When I became a literary agent a number of decades ago, I had lots of ideas of what life would be like. One was that agenting would be easy. (One of the hardest jobs I’ve ever had. But one of the most rewarding.) That the money would flow. I actually envisioned a Jaguar in my garage. (I never even caught the whiff of a Jaguar. I did manage a BMW convertible. That would be, in part, because I could combine my income with my husband’s.) Instead of these conceptions coming true, I often find myself thinking, I never thought I would say something like that as a literary agent.
It occurred to me that telling you about some of those statements might be a way to highlight some of the nooks and crannies I discovered as my agenting career moved forward.
Sharing Life
Probably the place to start is by setting the stage. Many of my clients have been with me for decades. That means we’ve done a lot of life together. Writing is highly personal, and being creative is highly interruptable. (Yes, I know that’s not a word.) When life throws a writer a curve ball, often their agent is one of the first people in their life to find out. (After family, of course.) Partly that’s because friendships have deepened between agent and author as the years unspooled. And partly because curve balls have a tendency to break into a book’s publishing schedule. Suddenly that deadline looks impossible. Having the energy to promote one’s book seems unrealistic. At moment’s like this, I’m likely to utter one of those surprising sentences…
1. I Never Thought I Would Say: You may need to take a writing break
What agent encourages a writer to stop writing!? One who cares more about the person than the product. Sure, setting aside publishing a book delays payments for the author but also for the agent. If my client happens to be making a lot of money for the publishing house, especially when there’s a new release, it can hard for everyone involved to put the author’s needs above our pocketbooks. When I first started agenting, a well-known author faced a family tragedy and just couldn’t write. The publisher pressed, offering all kinds of solutions to move the writing of the manuscript along. Any publisher who makes that mistake will do so only once. Because, when the author can write again, they will look for a new publishing home.
Other times when I may utter that statement: a chronic illness that the author needs to pay full-time attention to in hopes of alleviating the symptoms; a sudden death in the family that hits hard; or a loss of creative drive.
A good agent utters the unthinkable when it’s what the client needs–even if the client doesn’t realize how desperately they need permission to stop writing.
2. I Never Thought I Would Say: An agent is not a magic wand
Writers often think once an agent is acquired, all is right with the world. Nothing can stop them now! Unfortunately, I know no agent who can pull rabbits out of a top hat. I’d like to!
But if an idea is out of step with what publishing houses want, an agent cannot sell it for you.
If you dashed off your manuscript in a careless way, no agent can convince the editorial staff that the manuscript is acceptable. Nor can–or should–your agent explain away why AI wrote most of the manuscript.
Should you choose that marketing isn’t your thing, no agent can convince the marketing team that it’ll all be fine anyway. (As a side note, my client and I were sitting in a publishing house’s conference room to discuss the marketing of my client’s book. When a team member started listing off what part the author would play in the promotion of said book, my client replied, “I don’t enjoy those things so I won’t be doing them.” Nope, no magic wand could erase those words.)
An agent can work hard and work smart for you. And an agent can fully engage her publishing network on your behalf. But an agent cannot make your work wonderful or your book fly off bookstore shelves. (That would require magic.)
3. I Never Thought I Would Say: This contract is a mess
Okay, I’ve never used those precise words. But I have seen truly hideous, unfair, and bombastic contracts that enslave the author to the publishing house forever, pay the writer next to nothing, and specify few duties the publisher will fulfill. To counterbalance that, I have also negotiated with many sensible and sensitive contracts managers who entered into the conversation with thoughtfulness and a willingness to do everything they could to improve a contract.
But one of the things I had no idea about when I became an agent was how hard one must work to advocate for one’s client during contract negotiations.
When I first became an agent, contracts were three or four pages long. Nowadays, they run more toward 22 or 23 pages. They are a chore to do a good job on.
4. I Never Thought I Would Say: Your idea is unfocused
In my early agenting days, if a client gave me a good idea and wrote well, I knew I could sell the project. Today, the concept must be hyper-focused, and the writing exceptional. The competition for publishing slots is fierce. Hence, it never occurred to me at the beginning of my agenting career to ask my client multiple times to focus that idea more, define the audience more closely, rewrite a sample chapter again.
All this extra work results in better books, and fortunately my strong editorial background serves me well in today’s publishing climate, but still I never expected that “Your idea is unfocused,” would become my mantra.
5. I Never Thought I Would Say: AI is your new best friend
Yes, AI is fabulous at helping to research your historical novel. It can prioritize your overwhelming to-do list. Yes, it can…well, what can’t it do?
The answer to that question really is, What should it do?
It should not give you words that you use in your manuscript. It should not become your brainstorming partner. In my opinion, it should not be involved in the creation of any part of your manuscript. I’m a purist that way–mostly because I know how easy it is to give AI permission to do more and more of the creative work. And that is bad because it means your manuscript–your intellectual property–is not copyrightable and is not truly your work.
AI is not your new best friend
I see AI creeping into more and more places where it does not belong. The other day I was reading a potential client’s proposal. When I read the author’s bio, I was stunned at the way he portrayed himself. The bio was full of “puff” words, words that portrayed the person as if he were a world-renowned super-star. They added up to a bombastic paragraph, as they bumped up against each other. “Captivating writing,” “creative prowess,” “prestigious awards,” “enriching others with his wisdom at speaking events,” on and on they paraded across the page. Once I recovered from this jaw-dropping language, it occurred to me that the writer didn’t assemble those words. AI did. Never let a machine do that which you, a human, can do better.
The list of surprise sentences could go on, but I hope this brief article provides a peak into just a few of ways in which agents work to help their clients do their best work and reach the peak of their publishing potential. Ultimately, that’s what each day is about for an agent.
To maybe illumate another side, the one thing I never thought I’d say as a writer is, “I quit.”
In a culture of never-say-die it’s hard.
But the truth was that though I can write (albeit in rather an archaic voice), I have nothing to say. McLuhan is wrong in this case; my voice was my medium, but the medium was not the message. There WAS no message, other than the dilatory and the derivative.
Realizing that, I felt like a fraud, trying to put anything ‘out there’, and, indeed, even showing my face in a community of genuine writers.
It takes courage–or major discouragement–to utter those words. A decision not easily arrived at, I’m sure.
Love this list—and the backstory of agenting. Thank you for sharing your experience and wisdom!
Jill, I didn’t realize how much of retrospective this post would be. It was fun to recall what was and to ponder what publishing has become.