The short answer to how you write a query letter
A query letter is a one-page business letter of roughly 250 to 400 words that asks a literary agent to consider representing your book. It contains four pieces in a fixed order: a personalization line naming the agent and your reason for choosing them, a hook paragraph describing the protagonist and the stakes, a single metadata line giving title, genre, word count, and two comparable titles, and a brief bio stating your credentials. You write it after the manuscript is finished, you send one per agent with the personalization changed each time, and you attach only what each agency guidelines page requests.
That shape is not a creative choice. Agents read hundreds of queries a month and screen them in under two minutes, so the fixed order lets a reader find the story, the category, and the length without hunting. A letter that follows the order gets judged on the book. A letter that reinvents the order gets judged on the letter. The builder on this page takes the facts you type — title, genre, word count, hook sentences, credential, two comps — and arranges them into that expected order, then measures the result against the word budget and the completeness checks agents apply informally. Everything in the draft comes from your own sentences plus clearly marked placeholder slots. The page holds no agent directory, consults no sales database, and transmits nothing anywhere.
What each of the four parts must do
Personalization opens the letter and proves the query was written for one recipient. Name the agent, then add one concrete sentence connecting your book to their list: a client whose work shares your shelf, a stated interest from an interview, a conference panel where they described wanting your exact category. Generic praise about the agency reputation does not count and agents recognize it instantly. One specific sentence is enough, and two is the maximum before the opening starts consuming words the hook needs.
The hook paragraph carries the entire decision. In two to four sentences it must introduce the protagonist, state what they want, name what blocks them, and price what failure costs. Notice what is absent from that list: backstory, worldbuilding detail, theme statements, and any sentence beginning with a summary of the setting. The hook reads like jacket copy with sharper consequences. A useful test is whether a stranger could repeat the dilemma back to you after one reading. If they can only repeat the setting, the paragraph is describing scenery instead of pressure.
The metadata line answers the commercial questions in one breath: title, genre, finished word count, and two comparable titles. Agents use this line to place the book on a mental shelf before they have read a page. Precision matters more than modesty here. State the exact count of the finished manuscript, name the genre the book will actually be shelved in rather than the one you wish it belonged to, and choose comps that a bookseller would shelve beside yours. The line is short and every word in it gets weighed.
The bio closes the commercial case with your qualifications in one or two sentences. Prior publications, relevant professional expertise, a degree in the subject, membership in a professional body, or a genuine reader community all belong here. Debut authors without credits should state whatever is true rather than apologize for what is missing. A greenhouse manager querying a botanical mystery, a public defender querying a courtroom thriller, a teacher querying a middle-grade novel — each of those carries weight because each connects the writer to the material. Close with thanks and an offer of the synopsis and sample pages, then sign with full contact details.
How the assembly arithmetic works, with a worked example
The builder treats a query as a word budget of 250 to 400 words divided among five sections: personalization at roughly 25 to 40 words, the hook at 120 to 200, metadata plus comps at 25 to 40, the bio at 40 to 70, and the closing at 15 to 25. Those ranges sum to the convention, and the tool counts every word you enter against them. Fixed framing text — the salutation, the representation request, the thanks, the signature placeholders — contributes a stable overhead of about 65 to 70 words, so the practical question is always how large your hook and bio are against the remaining room.
Walk through one full calculation. Suppose you enter the title The Glass Orchard, the genre Mystery / Thriller, and a finished count of 82,000 words. The opening line the tool composes reads as a single sentence seeking representation with those three facts inside it, and that line costs about 20 words. Your hook paragraph runs 168 words across five sentences. The comp line naming two recent titles costs about 18 words. Your bio at 52 words states six years managing a commercial greenhouse, debut status, and one professional membership. The closing thanks plus the offer of synopsis and pages plus the signature placeholders cost about 26 words. Add them: 20 plus 168 plus 18 plus 52 plus 26 equals 284 words of assembled draft. That total sits inside the 250 to 400 convention with room to personalize, the hook sits inside its 120 to 200 lane, and the bio sits inside its 40 to 70 lane. The tool reports a pass and the remaining work is judgment: replacing the bracketed slots, confirming comp dates, and checking the count against the genre band.
Now change one input and watch the verdict move. Keep everything identical but extend the hook to 260 words by adding backstory about the grandmother and the orchard history. The arithmetic becomes 20 plus 260 plus 18 plus 52 plus 26, which equals 376 words. That total is still inside the convention, so length alone does not fail — but the hook now exceeds its 200-word lane, and the tool flags the imbalance in its recommendations. The fix is not trimming evenly across the letter. The fix is cutting roughly 60 words of history from the hook so the section returns to its lane while the total settles near 315. This is the general principle behind every recommendation the page gives: adjust the section that broke its budget, not the whole letter.
Change a different input instead. Keep the 168-word hook but delete both comps and the credential. The total becomes 20 plus 168 plus a placeholder comp line near 20 plus a placeholder bio near 15 plus 26, which equals about 249 words. The length looks acceptable, yet the metadata score drops to 3 of 5 and the verdict warns, because two of the commercial questions now have no answer. Word count alone never certifies a query. Completeness and length are scored separately and both must clear.
Illustrative hypothetical example one: a debut mystery near the middle of the budget
Consider an illustrative hypothetical writer with a finished 82,000-word mystery called The Glass Orchard. She manages a commercial greenhouse, belongs to a professional crime-writing association, and has never published a novel. Her hook runs about 170 words: a botanist inherits a glass orchard, plans a quick sale, discovers the night watchman dead among grafted trees, finds grafting wax linking the body to her late grandmother, stays through harvest to trace a missing irrigation log, and must decide between a developer buyout that clears every debt and exposing whoever used the orchard trust to conceal a killing. Her comps are two mysteries published within the last five years that share her tone and readership.
Run through the checks the way the tool performs them. The hook names a protagonist with a profession, a goal that reverses, an obstacle with two human faces in the foreman and the brother, and a closing choice with a price. At 170 words it sits in the 120 to 200 lane with roughly 30 words of spare room, which is exactly the slack personalization needs. The metadata line is complete at five of five: title, genre, count, comp one, comp two. The count of 82,000 sits inside the mystery band of 70,000 to 90,000, so no length apology is required anywhere in the letter. The bio converts a supposed weakness — debut status — into a relevant credential, because greenhouse management certifies the botanical detail the plot turns on. Total assembly lands near 285 words. The verdict is a pass, and the honest remaining tasks are all outside the tool: confirming the two comp publication years, writing one specific personalization sentence per agent, and replacing the contact placeholders with real details.
The lesson from this hypothetical case is that a pass comes from balance across sections rather than brilliance in one. No single sentence here is extraordinary. The structure does the work because every section stays inside its lane and every commercial question has an answer.
Illustrative hypothetical example two: a long fantasy that triggers the band warning
Consider a second illustrative hypothetical writer with a finished 128,000-word fantasy called The Salt Meridian. His hook runs a strong 185 words with a clear protagonist, a mutiny, and a drowning city. His comps are current and his bio cites three short-story publications in recognized magazines. The assembly totals near 300 words and every placeholder is filled. Many writers would expect a pass, and on pure letter mechanics the draft is genuinely good.
The tool warns anyway, and the reason is the genre band. The fantasy band used here spans 90,000 to 120,000 words, and 128,000 sits above it. This flag is not a judgment on the novel. It reflects the commercial reality that debut fantasy above the band faces a harder acquisition path because production cost, pricing, and reader expectations all shift with length. The warning tells the writer to check the manuscript before querying: whether 8,000 or more words can come out in revision, whether the book is truly one volume or two, and whether the query should acknowledge anything at all about length. It says nothing of the sort inside the letter itself — the count is stated plainly and the story is allowed to carry the request.
Compare the two hypothetical outcomes side by side. The mystery passes because every section including the count sits inside convention. The fantasy warns on exactly one input while its prose sections score well. That contrast demonstrates how the tool separates letter quality from positioning risk. A beautiful hook cannot fix a count problem, and a count problem does not mean the hook needs rewriting. Each flag points at its own section, and each fix lives in that section.
Edge cases and failure modes worth knowing before you send
A missing hook is the most common failure and the tool refuses to dignify it with a partial score. Without two to four sentences of story, there is no query, only stationery. Write the hook first, then return to the builder. A hook under fifteen words fails for the same reason: a single clause cannot contain a protagonist, a goal, an obstacle, and stakes simultaneously, so the draft cannot be evaluated as a letter.
A total under 180 words reads as a pitch fragment rather than a query, even when every field contains something. The usual cause is a one-sentence hook plus placeholder bio. Lengthen the hook toward the 120-word floor and write the actual bio before judging the result. A total above 550 words fails in the opposite direction. At that size the draft is being skimmed rather than read, and the standard repair is cutting the hook back under 200 words and the bio to two sentences rather than compressing the metadata line, which has no slack to give.
Placeholder slots left in place form the most embarrassing failure mode because the tool cannot clear them for you. Every draft the page produces contains bracketed positions for the agent name, your contact details, and occasionally a missing comp or bio. Those brackets are deliberate: they mark decisions only a human can make. A letter sent with any bracket intact signals a mass mailing and wastes an otherwise good hook. Replace each one, then read the letter aloud once to catch any survivor.
Comp selection fails in three recurring ways. The first is naming decade-defining phenomena as comps, which tells the reader you do not know the current shelf. The second is naming books more than about five years old without acknowledging the gap, which suggests the same unfamiliarity more quietly. The third is naming books you have not actually read, which collapses the moment an agent asks what specifically yours shares with them. The tool counts comp slots and reminds you of the recency convention, but publication years and genuine familiarity are checks you perform yourself against a bookshop shelf or a library catalog.
Word count edge cases deserve separate attention. A count of zero or a blank field breaks the metadata line and draws a warning even when the prose is strong. A memoir entered under a novel genre label misstates the work noun, so the builder switches its wording for memoir entries — verify the genre selection matches the manuscript before copying the opening. Round-number estimates such as an even 80,000 on an unfinished draft misrepresent the book; enter the finished count and query only finished work. Nonfiction proposals follow different conventions entirely, with proposals and platforms rather than complete manuscripts, so this assembly fits novels and memoirs and should not be forced onto prescriptive nonfiction.
Credential edge cases cut both directions. Debut writers often write apologetic bios that spend scarce words explaining the absence of credits, which the tool cannot detect but you can prevent: state what is true and stop. Experienced writers make the opposite error and attach a full curriculum vitae, pushing the bio past 70 words and the total toward the ceiling. Two sentences is the discipline in both cases. Anything longer belongs on an author website, not in the letter.
Genre-specific guidance for the count and the hook
Fantasy queries carry the longest band here, 90,000 to 120,000 words, because the readership accepts worldbuilding weight. The hook discipline is therefore stricter: name the protagonist and the choice, and resist spending hook words on magic systems, histories, or maps. If the count exceeds the band, address the manuscript before querying rather than explaining the length inside the letter.
Mystery and thriller queries sit in a 70,000 to 90,000 band with fast hooks. The convention favors a body or a crime early in the paragraph, a detective or amateur with a reason to pursue it, and a complication that blocks the straightforward path. Amateur-sleuth credibility matters, so the bio should certify any professional knowledge the solution depends on.
Romance queries work the same 70,000 to 100,000 range with a hook built around two people and the specific force keeping them apart. Name both leads, state the attraction and the barrier in concrete terms, and indicate the promised emotional resolution without summarizing every plot turn. Comps should share your heat level and subgenre rather than merely your century.
Science fiction queries run 90,000 to 115,000 with hooks that lead on the dilemma rather than the technology. One sentence of premise orientation is enough before the protagonist, the decision, and the cost take over. Comps dated more than five years back age especially fast in this category, so verify years with extra care.
Horror queries stay lean at 70,000 to 95,000, and the hook should demonstrate control: dread escalates across the sentences rather than arriving as adjectives. State what is wrong, why this protagonist cannot walk away, and what the entity or situation will take. A bio noting relevant short-fiction credits or community membership reads well here.
Historical fiction runs 85,000 to 115,000, and the hook must prove the history serves a story rather than displaying research. Lead with the character and the jeopardy, let one period detail certify authority, and keep the remaining texture for the pages. The bio is the natural home for research credentials, language skills, or archival work.
Literary fiction occupies 70,000 to 100,000 with hooks that foreground voice and pressure over plot machinery. The dilemma still needs stating plainly — a reader should be able to repeat what is at stake — but the sentences may carry more style than a thriller hook would. Comps should share sensibility and readership rather than plot shape.
Memoir and nonfiction entries use the 60,000 to 90,000 band with adjusted wording, since a memoir is complete at a count rather than a novel of one. The hook must establish why this life story belongs to a public readership: the events, the arc, and the perspective only this writer holds. Platform and expertise weigh heavily, so spend the bio sentences on credentials, communities, and any audience already assembled.
Questions writers ask once the draft exists
Writers often wonder whether the personalization sentence genuinely changes outcomes or merely decorates the letter. It changes outcomes because it routes the query: a sentence connecting your book to a specific client or stated interest shows the submission belongs on that desk rather than any desk. The research behind it also protects you, since an agent who never handles your category is a rejection you can avoid before spending the slot.
Another recurring question concerns how much plot the hook should reveal, including the ending. The working rule is to cover roughly the first third of the book through the complication that commits the protagonist, and to stop before twists, climaxes, or resolutions. Agents request synopses precisely because endings belong in a separate document. A hook that summarizes the finale reads as unsure what suspense is for.
Writers also ask whether to mention multiple books, series plans, or a sequel already drafted. One clause is sufficient: state that the novel stands alone with series potential, or name it as the planned first volume, then move on. Unfinished future volumes should never be presented as assets. The query sells the finished manuscript in front of you.
A frequent worry is whether simultaneous submissions are acceptable and whether to say so. Standard practice permits querying many agents at once unless a specific agency requests exclusivity, which is rare at the query stage. No disclosure line is needed in the letter itself. Track every send in a simple log with the date, the agent, the agency, the materials requested, and the response, because response windows stretch across months and memory will not hold fifty threads.
Questions about attachments resolve to a single habit: follow each agency guidelines page exactly. Some request the first ten pages pasted into the message, some request fifty, some request none until asked. Never attach files unasked, never paste chapters into a letter built for 400 words, and never rewrite this letter to smuggle in pages. The letter earns the sample; it does not contain it.
Finally, writers ask how many queries to send and when to revise. A common rhythm is small batches of eight to ten, then a pause to read the pattern in the responses. Silence or form rejections across two full batches usually indict the hook or the positioning rather than luck, and that is the moment to rewrite the paragraph and recheck it here. Requests for pages, even without offers, indicate the letter is working and the manuscript must carry the next stage.
Doing the revision work this tool plans
A builder can arrange sentences and flag a count, but the improvement happens in drafting, and that drafting belongs somewhere you can iterate comfortly. Co-Writer at /write is the destination this site provides for that next stage: open the flagged hook or the thin bio there, revise the sentences directly, and return here to reassemble and recheck the totals. The loop is deliberate — plan the shape on this page, do the sentence-level rewriting in Co-Writer at /write, and confirm the result against the word budget before any agent sees it.
A final sending checklist in plain order
Confirm the manuscript is finished and the entered count matches it exactly. Confirm the hook runs 120 to 200 words across two to four sentences and that a stranger can repeat the dilemma. Confirm both comps were published within about five years and that you have read each one. Confirm the bio states true credentials in two sentences without apology or résumé. Replace the agent name, the title-specific reason, and every contact placeholder, customizing per recipient. Check the agency guidelines page for that agent, include exactly the requested sample material and nothing more, and record the send in your log. Then begin the next personalization, because querying is a sequence of single considered letters rather than one broadcast.