Your First Novel Page 14

  The agent might try to move the conversation to more personal topics as well, such as where she lives, where she grew up and went to college, whether

  she's planning a vacation this year and where it will be, and whether she's married and has children. He wants to uncover any surprising nuggets of information that might lead to a match with a certain kind of book or a certain kind of author. He might want to find out if certain kinds of cultures fascinate her—does she love the South and fiction set in the South?—or if there are certain things she has an aversion to. For instance, if an editor has very young children, it's unlikely she'll be able to read a novel about a child in dire jeopardy with any degree of comfort.

  MAKING THE APPROACH

  AND FOLLOWING THROUGH_

  Putting all these bits of knowledge together can lead to obvious matches, but sometimes it's just food for intuition. At one lunch, I decided to bring along a first novel I hadn't been able to sell after a few months of submissions. Set in Jerusalem, it was the story of an unmarried woman and her struggle to find not only the right man but the right relationship with God. My lunch date was someone I'd known for years, and I knew she had four children and was raising them in an observant Jewish home. Yet I also knew her tastes were more commercial than this novel.

  At lunch, the editor handed me a copy of a book that was to be published that week and told me the story of how she'd bought it, and all the prepub-lication signs that seemed to be pointing to a big success. (It later became one of the year's biggest bestsellers.) I put the manuscript I'd brought off to the side of the table so she could see it, but I didn't mention it. Instead, we caught up with each other's lives until the coffee came. At that point, I told her that I'd brought a book that was probably not right for her list at all, but there was something about it that made me think of her. She agreed to take it with her and get back to me soon.

  When I called the editor early the next week to follow up, she told me she'd liked the novel, but she thought it needed work. We embarked upon a forty-five minute discussion of the novel, its strengths and weaknesses, its potential audience, what the author was like, and whether she would be willing to revise. At the end of the conversation, the editor said, "Wow, that was like a reading-group discussion! I'm going to get a few other people to read the book and get back to you next week." Naturally I told her of the handful of other editors who still had the manuscript under consideration, and she promised to be quick.

  Later that afternoon, the editor called again and got right down to business: "Listen, I don't want to wait. I want to buy the novel today. I talked to my boss about it and she said to go for it. Here's the offer. It's only good for today, so talk to the author and call me back." Even though the book needed editing, the editor was confident she'd be able to work with the author to get it into good shape. By the end of the day, my client, who had worked hard for several years and through many revisions on her first novel, had a publisher.

  CHAMPIONING YOUR WORK

  OVER THE LONG HAUL_

  As you can see, many factors went into that sale—the relationship between agent and editor, the editor's proven ability to publish well, her professionalism, her ability to move quickly when she found something she wanted to publish. But none of those factors would have meant anything if the book hadn't been wonderful. The fact that I believed it to be a good book committed me to selling it and made it easy for me to keep trying to sell it even in the face of several rejections. What you will want to find in an agent for your first novel is a person who believes in your book, believes in you, and isn't swayed by the opinions of others.

  Here's another example of combining commitment to a writer's work with knowledge of an editor's personal interests. I once invited an editor of children's and young adult books (neither of which I represented) to my house to watch a football game on television with me and my husband. Although this editor is one of publishing's true intellectuals, completely steeped in books and writing, literary criticism, and the history of publishing, he was also, I had discovered, a major Giants fan.

  When he arrived, he told me he had a new job: He was going to start up an imprint to publish multicultural literary fiction for young adults. As it happened, I had in my office a novel about a young woman in Japan whose mother had committed suicide. The prose was incredibly poetic and beautiful, yet thirty adult-book editors had already turned the collection down because it was "too quiet." In the meantime, several chapters had been published in literary magazines, so at halftime, the editor read the one that had just come out in the Kenyan Review. When he finished, he said, "This is exactly what I'm looking for. Send me the manuscript." He bought the book within a couple of weeks, and when the book was published a year later, the New York Times, in a long and glowing review, called it "the kind of novel that comes along once in a generation." Titled Shizuko's Daughter, the book won numerous awards for young adult fiction and is still in print fifteen years later. It's been published around the world, most recently in China, and the author has since published four other books.

  The author of that book, Kyoko Mori, had first approached me over the transom—meaning she hadn't been referred to me in any way but had simply sent a blind query letter to the agency where I worked at the time. Her letter was impressive, and I asked to see her manuscript. I read it right away and loved the book, but as a new agent I hadn't yet developed a long list of contacts or a full sense of a variety of editors' likes and dislikes. The book was beautiful, yes, but it was quiet, and for months I considered sending it back—but I simply couldn't get it out of my mind. The characters and their trials and tribulations, the vivid poetic images, and the exotic Japanese setting combined with the universal theme of a child grieving for her beloved parent came back to me again and again. Finally I decided that was the best test of whether I should choose to represent a book or not. I called the author and asked to represent her. Thankfully, she said yes.

  While it took me an inordinately long time to respond to Kyoko's manuscript, the lesson I learned—that if you can't forget a book, it's worth taking on—has stayed with me, and it's one of the indicators most agents and editors use when making a decision about whether or not to publish a work of fiction. It's only through such an intense connection with a book that an agent will be able to keep going through (in this case) thirty rejections and get you both to the lucky thirty-first submission. If a book holds such fascination for an agent, he can truly believe it will hold an equal fascination for some editor somewhere, and certainly for readers. And because not every one of those thirty editors turned the book down flat—several of them, younger editors largely, wrote and said they'd tried to buy it but their bosses hadn't allowed them to offer for it—my belief in Kyoko's work held firm until I found someone to publish the novel I couldn't forget.

  When you're looking for an agent, you'll want to find someone who believes in you and your work. For some, this will happen serendipitously. For others, many years, many revisions, many rejection letters, and many hours of despair will come along before they connect with an agent who can help them get published. Yet even getting an agent is no guarantee—I've heard too often of the agent who sends a manuscript out to six or seven editors, then drops it when there isn't a quick sale. On the other hand, you and an agent might agree at the start that that's what you want to do: If a small segment of the market speaks and says "no," you're both planning to move on. The important thing, after all the research you've done to confirm that the agent is credible—something we'll discuss in greater detail later in this book—is to listen to your instincts about whether the person is working well for you or not.

  BUILDING YOUR CAREER_

  There are writers who are convinced that only the biggest advances are meaningful, but most first novelists just want to get their book published. In the first flush of excitement over a book, an agent will dream, just the way you do, that every publisher in town will want to publish it, there will be a big auction, and you'll bec
ome a millionaire overnight. That does happen. But not usually. And even when it does, it might not be the best thing for your budding career as a published writer.

  While most agents are thrilled to make a big deal, most have also been burned by the big advance that overwhelmed the first book. Most agents I know are prouder to tell the story of the book that received many rejections before finding a publisher than they are to tell the story of the book that got the huge advance and disappeared without a trace. That's because we take on novelists in the hope and belief that we're going to work with them to build a writing career, and a huge advance for a first book can often create too much pressure on everyone, from the author to the bookseller, to find and grow the author's audience. For every big deal that results in a first novel hitting the best-seller list, there are at least ten such deals that don't have that happy result.

  MAKING THE MATCH

  In addition to trying to get a good advance for a first book, agents try to match the author up with an editor who is savvy enough to get in-house attention for her books. As noted, we get to know who those editors are by meeting them, but also by talking to other agents or tracking the editors' careers through trade publications and Web sites like Publishers Weekly (http://www.publishersweekly.com/) and Publishers Marketplace (http://www.publishers/ marketplace.com). Editors often send out letters outlining the kinds of books they're working on and proposing a meeting to discuss future projects. Many agents keep some kind of a database of editors and their areas of interest so they can quickly develop a submission list for each new project. Through being selective and only submitting a book to an editor who's fairly certain to be interested, an agent can ensure that his submissions will get immediate attention from busy editors. We know that a quick answer is better than no answer at all for any writer, and it's one of the ways we try to keep our clients in good spirits so they can go on doing what they do best: writing new and better books.

  TALKING YOU UP

  Another career-building move that agents make on your behalf is talking about your work to contacts other than editors. Movie producers come to New York to meet agents and talk about the kinds of books they've made into movies and the kind of material they're looking for. Foreign publishers come by when they're in town to talk about their lists and to hear about ours. We also see each other at conventions (like BookExpo America [BEA] and Bouchercon World Mystery Convention) and book fairs (like the Frankfurt Book Fair, the London International Book Fair, and the Bologna Children's Book Fair). At these fairs and conventions, we schedule meetings every half hour starting at breakfast and often going on beyond dinner. These meetings, conventions, fairs, and parties can lead to immediate results—an unplanned convention-hallway meeting with, say, a Russian editor can lead immediately to a deal—or they can serve to expand our list of contacts as well as our knowledge of the publishing business, both here and abroad.

  If you find an agent who constantly refreshes his pool of contacts and increases his knowledge of the industry in this way, you'll find someone who can:

  • come up with new ideas for how to sell your book even many months after it's been rejected by what seems like every publisher in town

  • get your name known by talking about you to as many industry and industry-related people as possible

  • develop further outlets for your work after it is published, like foreign translations and film options

  • help you build your career as a writer so that perhaps one day you can make a living

  IT'S LIKE A MARRIAGE ..._

  Although I prefer to regard it as a business partnership, the author-agent relationship has often been likened to a marriage—but so have business partnerships. There's the glowy honeymoon period where you both believe that only good things lie ahead. Then reality sets in, when you come to know the other person's strengths and weaknesses, the things he can be relied upon to do and the things you're going to have to get on his back about. As long as you both accept that you're each going to have to row to stay afloat and to get somewhere, you'll probably be okay.

  Communication is as key to this partnership as it is to any other. It's important to remember that while you have only this book, this contract, this editor, this publication, an agent has many of the same. I don't want to imply that your agent will or should be too busy to talk to you. But given the many demands on his attention, it's no good sitting around waiting to hear from him and hoping he'll read your mind. You've got to ask, and you've got to learn how to ask in a way that makes him, and eventually your editor and publicist, want to return your calls.

  Unlike a marriage, where the roles of the two partners grow and change, merge, and divide over time, the agent in this partnership has a certain number of clear-cut duties. Yet there are also things you shouldn't expect. Here are some things a literary agent does and doesn't do:

  WHAT AN AGENT DOES

  • attempts to sell your book to a reputable publishing house

  • keeps up-to-date with editors' interests as well as their contact information

  • negotiates the terms of your contracts with publishers

  • works on commission

  WHAT AN AGENT DOES NOT DO

  • guarantee fame and riches

  • sell every manuscript he agrees to represent

  • write the publishers' contracts for them

  WHAT AN AGENT CAN DO

  • offer editorial guidance or suggestions for improving your book

  • get it into the hands of editors

  • secure an advance or sell your book at an auction

  WHAT AN AGENT CANNOT DO

  • rewrite it or make it perfect for you

  • guarantee those editors will read every word

  • guarantee anyone will come to an auction even when they've told the interested editors they're holding one

  WHAT AN AGENT SHOULD DO

  • return your calls and e-mails within a reasonable period of time once you've signed on together

  • give you realistic expectations

  • be as interested as you are in getting a good advance—the better you do, the better he'll do

  WHAT AN AGENT SHOULD NOT DO

  • refuse to tell you anything he's done (Even if he has taken no actions at all, he should tell you that.)

  • promise you a fortune

  • accept or turn down advances without consulting with you

  KNOWING WHICH QUESTIONS TO ASK WHEN_

  An important aspect of an agent's job is to manage the relationship between his client and the publisher. After selling a client's book to a publishing house, especially the book of a first-time author, an agent will try to make the process go as smoothly as possible by guiding the author on how best to communicate with his publisher. When clients ask about publicity, I tell them, "I don't handle the publicity for your book, but I can tell you which questions to ask when." The author and I put our heads together over all sorts of details: Should he rewrite the jacket copy the editor sent for his approval? (Sometimes.) Does he have to accept every editorial change? (No.) Should he come to town to meet people from the publicity and marketing

  departments? (It's usually a good idea.) Should he ask whether or not the publisher will advertise the book? (Yes.) How much time should he spend on the author's questionnaire? (A lot.) Can he ask to see the press release before it's sent out? (Definitely.)

  While an agent can and does ask many of these questions on the author's behalf, he also encourages the author to communicate directly with the editor as much as possible in the interest of relationship- and career-building. If the communications go well and continue to improve, the editor will be a better in-house champion of the author's book, which in turn will result in a better publication, which will lead to the publishing house wishing to buy the author's next book. And isn't that the whole point? If it isn't, it should be: If you're not eager to make a career of your writing, a publisher won't be eager to publish you. There's an enorm
ous investment of time and money that goes into publishing one novel, and the only way to hope to recoup that investment is to build on the initial investment with the publication of more and, it is to be hoped, increasingly successful books.

  FINALLY ... WHY?_

  Why do agents do what they do? Why aren't they editors or writers? Why not sell real estate or wine or cars instead of books?

  I guess we all have our different reasons for being literary agents. But the really good agents I know love books, they love to discover new writers, they love to exercise their powers of persuasion, and they love the thrill that comes from landing a publisher for a client. They have something of an entrepreneurial spirit, disliking corporate life and enjoying the competitive marketplace with all its ups and downs. (No one really likes the downs, but experience tells you they're followed by ups.) They like the satisfaction that any successful working person has of getting better at what he does year after year. And they like the financial upside: that once they've worked with a writer to build his career, they continue to share in his success by receiving a commission on all the book sales, even on contracts they nego-tiated years before. Writers have given the world so much. Advocating on their behalf is not only the least we can do in return—it's the heart of an enormously satisfying career.

  RECOMMENDED READING

  Author and Agent: Eudora Welty and Diarmuid Russell, by Michael Kreyling. Eudora Welty's agent, the founder of Russell & Volkening, was a young man when he first wrote to a young Welty after he'd read her stories in magazines. Their career-long partnership—which, thankfully, was played out in their voluminous correspondence—is delineated in this illuminating book.

  Shizuko's Daughter, by Kyoko Mori. This first novel was rejected by thirty publishing houses, yet it went on to win awards, find publishers around the world, remain in print in its paperback edition, and launch the author's career.