Most of you know I have an agent. She's Cori Deyoe of 3 Seas Literary. If you can find an agent who is as perfect for you as Cori is for me, marry her--ish.
Here are the basics you want in that marriage:
Agent should love the author's writing.
Agent should love the author's writing so much that said agent is determined to find that author a home for all that author's sellable work.
Phone calls between author and agent should leave both parties higher than kites about said author's career.
That's it from where I stand. Just three things. Love, love, and a pie in the sky. I'm just waiting on that pie to fall from said sky and land cherry-side up on my desk...
Showing posts with label agents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label agents. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Piss or Get Off The Pot--Seriously
I'll be gentle for those readers just joining this blog...
If you wish you were a dancer, do you tell people you're a dancer, hoping that someday you can prove you weren't lying?
No.
If you wish you could be a rock star, do you tell people you are a rock star and hope, by some flick of a wand, you will suddenly become one?
No.
Then why would you tell anyone you are a writer if you do not write? Writing is the key. Actually hitting those keys on a regular (or regularly sporadic) basis will do.
Let me give an example.
I was enrolled in a screenwriting class a few years ago. We all decided we would write screenplays and enter them into a major contest. We all cranked out what we thought was a brilliant attempt, which was probably complete dark sticky piles of ****. We entered and got lovely loser letters with a raised little Oscar on the stationery. It was very exciting.
Some of us were all hanging out in an office during a Sundance Event being held downstairs, in the art gallery, when our professer walked in. A very popular movie producer walked in behind him, and everyone scrambled to get out of their way. I didn't recognize the guy, so I stayed where I was. Then a great thing happened that I will always remember.
The professer introduced me. "Lesli, this is So and So. So and So, this is Lesli Lytle, a writer."
It wasn't that I got to shake the guy's hand and he treated me well. It wasn't that we made small talk about Robert Redford. The thrilling part was being called a writer.
After Mr. Big left, I thanked the professer for calling me a writer and said he'd really given me a thrill. He frowned and said, "I wasn't pretending you were a writer; you are a writer. You don't have to have a Guild card to be a writer. You have to write."
I've introduced myself as a writer ever since.
So.
Are you a rock star?
Are you a writer?
So, if you are a writer, are you selling your material yourself? How's that going for you?
What about an agent? If you're not trying to sell yourself to magazines or publishing houses, you must be trying to find an agent to do it for you.
No?
WHY THE HELL NOT?
You don't think your product is ready? When will it be? You don't know? Then you'd better be finding out. Find someone to read your baby. More importantly, when you find someone willing to take the time to read a chapter or two, ACTUALLY HOLD OUT YOUR BABY AND LET SOMEONE TAKE IT.
It's not going to be your only baby, surely. And if it stinks, you don't have to spend the rest of your life feeding it and trying to make it a pretty baby. You get to start over.
Here's some great motivation for you to aggressively seek an agent:
Pretend I can tell the future. For you. Just for you.
What if I tell you that you will find an agent only after you have received 30 rejection letters/emails?
What if I tell you that you will be published only after you have written four complete novels?
Here's the promise:
After you have queried 30 agents, and after you have completed 4 novels, you will have a really good grasp on what you need to improve in order to land an agent. Finding a publisher is the agent's business.
And when I say four novels, I don't mean absolutely pristine, polished-like-a-brass-doorknob finished. I mean finished. It doesn't have to be the Holy Bible, or Lord of the Rings, or Pride and Prejudice. It has to be you.
Four books and 30 emails. The only way to fail is to give up--and you know it. That's why you say you are a writer, to deny that you have given up. If indeed you have given up, I say, piss or get off the pot. Admit it and make your life easier.
If you haven't given up, then you'd better get your query letter ready and a list of agents. Make sure your first three chapters are as good as you can get them, and give yourself a time limit to get that done. (As in a number of days, not weeks.) When time is up, you have to stop and say "good enough".
I want to hear about it.
(By the way, I got my agent with my second book, but by the time I signed, I had four books finished and thirty rejections in the can.)
If you wish you were a dancer, do you tell people you're a dancer, hoping that someday you can prove you weren't lying?
No.
If you wish you could be a rock star, do you tell people you are a rock star and hope, by some flick of a wand, you will suddenly become one?
No.
Then why would you tell anyone you are a writer if you do not write? Writing is the key. Actually hitting those keys on a regular (or regularly sporadic) basis will do.
Let me give an example.
I was enrolled in a screenwriting class a few years ago. We all decided we would write screenplays and enter them into a major contest. We all cranked out what we thought was a brilliant attempt, which was probably complete dark sticky piles of ****. We entered and got lovely loser letters with a raised little Oscar on the stationery. It was very exciting.
Some of us were all hanging out in an office during a Sundance Event being held downstairs, in the art gallery, when our professer walked in. A very popular movie producer walked in behind him, and everyone scrambled to get out of their way. I didn't recognize the guy, so I stayed where I was. Then a great thing happened that I will always remember.
The professer introduced me. "Lesli, this is So and So. So and So, this is Lesli Lytle, a writer."
It wasn't that I got to shake the guy's hand and he treated me well. It wasn't that we made small talk about Robert Redford. The thrilling part was being called a writer.
After Mr. Big left, I thanked the professer for calling me a writer and said he'd really given me a thrill. He frowned and said, "I wasn't pretending you were a writer; you are a writer. You don't have to have a Guild card to be a writer. You have to write."
I've introduced myself as a writer ever since.
So.
Are you a rock star?
Are you a writer?
So, if you are a writer, are you selling your material yourself? How's that going for you?
What about an agent? If you're not trying to sell yourself to magazines or publishing houses, you must be trying to find an agent to do it for you.
No?
WHY THE HELL NOT?
You don't think your product is ready? When will it be? You don't know? Then you'd better be finding out. Find someone to read your baby. More importantly, when you find someone willing to take the time to read a chapter or two, ACTUALLY HOLD OUT YOUR BABY AND LET SOMEONE TAKE IT.
It's not going to be your only baby, surely. And if it stinks, you don't have to spend the rest of your life feeding it and trying to make it a pretty baby. You get to start over.
Here's some great motivation for you to aggressively seek an agent:
Pretend I can tell the future. For you. Just for you.
What if I tell you that you will find an agent only after you have received 30 rejection letters/emails?
What if I tell you that you will be published only after you have written four complete novels?
Here's the promise:
After you have queried 30 agents, and after you have completed 4 novels, you will have a really good grasp on what you need to improve in order to land an agent. Finding a publisher is the agent's business.
And when I say four novels, I don't mean absolutely pristine, polished-like-a-brass-doorknob finished. I mean finished. It doesn't have to be the Holy Bible, or Lord of the Rings, or Pride and Prejudice. It has to be you.
Four books and 30 emails. The only way to fail is to give up--and you know it. That's why you say you are a writer, to deny that you have given up. If indeed you have given up, I say, piss or get off the pot. Admit it and make your life easier.
If you haven't given up, then you'd better get your query letter ready and a list of agents. Make sure your first three chapters are as good as you can get them, and give yourself a time limit to get that done. (As in a number of days, not weeks.) When time is up, you have to stop and say "good enough".
I want to hear about it.
(By the way, I got my agent with my second book, but by the time I signed, I had four books finished and thirty rejections in the can.)
Sunday, May 2, 2010
TRYING TO TRY
I'd been trying all month to start a new book. All month.
Okay, I'll admit I'd been trying to try.
I'd thought about it often. I'd been bored a couple of times and wandered into my office, wondering what I should be doing, then realizing what that something was. I'd even shut the door and intended to send children away if they came in to whine for something, but none of them came. And with such little effort needed, it should have been easy to start a new story.
But I didn't. If it was going to be that easy, I could start it again in a day or two. But now it's turned into a month or two. NOT. GOOD.
So, what I did was this:
First, I made it a goal to finish the first half of a new book by the end of this new month. Then I took my office apart--with the distinct goal of putting it back together again by the end of the weekend--and rearranged my Feng and my Shui. At least that goal was reached.
Whatever the directional flow of wind (feng) and water (shui) that accompanied the writing of my last work has been drastically changed.
While seated at my desk, I'm facing Southwest, for heaven's sake. The doorway is located at 7:00, BEHIND ME. There is no water fountain , but the breeze in my 50 foot trees can be heard and seen to my right .
Things I should have taken care of, or organized long ago, are now stacked in nice piles upon a bench under the window. My three awards are dusted and hung above the closet, and the framed cork boards are up on the wall after waiting patiently in a corner for over a year. The perfect chair is now in the perfect corner--an impossible feat, I assure you. The 18th Century Italian cabinet lurkes at my back, which may or may not inspire some gothic overtones in "the new book". And a copy of that contract I just signed with my first agent sits near my left elbow to remind me that I have at least one fan for whom I will write this story. It's not just for me anymore.
That's right, Geppetto, I'm almost a real boy now. I got no strings to hold me down, to make me fret or make me frown. My cricket's name is Cori, and I'm headed out of the house. I've cashed in my wish-upon-a-star, and now I've got to earn my little pink nose. Only difference between me and Pinnochio is: I've GOT to tell a real whopper of a story to earn mine.
Here's hoping for a mind-blower.
L
Okay, I'll admit I'd been trying to try.
I'd thought about it often. I'd been bored a couple of times and wandered into my office, wondering what I should be doing, then realizing what that something was. I'd even shut the door and intended to send children away if they came in to whine for something, but none of them came. And with such little effort needed, it should have been easy to start a new story.
But I didn't. If it was going to be that easy, I could start it again in a day or two. But now it's turned into a month or two. NOT. GOOD.
So, what I did was this:
First, I made it a goal to finish the first half of a new book by the end of this new month. Then I took my office apart--with the distinct goal of putting it back together again by the end of the weekend--and rearranged my Feng and my Shui. At least that goal was reached.
Whatever the directional flow of wind (feng) and water (shui) that accompanied the writing of my last work has been drastically changed.
While seated at my desk, I'm facing Southwest, for heaven's sake. The doorway is located at 7:00, BEHIND ME
Things I should have taken care of, or organized long ago, are now stacked in nice piles upon a bench under the window. My three awards are dusted and hung above the closet, and the framed cork boards are up on the wall after waiting patiently in a corner for over a year. The perfect chair is now in the perfect corner--an impossible feat, I assure you. The 18th Century Italian cabinet lurkes at my back, which may or may not inspire some gothic overtones in "the new book". And a copy of that contract I just signed with my first agent sits near my left elbow to remind me that I have at least one fan for whom I will write this story. It's not just for me anymore.
That's right, Geppetto, I'm almost a real boy now. I got no strings to hold me down, to make me fret or make me frown. My cricket's name is Cori, and I'm headed out of the house. I've cashed in my wish-upon-a-star, and now I've got to earn my little pink nose. Only difference between me and Pinnochio is: I've GOT to tell a real whopper of a story to earn mine.
Here's hoping for a mind-blower.
L
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
HAVE I LOST A HUNDRED POUNDS?
I sure FEEL like I've lost a hundred pounds.
On April 15th I signed with a literary agent, and now I'm warring with some pretty bizarre feelings nearly a week later.
I've taken a can opener and pried the "aggressive writer" hat off my head. I've notified everyone with my query, partial, or full that all of my works have found representation. And BOY, wasn't that unreal, UNdoing all that work, then getting lovely notes from people who suddenly saw me differently.
I guess it's kind of like losing a whole lot of weight--people are happy to look me in the eye.
Is it unfair for people to avoid eye contact with overweight people? Of course it is. But is there anything, realistically, that can be done about it? I'd say, not short of jumping on the table and dancing around until they look at you.
My point, Nuwanda, is that unpublished writers are fat. Well, we're kind of invisible in the same way as those of us who take up a bit more space in the world. I've been dancing and singing on this table for quite a while now, and The Call came just in time. My arms were getting tired from waving. My voice was getting hoarse, and the taps on my shoes were no longer tapping, so much as dragging.
So I'm climbing down off the table, with the help of my new agent, Cori. The platform is all yours, and hopefully I won't be back to try and bump you off for another try.
Sing loud. Dance pretty. And good luck!
Lesli
On April 15th I signed with a literary agent, and now I'm warring with some pretty bizarre feelings nearly a week later.
I've taken a can opener and pried the "aggressive writer" hat off my head. I've notified everyone with my query, partial, or full that all of my works have found representation. And BOY, wasn't that unreal, UNdoing all that work, then getting lovely notes from people who suddenly saw me differently.
I guess it's kind of like losing a whole lot of weight--people are happy to look me in the eye.
Is it unfair for people to avoid eye contact with overweight people? Of course it is. But is there anything, realistically, that can be done about it? I'd say, not short of jumping on the table and dancing around until they look at you.
My point, Nuwanda, is that unpublished writers are fat. Well, we're kind of invisible in the same way as those of us who take up a bit more space in the world. I've been dancing and singing on this table for quite a while now, and The Call came just in time. My arms were getting tired from waving. My voice was getting hoarse, and the taps on my shoes were no longer tapping, so much as dragging.
So I'm climbing down off the table, with the help of my new agent, Cori. The platform is all yours, and hopefully I won't be back to try and bump you off for another try.
Sing loud. Dance pretty. And good luck!
Lesli
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Agent Stalking is a Good Thing
A writer must have invented "TWITTER".
Seriously.
Wish you could get to know these agents a little before deciding whether or not to query them?
Target/Agent doesn't blog, but does she tweet?
Going crazy waiting to hear back from an agent or two? Wish you could see what their day is like, if they ever spend any time looking at submissions, and why in the world haven't they reached out for yours, which you're sure is sitting right in front of their faces? (ahem)
If I had the capacity for internet program design, and if I were a similarly neurotic writer, I'd invent a program that would seduce agents and editors, and famous writers, to jot down a line or two during their days, telling me just what it was they were thinking or doing at the moment. I'd arrange their comments to be sent to my own little window on their world. I'd make sure I could send off a pithy response or two which they actually may read...sometimes.
I'd make it the coolest thing to join. I'd give it a cute name.
Twitter, maybe. What is cuter than taking a moment to tweet?
Okay, so Twitter may just as easily have been created by someone who likes to stalk others...
Sounds like a writer to me.
Of course it’s not as exciting as stalking them in person, at a national conference, for instance. It’s not as classy as linen stationary correspondence. But it’s great for weeding out agents whose attitude rubs you raw, or who lets it slip that something incredibly close to what you’re shopping around is really not his/her cup of tea, even though he/she requested said cup of tea which is currently sitting on his/her desk, getting cold.
On the other hand, you may find an agent’s sense of humor makes you laugh EVERY TIME she tweets. You see that she just may be the one to GET you. You may find that this perfect agent is going to participate in a conference just a state or two away and if you’re quick, you may get a face to face appointment!
Disclaimer: as someone who has tried to limit her time on-line, joining Twitter was the last thing I had planned to do. But I’m happy I did. My neurosis has lessened. I don’t spend time wondering what an agent is doing. I now have a good guess. I know he or she has a lot more on her plate than I used to think. Client reads, edits, edits, edits, submissions to read, then a hundred more tomorrow. When I get a reply back, I feel a bit more blessed.
So, if you have some stalking to do, I’m just sayin’... After all, that’s what the Indians used to do. Hide in the bushes and make bird calls.
Ainsley MacQueen
Seriously.
Wish you could get to know these agents a little before deciding whether or not to query them?
Target/Agent doesn't blog, but does she tweet?
Going crazy waiting to hear back from an agent or two? Wish you could see what their day is like, if they ever spend any time looking at submissions, and why in the world haven't they reached out for yours, which you're sure is sitting right in front of their faces? (ahem)
If I had the capacity for internet program design, and if I were a similarly neurotic writer, I'd invent a program that would seduce agents and editors, and famous writers, to jot down a line or two during their days, telling me just what it was they were thinking or doing at the moment. I'd arrange their comments to be sent to my own little window on their world. I'd make sure I could send off a pithy response or two which they actually may read...sometimes.
I'd make it the coolest thing to join. I'd give it a cute name.
Twitter, maybe. What is cuter than taking a moment to tweet?
Okay, so Twitter may just as easily have been created by someone who likes to stalk others...
Sounds like a writer to me.
Of course it’s not as exciting as stalking them in person, at a national conference, for instance. It’s not as classy as linen stationary correspondence. But it’s great for weeding out agents whose attitude rubs you raw, or who lets it slip that something incredibly close to what you’re shopping around is really not his/her cup of tea, even though he/she requested said cup of tea which is currently sitting on his/her desk, getting cold.
On the other hand, you may find an agent’s sense of humor makes you laugh EVERY TIME she tweets. You see that she just may be the one to GET you. You may find that this perfect agent is going to participate in a conference just a state or two away and if you’re quick, you may get a face to face appointment!
Disclaimer: as someone who has tried to limit her time on-line, joining Twitter was the last thing I had planned to do. But I’m happy I did. My neurosis has lessened. I don’t spend time wondering what an agent is doing. I now have a good guess. I know he or she has a lot more on her plate than I used to think. Client reads, edits, edits, edits, submissions to read, then a hundred more tomorrow. When I get a reply back, I feel a bit more blessed.
So, if you have some stalking to do, I’m just sayin’... After all, that’s what the Indians used to do. Hide in the bushes and make bird calls.
Ainsley MacQueen
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