Just cause she's an agent doesn't mean she's right (said the agent who is ALWAYS right)

Yesterday I received the most heartbreaking rejection, and find myself again questioning how to know when to take an agent's feedback to heart.

This MS has been through webinars, bootcamps, workshops, multiple face-to-face agent critique appointments (where they've received 50 pages in advance), multiple charity-auction-won critiques from published authors I adore, and countless extensive revisions with 4 critique partners. I feel it's in the best shape of any  of my manuscripts, and I'm genuinely pleased with where it's at -- which is something for a Type-A perfectionist to be able to say. I'm at the tweaking-words stage, seeing no major changes required. It feels polished. I still laugh, I still cry. It feels very much like the book I set out to write.

I've queried in batches, and have had 10 full requests and many partials. Recently, I had a full request within 2 days from a rock-star agent at the top of my list. I felt a bit awkward that she skewered my book title in her request email -- but I certainly didn't point this out. Just replied, "Attached is TITLE OF MY BOOK, per your request," kind of thing.

In the rejection, she said my book was too like two of her other series, which I thought odd because I actually used one of those as a comp title -- her series is in a different age category and I feel very different in nature, but with one shared element that I thought might grab her (it seemed to, since she requested the full based on my query and opening chapters). The other series is absolutely nothing in tone like mine, and I feel, if she'd really read mine, she'd have known that by about chapter 4 at the least, if she couldn't tell it from the opening chapter. But... okay. That's fair enough -- maybe she hated it and didn't read past chapter 3!

The most difficult part was when she said that regardless of that, it needs "a lot of development work," including "worldbuilding, plot, and pacing."

Whoa. So, that's basically the entire manuscript.

This makes me feel as though I'm being told you don't know what you're doing. Although she said, "This is very much the kind of story I enjoy," I feel like I've just been informed that 10 years of writing, and 3 years on this manuscript, and countless conferences, studying and analyzing successful books I love, agent one-on-ones, etc. have all barely pushed me from square one to two. I know we as authors get wobbly and take things personally (and blown out of proportion) in the face of rejection -- and I'm the worst -- but I had a bit of a breakdown.

I don't know what this means, or where to go next. I consulted my CPs, and they are honest, non-smoke-blowing folk, I believe. They said they would've certainly flagged up these rather major issues if they'd seen them in any of the drafts they read. None of the authors/editors/professionals who've laid eyes on the MS or synopsis suggested any major issues like these. I don't know whether to shell out for a developmental edit (seriously considering it), or sit down with My First Craft Book 101 and go through the whole arc and structure with a seam ripper.

On top of all this is the wonder whether the agent actually read any of it. She clearly was excited about the premise and opening. But in all her emails to me, she CCed an assistant. I know it doesn't matter because no is no. But it makes me wonder if I was rejected by the assistant or the agent herself... especially since the title was skewered again in the body of her rejection email. I know agents are human, but I guess I'm surprised by the error, twice.

My question is, when you've worked with this level of workshopping and critiques and feedback that makes you feel overall pleased with the pillars of a manuscript, do you take a rejection like this to heart or not -- if no one else has ever said similar? My heart says no, but my brain whispers, "What if this is the reason you haven't been offered rep yet, and she's the only one who's shared the secret with you?"

I just wish she (or her assistant) had offered even one concrete example from my story to link to these problems.

You're giving too much power to this agent. You don't know if she read it. If she did, you don't know how much.

You need more Shark Salt on your popcorn. My first response would have been"Yer maternal unit, which is clearly not human, wears Army boots!"

You are not stupid. You are not slap dash. You worked hard on this novel. It may not be what Agent Shinola thinks she can sell but that's not the same thing as a novel that needs work.

Frankly this kind of criticism shows the agent doesn't know how to talk about writing very well.  If a manuscript needs world building, it's much more helpful to say "I need to smell the horse manure  on the streets in Helena Montana in 1878."  (Say what you will about Helena Montana, back when gunslingers lit agents rode horses to the negotiating table there was a certain olfactory signature to most towns.)

If someone tells you the plot doesn't work, it damn well better be accompanied by an example of a plot hole or two.

If the pacing is off, you say why: nothing is at stake by page 50; or, the ending of this short story happens too quickly.  Absent that kind of concrete suggestion or example, it's just yammer.

In other words, I can't just say "your plot sucketh the big one" without examples, and expect you to take me seriously.

Agent Shinola didn't offer any examples to bolster HER OPINION.  Why would you invest any kind of confidence in what she says?

If an agent can't tell you what's wrong with your novel, I'm hard pressed to think she's going to be able to talk about what's RIGHT with it if she takes it on and goes out on submission. "Read this, it's really good" is not a good pitch most of the time.

Your takeaway here: If I tell you the moon is made of green cheese,  I better serve you up a slice of Neil Armstrong pizza.

Penultimate bottom line: quit making lists of rock star agents; pay attention to critiques with specifics.

Bottom line: you dodged a real bullet here. Think about if Shinola was your agent and you turned in this ms.  If this was the kind of "edit note" you got, you'd be holding up the bar five days a week at the Writers Regrets Saloon and Synopsis Store. Count yourself lucky and get back to querying.

Well, that was quick

This fall I signed with a literary agent for a YA novel. When we discussed plans for submission, she said she would contact approximately 10 editors, we would examine the responses, and (if no offer was made) decide if any revisions were necessary before expanding the submission. Well, we did not receive any offers in response to the first 10 submissions and the agent has decided to step aside. She felt there might be issues with marketability (it's a historical novel, set in a somewhat unusual time period), but only one editor actually mentioned that as a reason for passing. To my eye, there wasn't a clear pattern in the editors' responses (they all liked different things and disliked different things). She has said I am free to seek other representation. So I am wondering:

1. How common or uncommon is this scenario?

2. As an agent, how many submissions would you expect to send out before getting an offer?

3. Is it worth seeking another agent or will these 10 submissions effectively kill my chances?

4. How much of this should be mentioned in the query?

While I'm reluctant to stick my long pointy nose into another agent's business practices, A couple things perplex me here.

1. The initial statement that she's only sending to ten editors. While I do not work in YA, I know some pretty successful agents who do. Their war stories often have ten editors coming to an auction. That means there are LOTS more than ten places to submit YA projects. Hell, I can think of more than ten myself.

This seems like an early warning sign that the editor isn't in this with you for the long haul. That's certainly one way to agent, but it sure leaves authors in a pickle more times than not.


2. She's ditching you rather than asking you to write something else.

3. If you signed with her in the fall, and it's now the last week of January, that's barely four months, and one of those months had a lot of "out of office" email replies cause we were all snogging Santa or his reindeer or both (Fifty Shades of Doe, Ray and Me)


Now for your questions:

1. I've seen this kind of thing before. I've blogged about it too.

I think it's becoming more common as agents need to sell big books and decide not to spend time on books that aren't going to go big.

2. My practice is to send out rounds of submissions. If you have ten first choice editors, and they say no, I send to ten second-choice. I've sold books to publishers who weren't my first or second choice, but the author and I discussed the submission and agreed on it. If I run out of places to submit, I generally have already asked the author to start on something new.

3. This book is dead. You need to write something new. I never take on "lightly shopped" let alone seriously shopped books.

4. None. You'll write a new book, and when your next agent calls to chat, you'll mention this and I hope it will become a hilarious story.


The lesson to be learned from this is: ASK what strategy an agent employs for a book they can't sell. If it's the WhamBamPartingGiftsPlan, you'll want to think long and hard about signing with that agent.

Almost without exception each client I've signed wrote a book I loved. If editors turned it down, I thought they were short-sighted and I wanted to make sure they'd live to rue that rejection.


When the client and I have parted ways over my inability to sell their work, it's absolutely not for lack of effort on my part. Yes, sometimes a fresh perspective is needed. Sometimes a new agent will know a category better than I do. When that happens, I am sorry to see the client leave, but I understand their thinking. I have some very successful former clients and I'm pleased as punch for them.

I can't think of a single instance where I sent a book to ten editors and four months later fired the client (even passively) unless there was something else going on. You've mentioned nothing that leads me to think that might be the case here and I hope it isn't.

Some of the things that can lead an agent to lose enthusiasm quickly:

1. Nagging. I don't mean follow up emails once a week, I mean "what are you doing" emails once a day.

2. Micro-managing: "I saw this editor bought Book X on Pub Lunch. Are you sending to them?"

3. Incessant over-analyzing "what does she mean "the book isn't big enough.""

4. Eeyore emails "oh, I'm so discouraged, woe is me, maybe I'll just self-publish" after each rejection.

If by some dreadful coincidence, you see yourself in this list, it's not the book and it's not the agent, it's you. (I hope it's not.)

In any case you now know three things:

1. Your agent has fired you.
2. You need to write a new book
3. You're never going to sign with someone who practices the WhamBamPartingGifts Submission plan again.

"Yea, so we're done now that I haven't sold your book"

 Although I’ve got one novel (with Publisher Good) and two non-fiction books (with Publisher More Good) to my credit, I lost my previous agent when she went into another line of work. So last January I jumped into the pool of unsoliciteds and started querying agents for my new novel.

When I query agents, I like to start at the top and work my way down. So imagine my delight when my very first letter hit home with one of New York’s most famous Superagents at one of the biggest agencies in the business. Woo-hoo! Time to start casting the movie and shopping for yachts.

Not so fast, Richard. Superagent warned me that he could only think of nine editors who would be interested in my somewhat offbeat manuscript. He also told me that he would be “co-agenting” it with his assistant, whom I shall call Assistant-to-Superagent. Given those two caveats, he gave me the opportunity to decline his offer. But I was so thrilled at the time I pooh-poohed his warnings and signed up.

Nine submissions and nine rejections later, my yacht is up the creek without a paddle. Assistant-to-Superagent has informed me that there will be no more submissions and we are officially kaputski. Goodbye and good luck.

Don’t get me wrong, I bear them no ill will. They warned me fair and square. Their only mistake, in my view, was sending it to the wrong nine editors. (By the way, the editors didn’t offer much advice—just the usual “we liked it but not quite right for us” rejection notes.)

My question for you, Ms. Reid, is what do you think I should do next? I know that finding another agent after the first one has shopped it around town is rather like trying to sell a used mattress with suspicious stains on it at a flea market.

Should I try anyway? (1)  Should I chalk it up to experience and write a better novel next time? (2) Should I drop down in class a bit and send it to one of these new indie publishers who accept un-agented manuscripts but seem to do a decent job of producing and distributing them? (3) Any other advice?(4)  Like where to unload a lightly-used yacht, for example? (5)

(1) No
(2) Sort of
(3) maybe
(4) lots
(5) I heard this guy is in the market:

But enough jocularity, back to your questions.

The first thing is next time you venture in to the shark pool you should remember to ask the question you didn't ask this time: what happens if you (the agent) can't sell the book?

I've seen very talented writers get hung out to dry, just like you did, by agents who practice the WhamBamThankYouPlan of submissions: send to a select few editors. If one of them coughs up big cash, yay. If not, kick the writer to the curb.

I understand this from a business perspective. I abhor it as a business practice. I can name probably ten writers on my list who are NOW PUBLISHED who did not get an offer on the book I signed them for.

That kind of hindsight doesn't do you much good though now.

Now you've got a lightly shopped novel and not much else. Sadly, you're probably done as far as agents are concerned for this particular novel. No matter how much I liked you or your writing, I would not sign you for a book that's already made the rounds.

And by the way: you don't know if this agent sent to the "wrong editors." You know s/he sent it to the editors s/he thought would buy it. That they did not does NOT mean they were wrong. Let go of that kind of thinking or you're going to be second guessing everything and you'll go nuts.

When you say try an indie publisher, I'm not sure what you mean. The term "indie" is used so fast and loose these days I think it's lost any kind of specific meaning. If by indie you mean small publishers that accept submissions from authors without agents, sure, go ahead. If you mean digital only, sure, why not.

However, if you sell this book to a small publisher, or a digital only publisher, you're going to end up with sales figures that are going to be VERY hard to overcome if you want to try for another agent on the next book.

An author with four books, the last of which sold only 3000 copies (because that's all the publisher would print) isn't as appetizing to sharks as writers without that disadvantage.

I can't tell you what to do here. I can only tell you there are risks and rewards for every choice. You have to decide what's most important: being published any way you can, or writing another book, applying what you learned here, and trying again.

Clearly you've got writing chops: you're published well with earlier books, and two agents liked your work.

Take some time and really think about what you want, cause you've got one more time at bat most likely.

Query question: no website, no read

I recently read a blog post by a writer who has received a request for a full ms. Was left rather stunned by the following paragraph:

This agent informed me that when she receives a query, pitch, or manuscript, the first thing she does is look to see if they have a website. “No matter what else they have to their credit, if I can’t find a website with their name in the address, I push their work to the junk pile.”

To be honest, if I was in that writer's position I'd question if that agent was for me, because it should be my writing that's important.

I understand an agent wanting to see a writer can navigate social media to some degree (a blog, twitter, facebook for example), but surely the above is something that can follow a contract? Or have I got it wrong?

Wow. That's one fast way to make sure you throw the baby out with the bathwater!

I've signed clients who had no idea what a website was, let alone that they needed one. I've signed clients who had to be tracked down by my blog readers because their email bounced and their webpage wasn't there any more.

I have a MySpace account solely because it was the only contact point for a writer who sent me a darn good query but no pages.

In other words, you'd have to hide on the moon to avoid me if you've queried me for something I want to read.

And the idea website/no website is even a reasonable way to differentiate between writers you want to work with and writers you don't want to work with is absurd.

MANY writers, very fine writers, have no clue about the online world.  Not everyone is connected to the world through a USB port and thinks of their avatar as a selfie.


It's a good idea to have an electronic address. It's one of the things I advise writers to have in place before querying.

It's NEVER been one of the reasons you won't hear back from me if you query.


I certainly am not going to tell another agent how to winnow their query stack (of course I am)  but this method is actually one that I favor for OTHER people....it means more good stuff for ME.

Is my agent an idiot? Yes, yes he is.

I've read your blog with interest, and have a question that I don't think is addressed. It's regarding expectations writers can have of their agents. Is it reasonable to assume that an agent will write a pitch that reflects the tone of the book, correctly identify the genre, and pitch to editors who are a good fit for the book?

I ask because while my agent acknowledges that the pitch he sent was misleading and the genre was not correctly identified, he says that had the editors truly liked the book they would have referred him to another editor in the house. I've always assumed that busy editors like busy agents simply do not have time to do this. And a blurb that doesn't match the book and mis-identified genre are the first reasons to reject a book. Am I wrong?

What?

WHAT?

WHAT???

Ok, I've applied a cool cloth to my fevered brow, taken a quick sip of a (medicinal purposes only) libation, and am now ready to respond.

WHAT THE EVER LIVING FUCK IS THIS??

Your agent just told you in no uncertain terms that he is an idiot.

NO, you do not ever assume that an editor will pass things on to another editor. An agent's job is to get the right editor the first time. I've spent untold hours now working on my info sheets for editors. I spend time talking to them on the phone, over lunch, on Twitter, and in other odd places (like conferences) to find out what they like to read, what books they wish they'd edited, and generally what gets them enthused. I read the books they acquire. We talk about the books they DON'T acquire (very illuminating info!) Sure, I miss the mark sometimes in that this is a very subjective industry, but at least I try to get it right.

As for wrong genre, I can understand that a bit more easily. One of my favorite JOKES is that I've sold urban fantasy "by mistake" because I thought it was something else. In fact I did think it was something else, and the urban fantasy category was decided AFTER the editor bought it and was planning the marketing for the book (and let's all notice, the book SOLD, even with the 'wrong category' which I assume from your question, is not the case with yours.)

If you get the category wrong, you're almost certain to get the wrong editor.

And a misleading pitch is deeply perplexing. It's like creating a dating profile with an old picture. Unless you're planning that the editor never read the book (or your prospective date never actually meet you) it's entirely counterproductive to get the pitch wrong. Which is not to say I haven't revised pitches if I'm not getting the enthusiasm the book deserves. (But again, you didn't say there were revisions being made.)

What the hell was your agent thinking? The only thing I can come up with after thinking about this for several days, was that your agent was trying to assess what went wrong. "I sent it to the wrong editors" as an assessment is really different than "I just sent it to editors without much thought." I've sent things to editors who didn't buy the project. That doesn't mean they were the wrong editors other than in the most black and white sense of things.

It's because all three things went wrong: pitch, category, editors, that I think something is very wrong here. You can miss two of the three (not intentionally of course) but all three is a trifecta of sloppiness.

As to your question: if an editor is led to expect and be excited about something, only to find out the book is not that at all, yes, that's a problem.

How to tell if your agent is an utter nincompoop

Follow her/him on Twitter.


If you see a Tweet that looks like this:

@EDITORAMAZING I am a lit agent. Would like to send you a submission. May I have your email?

your agent is an utter nincompoop and you may quote me by name when saying that.

Let's unpack this, as they say on the postgame show:

1. A competent agent does NOT pitch editors on Twitter unless s/he knows them REALLY well. And even then, most competent agents will say something like "hey, I've Got That" to something an editor has said, and then phone or email the pitch.

2. A competent agent either knows the editor's email address, or how to  figure it out, or knows who call to get it.  At the very least a competent agent knows that an editor is NEVER going to give out her/his email address on Twitter.

When EditorAmazing shared this tweet with her coven, a few of us did some research. Turns out the "agent" in question doesn't have any background in publishing, and has no colleagues of any kind. In other words, someone who hung out a shingle and said "I'm open for business."

And even better: sent the same tweet to several editors in a row, so that all of them, while investigating who this was, could see them.

This agent is textbook nincompoop.

Any questions?

Query Question: my agent is quitting but wants to keep my book

I signed with a wonderful agent and we're currently in the middle of the submission process (read: the manuscript is out with editors and we're in the excruciating waiting stage). Her plan was to send another round of pitches out in the next couple of weeks.

Then the bomb fell. Said wonderful agent just told me the agency is closing due to a retirement, and she had to make the difficult choice to leave agenting. I don't know the whole story, but it sounds to me like this was not an expected turn of events and that her decision is based more on personal circumstances than a desire to leave the business.

She will be letting many of her clients go, but wants to keep my project and continue to try to make the sale. If the project doesn't sell, severing ties will be simple and I'll go back to the query trenches. It's when I think of that hypothetical and much-dreamed of sale that I get all kinds of confused.


Is it foolish of me to let her sell this book when I already know she won't be around afterward? I'm green to the business side of publishing, but I would imagine an agent-author relationship doesn't end when a sale is made. She reassured me there would be a transition process and she would try to match me up with another agent, but would another agent really take me on immediately after someone else negotiated this first sale? They won't be the ones seeing the financial benefit, after all.

Maybe I'm over thinking this, but my career is only just beginning and I don't want to mess it up with an ignorant choice...

You're not over thinking this at all. You're asking exactly the right question and your Spidey sense is telling you Something Is Wrong.

Your agent should be thinking about what is best for you right now.  She should withdraw all  submissions, and let you start fresh with a new agent. If you start fresh, your new agent earns the commission from the sale and handles the deal. If Old Agent sells the book, your new agent gets none of the revenue (ever) and most likely is stuck with all the work.

There's absolutely no reason for her to keep the book other than she loves it and wants to sell it.  I'm sorry but that's NOT how a responsible agent makes choices. She is supposed to advising you on what's best for YOU, not what makes her happy.

In the best of all possible worlds, what makes her happy is also what's best for you, but this is not the best situation at all.  This is an abrupt retirement that leaves you without an advocate.  It's irresponsible and unethical.  You may quote me in large red letters. You are NOT going to agree to that.

Unless there's a death or illness or some other abrupt life event that precipitates a business closing, this is something that requires careful planning.

This is actually one of the questions you want to ask before you sign with an agent (blogged about here previously) but it sounds like your agent was as surprised by this turn of events as you were.

Here's what to do:

1. You thank your agent for her work and offer sympathy for this turn of events that neither of you are happy about.

2. You ask for the submission list. And I mean names as well as publishers.

3. You ask her to withdraw the submission because the agency is closing.

4. You make sure she has. (I am assuming here that your agent is responsible and will do what she's supposed to)

5. You start querying.  You mention your agent left mid-submission and you have editors who were considering the work.

6. You do not talk about this anywhere else ever again until you are happily published and it's one of your war stories.


You will survive this. It will make a good story.

The reason you do this, even though it's scary as hell to contemplate jumping back in to the query pool is that if she DOES sell it, you're now tied to a part time or non-agent for this book for the life of the book.  If she's off doing other things, she's not tending to your book.

Making the sale is almost the least important thing an agent does for a book.

The only analogy I can think of is deciding to have a child with a spouse who's already told you s/he's on the way out the door.

Paying an agent upfront

I am a freelance editor and ghostwriter. As part of my service, I help my clients pitch their books to literary agents.

One client just asked me a question—and I admit I don't know the answer. I was hoping you could advise me.

Is it possible for my client to hire an agent to work on his behalf? In effect, could my client offer to pay an agent an upfront amount of money—say $20,000.

The understanding would be that the agent would make a good-faith effort to represent my client for six months—and if a publishing and/or movie deal were achieved, then the agent would make the usual percentage on royalties.

If no deal were achieved, then the agent retains the upfront amount for his effort.

I know we live in a changing world, so although I initially thought this was not a viable idea—I do wonder if agents today would be willing to be hired to represent a writer.

After I got over my initial reaction (insulted rage***) I started to actually think about this.

I'm 100% sure you can find an agent to do this.

That said, why would you want an agent who's willing to gouge his/her clients? Even if it's voluntary?

And what does spending all that extra money get them?

Well, now you get to the heart of the matter: that kind of "retainer" implies the client gets more than usual service. They come first among the pack. They get first dibs on my time.

And that's why you'll never get me to agree to this: you can't buy a position in line.  You absolutely can not buy my time or my favor.  You get it for free, but you can't buy it.

That said, I'm sure you'll find some takers. They're probably not the agents you want though.




***the insulted rage was at the "good faith effort" as though you might need to pay upfront to get that.  I'm hoping my clients believe they are getting my BEST efforts on their behalf without paying me a dime till the book actually sells.

Storylines that are DOA?

I had the true joy of attending my first writers conference recently. I paid for my time at the pitch practice tables where I got to meet my first true-to-life literary agents.

The first agent seemed very closed door right from the get-go. We had 10 minutes with each agent and this one used 7 (and only 7) just to give me feedback about my query format. I was not expecting this agent to jump on my book, this was only a pitch practice, but the feedback comments on my subject were... rude. I'm not talkin' it just wasn't her type of book, but more like this agent thought I was trash for NOT writing the subjects they prefer. This agent is very vocal and opinionated online (not the agency's website) to their preferences to the point of stating "I wish the trend of fantasy and animal characters would just die."

This brings me to ask: are certain (fantasy) story lines dead? How would a writer know? And this is not just based on my own genre and findings.

Yikes! This agent sounds young, inexperienced and heady from the rarified air she's certain she's breathing in those lofty agent heights.

I have no idea if certain story lines are dead in any category. Neither does anyone else. What agents do know is what isn't selling, and what they're tired of reading.  That doesn't mean you have to pay any attention because if someone does a new twist on an old trope, and does it well, it's a whole new ball game.

And let me say this about agent pronouncements like this. We know a lot of stuff but we aren't infallible.  Some of us who've been around long enough to see trends come and go realize that what's not hot today is what we're all looking for tomorrow and it's really REALLY shortsighted to make sure a writer will never query you again cause you were rude to them at a writing conference.

So, your agent IS a dunce, because your agent is YOU!

Moonrat gets the best queries.

I think I need to ply her with sushi and liquor very soon.