cry so hard

Sun probably feels a little bad for making y/n cry eventhough he very much ment all the things he said

[writeouswriter]

Moving up in the writing world*

*Opened the correct untitled WIP document on the first try

[mems-sama]

Conquering the First Chapter: A Guide for Writers

Have you ever wasted hours staring at a blank page, waiting for inspiration?

You struggle to come up with an idea for your story, but finally, inspiration strikes. You write the first chapter, believing it will make you a best-selling author. However, upon re-reading, you realize it needs improvement.

And then you toss all of it away.

Hey, I get it. Wrestling with that first chapter can feel like trying to solve a Rubik's cube blindfolded—it's a real head-scratcher! You want to hook your readers right from the start, but sometimes it feels like your words are doing the cha-cha in the wrong direction.

And let's be real, staring at that chapter for too long can make you want to throw your laptop out the window and start a career in llama farming instead. But let's stop for a moment. Take a deep breath and exhale.

Know that you're not the only one who's felt this way.

Loads of writers have gone through the "my first chapter is a dumpster fire" phase.

The good news? You can turn that dumpster fire into a sparkling beacon of literary goodness. Here are some practical things you can do in the meantime.

Step one: Give yourself a break. Seriously, put that chapter in timeout and come back to it later with a fresh perspective.

Step two: Get some outside opinions. Share your chapter with fellow writers or beta readers who can offer constructive feedback. And if all else fails, dive into the first chapters of books you love for a little inspiration pick-me-up.

Step three: Shake things up. If your first chapter is feeling stale, try approaching it from a different angle. Maybe start in the middle of a scene, or introduce a surprising twist early on. Don't be afraid to take risks and experiment with different narrative techniques to see what works best for your story.

Step four: Embrace the mess. Writing is a messy process, and it's okay to have a messy first draft. Don't get too hung up on making everything perfect right away. Sometimes, you need to embrace the chaos and let your creativity flow freely. You can always refine and polish your work later.

It's totally normal to have moments where you want to launch your laptop into the stratosphere. But remember, Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither is a perfect first chapter.

Keep at it, keep tweaking, keep pushing, and you'll get there. You've got this!

Next time, we'll discuss how to make the first chapter of your book more captivating for your readers. Make sure to catch it. Thank you for reading and have a great day!

[athena-theunicorn]

Link always followed Zelda. He was always willing to give chase. He was always willing to find her. He was always willing to spend time with her and make her feel better.

A century ago, he would run after her escape attempts. He would track her down and bring her back. Or he would let her wander, let her explore just to make her smile. Or he would make it up to her by sneaking her away himself. Once Link snuck her to Akkala ancient tech lab all the way from the Spring of Power.

A century later, he would run after her through the fields and pastures and roads. He would follow her like a puppy. He wouldn't leave her side. He would always make her smile. Once they were spotted in the forests outside of Hateno, running around like kids.

Now, he runs after her shadow. He spots her in the sky and runs to action. He chases her over fields and sky islands and cliffsides. He runs up and down her back. He sits on her head and braids silent princesses into it. Once he chased her all across Hyrule field for miles and once he finally caught her, feel asleep on her head.

[catchingdaydreams]

Sleep paralysis demon Miguel was conjured on a rainy night. You had trouble sleeping from the storm rattling your windows. The tree branches outside cast vigorously moving shadows in front of you. If provided some entertainment while an episode of another annoying sleep paralysis was becoming onto you.

Sudden thunder erupted outside, what usually would cause you to jump, you remained still in your bed, motionless.

What was starting to become motionless too was the shadows.

Your quick glance at the window as lightning flickered by was all that the entity needed.

You had an unwelcomed guest.

It wasn't noticeable at first, the loaming shadows on your wall. But you instantly freaked out as an arm reached out, grabbing the end of your bed post. Its grip was firm as it forced the rest of its body out. Its build was that in the form of a tall man. Any other detail was too obscured from the darkness it loomed over itself.

While this was happening you, internally, was freaking the fuck out. You tried all your might to move your body, to cower from that thing. You've had your mind play tricks on you before. It was second nature to experience these things in your current state. But your instincts are going haywire right now. It was an upright force towards your flight responses now. This was not a trick of your mind, it was real and you needed to escape. But you were utterly helpless. All you could do was to stare at the entity.

It stared back.

It opened its eyes amongst the void, projecting fiery red. It was the only distinguishing thing you could make out. As like with its body, his face was still pretty unidentifiable. It beamed with such malice that it pierced your soul. If you could you would have gulped.

You prayed whatever that thing was, that it would not move any closer. You had no clue what it was nor why was it looking at you like you had done something to atrocious him....maybe in another life perhaps? You don't really believe in that shit but what you are experiencing now is tearing your sense of reality so you really don't know what to believe anymore.

The man? hovered above you as its entire body was out of the wall. He never did move after that. Or rather didn't have a chance.

Thunder once again boomed outside. Seconds only passed as lightning struck the sky, flashing your vision. And with a blink, the man before you vanished.

Your eyes roamed the rest of the room in a panic. You were still freaking out, thinking that the entity moved somewhere else within your room. But you couldn't find him in your search. On edge you didn't drop your defense that easily. You waited for a bit, a few minutes or so. And sighed. You involuntarily you held your breath from that quick scare. Still on edge, yet a relief was washing over you slowly.

You didn't get sleep that night. Too afraid that it might come back that night.....he didn't though but....

What you didn't expect is that this would be a common occurrence.

The second time he showed up was much more disturbing. He came from the floor by the end of your bed, so you didn't expect his arrival until you saw his signature flash of crimson. He stood by the back bedframe. This time you got to see how large his frame was as his body was in clear view. This didn't help either as he obscured your window, blocking out much of its natural light. The only thing that shined was red.

You were pretty much hysterical the first time you saw him. You felt small and defenceless under his malicious gaze. All you could was stare into it as he did so with you. Thank the gods, you felt, that he didn't move any closer. He remained motionless by your bed post.

What was odd was that your fear, while still prominent, was easing up. Mostly it was that 15 minutes (or what felt like it ) of direct eye contact with a grumpy being was starting to become, well, boring.

While you really couldn't read his face, he could see yours. His eyes slanted, making it look smaller then it was before. If you had to guess it was as if you offended him for not being scared. You're the one who should feel offended right now. Some random spooky man thing breaks into your home and just stares at you while you're trying to sleep. Hell no. If you were able to move right now you would have scoffed and flipped him off.

You couldn't bother to be scared now, no you were mildly irritated. You move your sight away from him in spite. You had enough of this. You were drained from work and needed to try to at least sleep for a couple of hours.

You didn't look back. Not when the corner of your eyes saw his shadows move. You didn't care if he left on not as your body slowly started to ease and drift to sleep.

__________________________________

As you succumbed to slumber the man walked up to the side of your bed and sat down on the sheet. There wasn't any imprint that was made by his weight. Was just a shadow, in this form.

He sat there puzzled by your actions. Usually it would take many nights before someone didn't fear his presence anymore. It ruined his feeding. And how you went about it pissed him off.

He was a succubus. A subclass one that feeds off fear. He often appears in nightmares, shapes one's dreamscape into dread and turmoil. But lately that hadn't been satisfying to him. No matter who or what the person was, he hadn't got his fill. It was only until his brother suggested to try terrorizing within reality with a feast similar to his current taste. To dine on the fears of the people who couldn't sleep. To be the "monster under the bed" Gabe states.

But Miguel was picky with his food. His choices were limited to him. He eventually ended up as a sleep paralysis demon. Less work for him too, all he had to do was stand there and look pretty ( well to the people, look pretty Fucken terrifying). And everything would have gone perfectly too, but he met you.

Your fears taste wasn't the reason it stirred something within jim, no it was pretty bland compared to his previous feast. It was how quickly it disappeared . As a being to be feared he took full offense. He could be the bigger man and acknowledge his defeat. But he was no man he was a demon. You unwillingly challenged him, and he was going to make sure you cowered beneath him.

[dumblr]

[sacredwilderness]

At night

while he slept

I planted stars

in the ground

that-

they might

grow up to become

galaxies

and spell out

my own revolving love letter

[longreads]

The Top 5 Longreads of the Week

The horrific trafficking of intimate partners. An homage to Pitchfork. Memories of a childhood spent in a Kentucky kitchen. Risking lives for extreme skiing. And why we need to calm down about UFOs.

Read why our editors recommend these stories here. 

[cantsleephomesick]

what if one day

i wake up

and i dont want to do it anymore

[mournfulroses]

George Seferis, translated by Rex Warner, from Poems translated from the Greek; "Argonauts,"

[aurae-rori]

CSM AVENTIO AU short snippet

"Doctor," Aventurine says, as they stand there on their apartment balcony together. "What is your opinions on humans?"

"Where is this coming from?" Ratio scoffs, leaning on the railings. His irises widen, almost like a cat's, adjusting to the dark. His horns peak slightly out of his hair. He yawns, and with the light that Aventurine's lighter casts on their balcony, he can catch the way Ratio's fangs glint.

"Curiosity," Aventurine replies, and pulls out his next cigarette, placing it in front of the awaiting flame. It comes to life immediately, and he inhales it, then exhales, watching the smoke from his cigarette fade away into the dying night's sky.

"If you wish to know what I have already stated multiple times," Ratio says, "I think most humans are mediocre. They do not think for themselves. Their critical thinking skills.. gone." He glances at Aventurine's cigarettes. "Stop smoking. It'll kill you, eventually."

"Ah-ah-ah," Aventurine laughs, tilting his head back when he does. He then takes another drag. "That's the point, Doc."

"You are destroying yourself," Ratio observes, his gaze analytical.

The devil hunter grins.

The fiend stares back.

"Of course I'm destroying myself," he says. "It's a key human trait."

"I take back my observation from earlier," Ratio says instead, perfectly impassive, and yet, Aventurine can see the way his teeth grind together in the dim lighting. "Most humans are mediocre, but you are a self-sacrificial idiot."

"You've got me all figured out, don't you?" Aventurine asks with a wide, wide smile. It feels fake. It's like molten plastic on his face.

"No," Ratio replies. "I will figure you out, though."

"Good luck, fiend." It feels like a challenge. This is Aventurine's bet. He is a man of good luck - his contract to the Devil of Fortune deems it so, after all. He's been doomed since he was born, a lucky, lucky child despite the fact that Misfortune was brought to everyone around him.

Ratio will be the next to fall.

He doesn't seem bothered, though.

He grins back, all sharp teeth and inhuman eyes.

"In the pursuit of knowledge," the fiend of knowledge says, "I thank you for your luck. I won't need it."

Aventurine had known that this fiend - the fiend of knoweldge, the representation of human's fear of knowledge - would be interesting. In the way that he seemed to 'propagate' his own fear by teaching others, from the way that he enjoyed giving his knowledge to others, studying things - he was much more different then what Aventurine had in mind when it had been announced that the fiend of knowledge wanted to work with Public Safety.

However, for some reason, he was also... the perfect embodiment of knowledge. He knew too much. Inspired fear with the way he stared at people.

But not Aventurine.

Aventurine was never afraid of knowledge.

It seems that Dr. Ratio isn't afraid of misfortune, either. Maybe he believes that his knowledge will allow him to navigate the situation.

However the dice rolls..

It will be interesting.

"Here's to our new partnership," the gambler says, instead, holding up another cigarette for the fiend.

Doctor Ratio rolls his eyes, and pushes Aventurine's cigarette back towards him. His hands are warm. Almost... human.

"Keep your cigarette, gambler," he says. "I'm not intent on destroying myself in my own pursuit for knowledge, or the future. I also won't bet everything when I'm trying to achieve my goals." And then, without another word, he leaves the balcony, door sliding shut behind him as he pads back into the apartment.

Aventurine stands out there, in the cold, smoke tumbling from his lit cigarette, and the unlit one still in his other hand.

This will be interesting.

[the-soulwhispers]

The fact that music exists, makes life bearably worth living.

[phantomnio]

I am so sunburned by this point🌞

[broodparasitism]

Everything I've Learned About Querying from Talking to Agents (And Traditionally Published Authors)

Disclaimer: I'm UK based, as was everyone I spoke to. I didn't include any country specific advice, just what I think is applicable regardless of where you live, put it might be useful to know this is from a UK lens.

As part of my course I was able to go to a lot of talks with literary agents (a mixture of literary, genre and nonfiction) and I picked up a lot of useful information - a lot of it not quite so bleak as I feared! - and thought it might be helpful to compile it for anyone looking to query agents in the future, so, here goes, under the readmore:

Querying

Remember that agents want to find and publish new authors. They're not at odds with/out to get aspiring authors. They want to work with us. This is someone you're working with, so don't pick an agent you won't get along with.

Manuscripts should be queried when they are as close to finished you are able to manage. There are a few agents that are open to incomplete manuscripts, yes, but many more that flat-out refuse unfinished work. Manuscripts generally go through about ~15 rounds of edits before landing an agent.

Send query letters in batches - around five or six at a time. There is no limit to how many agents you can contact, but you can't contact more than one agent from the same agency, so make sure you've selected the most suitable one from each.

In most cases you can't submit the same manuscript to the same agent twice - so having it be as finished as possible is all the more vital.

Some of them will take a long time to respond. Some never respond at all. If it's been three months of nothing, it's safe to assume that's a rejection.

One agent said she took on about two new authors a year, which likely isn't true for them all but is probably a reasonable average. For all of them, the amount of queries they get can be in the three digits a week. I can't emphasis enough just how many they get. I take a lot of authors to mean that means it's a 0.001% chance and despair, but that assumes each manuscript has an equal chance, and they don't. Correct spelling and grammar, writing in a genre that appeals to the agent, quality sample chapters and respecting the submission guidelines (more on this later) improve the odds by a significiant amount.

One agent said he rejected about half of his submissions from the first page due to spelling and grammar mistakes and cliches, for perspective.

You'll need to pitch your book. If your book cannot be pitched in three sentences, that's a sign it has too much going on and you'll need to do some pruning.

Please don't panic if you cannot come up with an accurate pitch for your book on the fly - you're not supposed to be able to do that. A pitch takes many edits and drafts just like a manuscript.

Send your first three chapters and a synopsis (this should be a page, or two pages double spaced. It should not include every single plot point though, again, if major things end up not there at all, question if they're necessary for the manuscript).

Three chapters is the standard - as in, if the agent web page doesn't specify how many, that's what to opt for. If they say anything else, for the love of God listen. If there was a single piece of advice that the agents emphasised above all else, it was to just follow each submission requirement to a T.

There needs to be a strong hook in these chapters. If your manuscript is a bit of a slow burn, that's fine, but you can cheat a bit with a 'prologue' that's actually a very hook-y scene from later on.

Read the agent's bio page throughly and make a note of what they like, who they represent, and what they're looking for, and highlight this in the query letter.

Your query letter has to say a little about you. It doesn't have to be really personal information (but say if you're under 40, because that's rare for authors and they like that), and keep it professional but not stiff, they say. If you have any writing credentials, such as awards won or creative writing degrees, include them, as with any real life experiences that pertains to the content of your book. But no one will be rejected on the basis of not having had an interesting enough life.

Apparently one of the biggest mistakes for debut authors tend to be too many filler scenes.

In terms of looking for comparative titles, think about where you want your book to 'sit'. Often literally - go into bookstores and visualise where on the displays you could see it. It's really helpful if you can identify a specific marketing niche. Though you want to choose comparisons that sell well, but going for really obvious choices looks lazy. A TV or film comparison is fine - as long as it genuinely can be compared.

Do not call yourself the next Donna Tartt. Or JK Rowling. They are sick of this.

Don't trust agents who request exclusive submission.

Or any with a fee. Agents take a percentage of your advance/royalties - you never pay them directly.

In terms of trends (crowd booing), there's been a boom in uplifting, optimistic fiction, but more recently dark fiction has been rising in popularity and looks to have its moment. Fantasy and Gothic are both huge right now. Publishers also love what's called upmarket/book club fiction - books that toe the line between genre and literary.

But publishers aren't clairvoyant and writing to trends is a futile effort, so don't let them shape what you want to write. Some writing advice I got that I loved was to not even THINK about marketability until draft three or four.

If any agent requests your full manuscript - this is crucial - email every other agent you're waiting to hear back from and let them know. This will take your manuscript from the slush pile to the top, and you are more likely to get more offers of representation.

The agent that flatters you the most isn't necessarily the best. Be sure to ask them what their plan for the book is, and what publishers they're planning to send it to - you want them to have a precise vision. It might be that their vision misses the mark on what kind of book you wanted to write, and if so, they aren't the right agent for you.

Research like hell! A good place to start is finding out who represents authors you love (the acknowledgements pages are really helpful here). if you can, getting access to The Writer's and Artist's Yearbook is very helpful, as is The Bookseller, the lattr for checking up on specific agents. (I was warned the website search engine is awful, so google "[name] the Bookseller" to see what they've sold. That said, only the huge deals get reported, so it's not indicative of everyone they take on.

I also want to add Juliet Mushen's article on what makes a good query. I owe a lot to it, and I feel like it's a useful template!

Once Agented

Agents send a manuscript to about 18-25 publishers, typically. Most books will end up having more than one publisher interested.

It can be hard to move genres after publishing a debut novel, especially for book two, not only because it means it takes longer for you to establish yourself, but the agent that may be perfect for dealing with manuscripts for book one might not have the skills for book two.

Ask the agency/publisher about their translation rights, their rights to the US market, and film and TV rights. Ask also what time of year the book is going to come out, if being published.

It's less the book agents are interested in than it is you as an author. You will be asked what you're going to write next, so have an answer. Just an answer - you don't need another manuscript ready to go. One author said she flat-out made up a book idea on the spot, and she got away with it - just have an answer. (This is also useful to put on the query letter.)

Caveat that this is, of course, not a foolproof guide to getting a book deal, nor is it in any way unconditional endorsement of how the industry works - I just thought it would be useful to know.