I'm in Sugar Land Texas to torment a lovely group of writers today and tomorrow. The Ever Fabulous Stephanie Evans picked me up at the Houston airport yesterday and whisked me off in her very spiffy Mini Cooper!
This is across the street from where we stopped for lunch at Good Company BBQ
If you'd told me I'd love a place where the seating is picnic tables off the parking lot, two days ago I would have laughed! Today, I'm a devout believer. This place is GREAT!
And then we drove by Stephanie's sister's house.
I guess they knew I was coming!
Friday, October 12, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
holy zamboni!
It’s a rare year in which a superabundance of fine horror novels — novels that reward rereading — appears. That said, most years bring at least a handful of novels whose titles can stand to be mentioned alongside Matheson’s I Am Legend, Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House, and King’s The Shining. To this year’s list, add Laird Barron’s The Croning.
--LA Times
Monday, October 08, 2012
An interesting brush with corporate "customer service"
I flew back from Cleveland today on American Airlines. The flight was on time, the plane was clean, the staff was lovely.
I landed at JFK around 2. I then hiked about a mile to baggage claim. No problem, JFK is a big airport, not all gates can be right near baggage.
Then I waited. And waited. The baggage carousels didn't show my flight from Cleveland on their reader boards of which planes' luggage would be arriving. The arrival list didn't show it either.
I waited 45 minutes, then happened to see my bag swirling forlornly on carousel #9. The one that said Austin and Washington and didn't say Cleveland.
No problem though. I grabbed the bag, and pulled the handle. Nothing.
Pulled. Nothing.
Repeat...and failure.
Crap. The rolly bag now rolls but you can only pull it if your arm extends to the height of the bag.
I looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame pulling this thing to Baggage Services.
Where I met a very nice young man who promptly told me American Airlines really doesn't give a hoot if I fly with them again.
No they won't replace my damaged bag.
No they won't refund the $25 I paid to have it checked.
No, they won't do anything.
Ok. No problem.
I can see where I'm not wanted. And truthfully, my never flying American Airlines again won't affect them in the slightest. I'm one person of thousands, or tens of thousands who flew American Airlines in 2012.
Except, I have almost total control over where I fly and which airline I use. I can decline to fly to places that are only served by American. I can pay more if paying more puts me on a different carrier.
I never have to fly American again. And I won't.
It's not the delay.
Or the broken bag.
Or the fact that the delay and the broken bag meant I waited in a long line for a cab ($48.50 with tip) instead of taking the Airtrain and the subway ($7.00 no tip needed)
It's that they just didn't care. Their front line customer service people are taught to say no no no. No we won't help you. No we won't do this. No.
Even the hot mess that is Amtrak has better customer service. When they mess up, they give you a travel voucher. And their customer service people actually say "I'm sorry you were inconvenienced. How can I help you?"
The man I interacted with wasn't rude. He wasn't even out of line. He was doing his job. The problem is the company taught him his job was to say no.
Ok, I'm saying no too. No more American Airlines.
As it turns out, I was lucky I wasn't sitting in the pilot's lap, or still in Cleveland!
I landed at JFK around 2. I then hiked about a mile to baggage claim. No problem, JFK is a big airport, not all gates can be right near baggage.
Then I waited. And waited. The baggage carousels didn't show my flight from Cleveland on their reader boards of which planes' luggage would be arriving. The arrival list didn't show it either.
I waited 45 minutes, then happened to see my bag swirling forlornly on carousel #9. The one that said Austin and Washington and didn't say Cleveland.
No problem though. I grabbed the bag, and pulled the handle. Nothing.
Pulled. Nothing.
Repeat...and failure.
Crap. The rolly bag now rolls but you can only pull it if your arm extends to the height of the bag.
I looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame pulling this thing to Baggage Services.
Where I met a very nice young man who promptly told me American Airlines really doesn't give a hoot if I fly with them again.
No they won't replace my damaged bag.
No they won't refund the $25 I paid to have it checked.
No, they won't do anything.
Ok. No problem.
I can see where I'm not wanted. And truthfully, my never flying American Airlines again won't affect them in the slightest. I'm one person of thousands, or tens of thousands who flew American Airlines in 2012.
Except, I have almost total control over where I fly and which airline I use. I can decline to fly to places that are only served by American. I can pay more if paying more puts me on a different carrier.
I never have to fly American again. And I won't.
It's not the delay.
Or the broken bag.
Or the fact that the delay and the broken bag meant I waited in a long line for a cab ($48.50 with tip) instead of taking the Airtrain and the subway ($7.00 no tip needed)
It's that they just didn't care. Their front line customer service people are taught to say no no no. No we won't help you. No we won't do this. No.
Even the hot mess that is Amtrak has better customer service. When they mess up, they give you a travel voucher. And their customer service people actually say "I'm sorry you were inconvenienced. How can I help you?"
The man I interacted with wasn't rude. He wasn't even out of line. He was doing his job. The problem is the company taught him his job was to say no.
Ok, I'm saying no too. No more American Airlines.
As it turns out, I was lucky I wasn't sitting in the pilot's lap, or still in Cleveland!
Sunday, October 07, 2012
What to do when your agent quits
I get query letters from formerly-represented authors enough so that it's not rare. Not common but not rare. Up until ten years ago, the main reason the authors were agentless was either death, retirement or illness of their former agent.
Now I'm seeing a whole new, very disturbing, category: my agent quit.
So the first thing to remind everyone is that when you receive an offer of representation, you'll want to make sure your agent is in it for the long haul. How to do that? My experience tells me that all these agents who are quitting have been in the business for five years or fewer, and their sales are not very high. In other words, people who found out being an agent was a whole lot harder than it looked on Twitter.
But, if you find yourself without an agent here's what to do:
1. Get out your author/agency agreement. Are you represented by the company, or the specific agent?
If you are represented by the company, get in touch. Email first, then phone. A very short email like this:
Hello, I was represented by Agent Houdini. My project SHARK TANK NOIR is on submission. Can you tell me which agent will be handling my work now? Thanks for your time and consideration.
Even though this feels like a total disaster to you, try to keep the screeching and moaning to a minimum. Trust me, it's pretty hard on this side of the aisle too.
If you don't hear back in five days, you phone. Politely.
If you don't get a reply in five days, you terminate your representation.
Certified mail.
Just an aside: this is why it's CRUCIAL that you keep the submission list of where your work is. It's absolutely ok to ask for the list of where your work is when the submission process starts, and to ask for updates on a regular, scheduled basis. (Once a month, once every two weeks; NOT daily; NOT hourly!)
2. If you're represented by the agent, not the agency, get in touch with the head of the agency. Short email:
Hello, I was represented by Agent Houdini. My project SHARK TANK NOIR is on submission. Is another agent there interested in representing me? Thanks for your time and consideration.
Again, you give them five days.
If no reply, telephone.
If no reply, terminate.
3. If the agency does not continue to represent you, you'll need a new agent.
1. Check the author/agency agreement for the clause that covers how long after you've terminated representation you have to pay a commission. In our agreement it's six months. That means if you fire me, and I've sent your work out, you can't sell it to a publisher I've sent it to without paying me a commission unless six months have elapsed between the termination and the sale.
If this isn't spelled out in your author/agency contract, you spell it out in the termination letter you send via certified mail. Of course, you'll insert language that says you can sell your project tomorrow and not owe a commission, not six months.
2. Draft an email query about your project, not about your situation. You need an agent for your work, not your woes.
DO include a paragraph about your situation though. Be brief. Be clear. Try not to wring your hands.
My agent, Henry Houdini, is no longer agenting. My project was on submission with 12,204 editors as of 1/1/11. In my termination letter to Houdini, Hoffa, and Crater, I included a paragraph that says they are not entitled to commission as of 2/1/11. The author/agency agreement does not have a clause covering this situation.
And then you interview agents. And you look for the ones who are in it for the long haul. Here's what you ask:
1. WHAT HAVE YOU SOLD? An agent who hasn't sold a lot is more likely to hang up her spurs than one who is doing ok. Don't rely on Publishers' Marketplace for this data. ASK the agent.
2. Do you love your job? An agent who is looking to switch careers is an unhappy agent. Trust your senses on this one.
3. What happens if you do decide to leave agenting? Most of us have given careful thought to what I call the "crosstown bus" scenario. Not all leaving is voluntary. If I get hit by a bus, my clients are covered. I wouldn't sign with an agent or agency who hadn't made the same provisions.
And remember, this is not the end of the world. It feels like epic disaster right now, but you'll recover. And bounce back. AND have a great story: "Remember when I found out my agent left the biz cause she changed her Facebook status?" You need good stories for your book tour. Think of this one as the first.
Now I'm seeing a whole new, very disturbing, category: my agent quit.
So the first thing to remind everyone is that when you receive an offer of representation, you'll want to make sure your agent is in it for the long haul. How to do that? My experience tells me that all these agents who are quitting have been in the business for five years or fewer, and their sales are not very high. In other words, people who found out being an agent was a whole lot harder than it looked on Twitter.
But, if you find yourself without an agent here's what to do:
1. Get out your author/agency agreement. Are you represented by the company, or the specific agent?
If you are represented by the company, get in touch. Email first, then phone. A very short email like this:
Hello, I was represented by Agent Houdini. My project SHARK TANK NOIR is on submission. Can you tell me which agent will be handling my work now? Thanks for your time and consideration.
Even though this feels like a total disaster to you, try to keep the screeching and moaning to a minimum. Trust me, it's pretty hard on this side of the aisle too.
If you don't hear back in five days, you phone. Politely.
If you don't get a reply in five days, you terminate your representation.
Certified mail.
Just an aside: this is why it's CRUCIAL that you keep the submission list of where your work is. It's absolutely ok to ask for the list of where your work is when the submission process starts, and to ask for updates on a regular, scheduled basis. (Once a month, once every two weeks; NOT daily; NOT hourly!)
2. If you're represented by the agent, not the agency, get in touch with the head of the agency. Short email:
Hello, I was represented by Agent Houdini. My project SHARK TANK NOIR is on submission. Is another agent there interested in representing me? Thanks for your time and consideration.
Again, you give them five days.
If no reply, telephone.
If no reply, terminate.
3. If the agency does not continue to represent you, you'll need a new agent.
1. Check the author/agency agreement for the clause that covers how long after you've terminated representation you have to pay a commission. In our agreement it's six months. That means if you fire me, and I've sent your work out, you can't sell it to a publisher I've sent it to without paying me a commission unless six months have elapsed between the termination and the sale.
If this isn't spelled out in your author/agency contract, you spell it out in the termination letter you send via certified mail. Of course, you'll insert language that says you can sell your project tomorrow and not owe a commission, not six months.
2. Draft an email query about your project, not about your situation. You need an agent for your work, not your woes.
DO include a paragraph about your situation though. Be brief. Be clear. Try not to wring your hands.
My agent, Henry Houdini, is no longer agenting. My project was on submission with 12,204 editors as of 1/1/11. In my termination letter to Houdini, Hoffa, and Crater, I included a paragraph that says they are not entitled to commission as of 2/1/11. The author/agency agreement does not have a clause covering this situation.
And then you interview agents. And you look for the ones who are in it for the long haul. Here's what you ask:
1. WHAT HAVE YOU SOLD? An agent who hasn't sold a lot is more likely to hang up her spurs than one who is doing ok. Don't rely on Publishers' Marketplace for this data. ASK the agent.
2. Do you love your job? An agent who is looking to switch careers is an unhappy agent. Trust your senses on this one.
3. What happens if you do decide to leave agenting? Most of us have given careful thought to what I call the "crosstown bus" scenario. Not all leaving is voluntary. If I get hit by a bus, my clients are covered. I wouldn't sign with an agent or agency who hadn't made the same provisions.
And remember, this is not the end of the world. It feels like epic disaster right now, but you'll recover. And bounce back. AND have a great story: "Remember when I found out my agent left the biz cause she changed her Facebook status?" You need good stories for your book tour. Think of this one as the first.
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