Tag Archives: literary agents

Why they say “no”

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POD-dy Mouth sheds a bit more insight into the agent rejection thing — specifically why an agent would love your novel but still decide he/she wouldn’t be able to sell it:

What you, aspiring writer, are forgetting, is that while an agent may sell (as an example) mysteries and yours is a stellar one, he/she may know that his/her editorial contacts will not go for your particular mystery for some offhand reason. Agents, to varying degrees, sell to the same editors over and over. Examples: Jenny Bent (Trident) sells regularly to Denise Roy (S&S), Dorian Karchmar (William Morris) sells regularly to Claire Wachtel (William Morrow), Elaine Koster sells regularly to Carrie Feron (William Morrow), and so forth. The point is these agents know what these editors want . . . specifically. So if your novel’s protagonist happens to be a coke addict and Agent A’s contacts aren’t much for characters with substance abuse issues, you’re out of luck, no matter how deftly written your novel may be.

Interesting. So to some degree, agents act as scouts for particular editors . . . you learn something new every day.

Another lit agent blogging: Rachel Vater

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OK, this is so cool. Bernita at An Innocent A-Blog has posted about some blogs she reads regularly, including one kept by literary agent Rachel Vater of Lowenstein-Yost Associates.

Another agency to add to my blogroll :-)

But it gets better. I queried that agency in July (got a “no” back the next day) and it turns out, Rachel blogs about queries she reads and her response to them. So by scrolling back to July 10 I found her note about mine:

4. An adult novel about discovering little fairies. It’s really the tone of this novel that makes me think it’s not right for me. It seems sweet, light, and romantic. Maybe perfect for someone else, but I tend to like very funny, or else very kick ass, or darker, edgier paranormal novels. Sweet isn’t quite for me.

This really points out how fraught with peril is the querying process. My first version of my query read too dark (Kristin Nelson passed on it for that reason!) so I lightened it. Then maybe midway through the querying process, I decided I’d gotten it too sweet and modified it again.

I don’t know if the book is right for Vater (and since I’ve received multiple requests for fulls at this point I’m not going to lose any sleep over it) but I think I missed my chance with her because of my query, not because of the book itself.

Incidentally, the interface for submitting to this agency isn’t an email address — it’s an online form. As a result, I wasn’t able to include 5 sample pages, which I typically do as per the divine Miss Snark’s regularly repeated advice.

The sample pages would be plenty to show that the novel’s tone isn’t exactly “sweet and light,” although it has its comic and romantic moments.

Coincidentally, Miss Snark touched on the inherent inadequecy of query letters again this weekend:

You can write the world’s worst query letter and if you have good writing attached to it, I’m not going to pass. It’s not the query letter that keeps you from “yes”: it’s the writing. I’ve said it before, here it is again: most query letters suck. Good writing trumps all.

Two of my requests for fulls came from the query plus first five pages. It’s the five pages that dunnit. I so owe Miss Snark.

OK, now I get the “no attachments” thing

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I’ve always assumed the reason agents automatically reject e-queries that arrive with attachments is the threat of viruses.

But look at what writers send to Wylie-Merrick.

Writers send us e-mail attachments with nothing else in the body of the e-mail message.

Writers send us e-mail attachments with a note in the body of the message telling us that the query is in the attachment. We have never quite understood this one.

Writers send us e-mail attachments that include pictures of themselves, their children, their pets, and sometimes their illustrations.

Here’s the thing. Any agent who’s any good has no shortage of prospective writers he/she could sign. Why bother with people who can’t even send an email without creating unnecessary work for the agent?

Let alone emailing photos of the kids.

I’d delete them unread, too.

Would you want this agent?

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Found this tonight via Booksquare: The New York Observer‘s got a feature by Sheelah Kolhatkar about literary agent William Clegg who, in 2005, “suddenly stopped coming in to his office or returning phone calls.”

Here’s how Kolhatkar describes Clegg:

[His] reputation in publishing circles is as an attentive agent who garners significant (sometimes inflated) advances for his authors, but who was perhaps less focused on the nuts and bolts of his writers’ careers. (“Sometimes they were better-known for the advances they got than for their sales,”  joked one editor.) One of Mr. Clegg’s former authors described him as good at “holding your hand, calling you and telling you you’re fabulous and that no one’s more talented than you … he was almost like a personal manager. He was a cheerleader. I think that’s what a lot of people miss.”

He is described as a charmer who could be very aggressive in business dealings and who was, at one time, a fixture on the social circuit, known for hosting parties at the apartment he lived in on lower Fifth Avenue.

Okay, so imagine this. You have an agent. He’s brilliant. He tells you you’re fabulous. He’s gotten you an advance that would make other writers in your genre roll over & wet themselves.

You’re an active client, so maybe he’s got your latest book out with publishers, or maybe you have a contract that’s being negotiated.

And suddenly, with no warning, your agent just vanishes.

Would you want this type of agent?

If he reappeared months later and called you, would you go back to him?

:-)

Editors’ noses knowses

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POD-DY Mouth sponsored a contest this week: she posted excerpts from 24 novels. Some were from commercially published books; some were from POD books.

The object of the contest was to figure out which was which.

I tried it and got half of them right. Nobody scored more than 80 percent.

But here’s what’s most telling, from her post-contest post:

The statistics are interesting, though–far more on point that I would’ve imagined. Here are the average scores broken down by group:

Average Score, Editors: 63% (19 exams)
Average Score, Agents: 60% (26 exams)
Average Score, Authors: 53% (72 exams)
Average Score, Other: 46% (550 exams +/-)

So it turns out editors and agents have a keener eye than I’d guessed. I suppose it makes sense that unpublished works go from author to agent to editor. Looks like we’re not turning the publishing industry on its ear anytime soon.

Yeah. And if you want someone’s advice on whether your WIP is publishable, you’re better off trusting an agent’s rejection letter than a lay person’s high praise.

But we already knew that, didn’t we ;-)

(Btw, POD-DY Mouth doesn’t support permalinks, so if you’ve come across this post after 7/28/06, you’ll need to scroll down to the entry from the 27th to find the post from which I’ve quoted.)

Beginning a new book

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It’s the balm, they say, that soothes the query-monitoring itch.

I’m excited about it–the new book–but it’s scary too, vertigo-like to start to peer into the widening crack that’s now opened into yet another world and realize I have no choice, if I’m going to capture it for the telling, but to squeeze through the opening, close my eyes, and let go . . .

When writers are in the driver’s seat

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Jessica Faust at BookEnds has a post up on her blog that discusses an important turning point in a writer’s search for an agent. When you receive an offer for representation, she writes, you are suddenly in the driver’s seat:

This is your opportunity to contact all the agents reviewing your work, and, if more than one offers, interviewing them to find the one agent you feel is best for you and your work. The one who shares your vision and enthusiasm and the one that you feel you can work the best with.

Do click through and read the whole post. Jessica relays a story of an author who didn’t do this–and quite probably wrecked her chances to sell her book as a result.

E-queries and a prediction (you read it here first!!!!)

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Of the 20-odd agents I’ve queried so far for my current novel, I’ve done only one by mail.

All the rest have been email queries.

I have to believe I’m not the only writer who’s inclined to favor e-querying. It’s cheaper and less trouble than printing and packaging a snail mail query. And you also get answers faster. Granted, most of them will be “no thanks” kind of answers but even they feel good in a weird kind of way. At least you have evidence that things are moving.

But here’s the thing. Many agents — many very good agents — still prefer traditional paper queries.

So I hereby predict that writers who take the time to craft and mail traditional queries will, at some point, have a slight advantage in the agent-hunting game. Because at some point the majority of the great unpubbed will be dashing off e-queries. Which means anyone willing to put in a bit of extra effort and expense will be rewarded with a slightly less-crowded playing field.

I predict you’ll soon be reading writer-advice articles that recommend you seek agents who only accept snail mail queries as a way of boosting your agent-hunting odds.

You read it here, first.

:-)

In praise of literary agents

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No, I’m not writing this post on the off-hand chance that one of the agents I query will happen to find my blog. Although I don’t mind any agent knowing how grateful I am for what they do for writers.

This is a true valentine.

I started composing these thoughts a couple of weeks ago as I reflected on all the squirrely faux pas (I am so tempted to edit that to faux pases — better yet, faux pawses — squirrely faux pawses, get it???) that I’ve committed since completing my first novel some years ago (genre romance, MS hidden away now for all time).

Some of the “shoulda known better” things I’ve done:

* Submitted work that wasn’t, ahem, “polished.”
* Subset of above — submitted work from the wrong file. So the agent got the version that wasn’t polished. Sob.
* Sent sample pages from the middle of my book, instead of the beginning.
* Queried for a WIP — when I have zippo fiction publishing credentials.
* Assumed a request for a full was automatically a request for exclusivity.

Yup, pretty clueless.

And how have agents responded?

With grace and kindness and tact.

And that’s not all. More than just overlooking my newbie foolishness, agents have given me feedback that’s been immeasurably valuable to me as a writer. Their comments have helped me with everything from voice to plotting.

So, if I ever do get published, it will be thanks, in part, to the encouragement and advice I’ve gotten from agents — and keep in mind, these are people who will never make a dime off my writing (although I sure hope some agent will, one of these days).

It’s easy to grouse about the publishing industry, about the difficulty of navigating the querying process — about how formal or bloodless or even curt agents’ rejections can seem, sometimes.

But the fact is, agents want us writers to do well. And most of the time, that’s what shows through — in my experience, anyway.

(Somewhat related — Maureen McGowan blogs here about misconceptions of a newbie novelist, via Diana Peterfreund.

Got a nibble

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I have a draft of my new novel done, I’ve started querying, and I’ve gotten my first nibble: request for partial came in late yesterday, emailed it out today.

Nothing in the world is more fun than this. Even though I know what a long shot it is . . . how hard it is to fall short. It’s still about the most fun of anything I can imagine.