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What are literary agents? What do
they do all day? Why do I need an agent? Will an agent make
a difference in my writing career? And . . . what difference
will it make?
Well, it will come as no surprise to
you that literary agents are . . . yes . . . people. They
often have families, cars, phones, televisions, and mortgages
-- just like other American families. They want to earn an
income to support those necessities of life, and a few luxuries,
too.
That important fact out of the way,
we can now begin to answer some of the questions writers have
about the people -- literary agents -- who can play an important
role in your life concerning the business side of writing.
I would imagine that many aspiring
writers envision an agent working in a plush Manhattan office,
with wall to ceiling shelves filled with manuscripts and proposals
-- an army of people busying about reading, editing, and commenting
on the wonderful work they have received.
Perhaps a few agents have this working
environment, but I can only speak from my office where my
day starts around five in the morning.
Soon after stumbling out of bed (around
five in the morning), and starting the coffee machine, I head
to my desk. A desk equipped with a high tech IBM computer,
fax, modem, phone, scanner and printer. While Socrates (the
name I gave my computer) warms up, I shower and dress for
the day.
Then, with coffee in hand, I settle
in front of Socrates and read and answer E-mail. Often distracted
by some of the clutter on the desk, I then begin sorting through
cover, fax, and rejection letters and filing them away in
a closet nearby that is equipped with shelves, drawers and
files -- and stacks of manuscripts.
Around nine o'clock, after doing a
little exercise, usually outside, I retire to the leather
recliner (my favorite reading chair), where on a table next
to it, a lamp, and more stacks of manuscripts wait. Under
the table, two more stacks of manuscripts are begging to be
read.
The phone rings.
Can't read right now.
An emergency has come up.
One of my authors needs to share a
plot idea. While I listen, I notice two more stacks of manuscripts
on the edge of the desk. Jeez, those have to be read soon
( I make a mental note and glance at the recliner). These
are completed and sold manuscripts that are due to be delivered
for publication from our already published authors.
When the call ends, I lift my coffee
cup.
Empty.
Need a refill.
Okay . . . once more with coffee in
hand, and one of the sold manuscripts I settle down to read.
Twenty pages later the phone rings.
An offer has just come in for one of
my clients' projects. So I set the manuscript aside. It's
time to get down to business. Two other houses have the same
proposal. I tell the editor with the offer, that I'll have
to get back to her later.
I wake Socrates out of his rest mode,
call up the log, and begin to make calls to the other editors.
The second editor passes, but the third
is interested. She'll have to get back to me after talking
to her senior editor.
I call the author, and we share the
excitement of the moment. We then discuss all the possibilities
of the houses involved. Which house would be the best for
her career? Advantages, disadvantages . . .
Now it's past ten o'clock, I'm back
to refill my coffee mug. A few more minutes to read. Five
pages in, and I'm thinking about sub rights . . . not Romeo
who is avidly pursuing Juliet in the romance I am reading.
I set the pages aside, and think.
No, I need to make notes!
I return to my desk, and jot down the
acceptable terms. New author . . . but lots of potential.
Yes, we want to keep dramatic rights, audio, and electronic
if possible. Hum, let's see . . . hold dramatic and audio,
80/20, 75,25 . . . jot, jot, jot.
Okay -- I'm ready for that call.
I glance at the phone.
Why isn't she calling back?
My eyes glimpse the clock, and I suddenly
realize the post office will be closing for their hour and
a half lunch break in five minutes. If I hurry . . . I might
get there before they lock the doors. I dash for the keys,
grab the three proposals I put together last night to send
out, and head for the post office. I arrive just in time.
Two people are in line. I pick up my mail, and take the yellow
slip into the office, where -- yes -- more manuscripts are
waiting. At least the three proposals are on their way to
Manhattan. I pause in the parking lot and peruse the mail
quickly. Alas, one of several royalty checks have arrived.
So I head for the bank, before returning my desk.
Back at the office I find waiting a
fax with a generous offer for another author, and three phone
messages -- one is URGENT.
One of my authors is upset because
her dog died and she can't deliver her book on time -- in
fact she's asking -- pleading -- begging for a third extension!
After a lengthy and sympathetic phone conversation, I call
the editor involved and explain the situation. The editor
is now upset -- annoyed -- but sympathetic, because the book
is due into production YESTERDAY!
Nevertheless, we reach a workable conclusion,
and I call my author, she is relieved. (Do I hear a dog barking
in the background?)
Back to the phone again, to call my
happy author (the one whose manuscript is claiming attention
from a second editor). After we decide together which path
to take, I call the first bidding editor, to tell her that
another house has made a higher bid. The editor is a little
disappointed, but not surprised. She is so excited about this
author, she says she will go back to her publisher and see
what they can do. She ends by saying she'll get back to me.
I call the author again -- to keep her apprised. Once again
we discuss the pros and cons, usually coming to a mutual conclusion.
But things could change -- what if this or that happens? Well,
we will stay open-minded. Yes, that's the best thing to do
at this stage of the game.
It's past lunch time already. Where
did the morning go? And what is there to eat in this place?
I haven't been grocery shopping in over a week. Can't run
to the store this afternoon. Not with a sale pending! Ah-ha,
a banana. A little over ripe, but what the heck. Hum . . .
crackers, peanut butter? Nab . . . I've got to start eating
better than this.
Okay . . . back to reading. The editors
are probably at lunch, or in meetings. Maybe I won't hear
back until tomorrow or the next day about the counter offer.
So, I settle into the leather recliner. Mm, feels good to
sit down. Maybe too good. No, stay focused. Sure you'd like
a siesta right about now -- but just look at those piles.
Plus the new ones that just came in!
Looks like a marathon weekend coming
up . . . soon. A weekend where I will go through about twenty
proposals, make notes, and write letters. Yeah . . . rejection
letters. Just so you know, they aren't fun for me, either.
Wow, this is a good story. I've whipped
through a hundred pages, and everything is holding together.
Keep reading . . .
Phone rings again. This time it's UPS.
What's your street address?
Why? (More manuscripts?)
Back to the reading chair, and the
sold manuscript. Page two hundred . . . my eyes are beginning
to burn a little. Tea would be a nice pick me up. I need to
stretch anyway. Getting old here.
"Hi little kitties -- you need food?"
The mention of food calls them straight into the kitchen.
With a cup of tea in hand, I return
to the manuscript. I will finish reading this one today! Only
three more stacks to go!
Page three hundred forty four. Close
to five o'clock. The phone rings. My associate has received
an offer for one of her clients! She wants to know how to
handle the subsidiary rights.
After a detailed conversation, I congratulate
her and we end the call.
Another call comes in before I turn
around. The editor has spoken with her publisher and they
can and will top the deal. Great, I tell her I will call the
author and get back to her. She says she'll be in the office
for another hour . . . which means she'd like to hear back
today, not in the morning.
I slide into my desk chair and grab
the notes I'd made earlier. I call the author, go over the
details. Call the second house -- just in case they want to
top the bid, even though they'd made it quite clear their
fist offer was as high as they could go. Yes, I was right
-- they could not best it.
On the phone with the first editor,
I reveal the bidding house and editor's name, then we begin
negotiating the terms of the contract, including payouts,
royalties, then sub rights, which include book club, foreign
sales, translations, dramatic and audio rights, etc. Lastly,
we discuss the numbers of author copies the author will receive.
Six o'clock -- deal is done. Nice feeling.
I call the author one last time, assuring her that YES --
she really did sell a book -- and that we should see the contracts
in about six to eight weeks.
Well, what is there around here to
eat for dinner? Bananas are gone, but there is something in
a container in the freezer. Hum . . . wonder what it is? I'll
warm it up in the microwave and see if I can get the top off.
A minute later . . . oh, yeah, the chili I made several weeks
ago. Wonder if it's still good. Better take my vitamins.
After dinner and checking E-mail again,
and watching a few minutes of evening news, I pick up where
I left off, reading the sold manuscript. Around nine o'clock,
I finish the book. Great job! The author has managed to pull
everything together and end with a satisfying resolution.
She lives in California. It's not too late to give her a call.
Yes, that's what I'll do. Then to bed!
Well, maybe a little play time on the
Internet first . . .
Will an agent make a difference in
your writing career?
Only you can answer that question.
If you need current market information to know if a plot idea
is working, or two editors make offers for your work, or you
don't fully understand subsidiary rights -- or your dog encounters
an untimely death, then . . . maybe, yes.
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