My Life in a Literary Agency

[Dr. Mobius]

I knew the part in white without having to be told!

Aw crap, I didn't even see the white. I skipped right over it thinking "what the hell is up with the funky line spacing?"

[Petra456]

My english class never read "Catcher" or "Lord of the Flies", I kinda wish it had.

Most of those "required reading" books i've had to find on my own.

[Young Val]

I'm going to be in the acknowledgments of a book. Weird.

[Eddie Pinz]

If you don't mind me asking, what book is it Val?

[Young Val]

I don't mind you asking at all, but unfortunately due to high confidentiality levels and an air-tight non-disclosure clause I'm unable to discuss the book or the author at all until it pubs. I'll let you know when it hits the shelves, though!

[Syphon the Sun]

Although this is unrelated to life in a literary agency, I think this is the best place to say this, since it's basically your thread, Kelly.

After years of hearing you rave about Franny and Zooey, I finally picked up a copy a few days ago. And, while Franny wasn't my particular cup of tea, I fell in love with Zooey. It was nothing short of amazing. I just wanted to say thank you. Because, even though you didn't specifically tell me to read it, I only picked it up because of you. So, thank you.

[Young Val]

You are so very, very welcome! I'm so glad you enjoyed it, honestly. It's a book so dear to my heart.

He's written loads more about the Glass family, if you're interested. Franny and Zooey are never again starring players, but they're mentioned and you get little insights as to what happens to them. There are many stories about Seymour, Buddy, Walt, and Boo Boo--almost nothing specific about Waker (at least not by name, but there have been speculations).

If you're interested I am more than happy to recommend them in my own personal favorite order.

[Petra456]

Probably half a year ago I read Franny and Zooey because it was something i've seen you talk about over and over again.

In fact, most of the books i've read in the past year have been something i've heard a pwebber mention. I kinda use pweb as a way to find new books.

[Syphon the Sun]

I'd love them recommended in your favorite order, Kelly. Thanks!

[Young Val]

Yes, we totally have a Wall Of Shame for slush at our office.

The best one-liners from today's entries:

“I have recently completed a young adult Christmas story, Angel at McDonald’s, though it is unlike any angel story I have ever read, since it includes violence, drug dealing and suspense, and a little fact that the angel involved in all this, isn’t an angel at all.”

“The world has been deprived of the cancer alley eco-thriller long enough.”

“Set in the high desert mountains of Santa Fe, I have written a 78,000 word story of a man’s conflict beween two living woman and the ghost of a third woman.”

“This manuscript is different from other churchy manuscrips in that it tells a troublesome story of two women. For 28 years, a lemon tree haunts them.”

[Eddie Pinz]

Make that Lemon tree a Lime tree and I think that we have ourselves a story.

[zeroguy]

Yes, we totally have a Wall Of Shame for slush at our office.

Slush?

Those one-liners remind me of crappy anime storyline summaries, for some reason. Specifically, I'm thinking "Bandai Guy" from "DubThis!".

[Oliver Dale]

How dare you allow this thread to fall so far down, madam. How DARE you.

[Rei]

Hear, hear!

[Young Val]

I was JUST thinking about this thread yesterday. I have a GAZILLION updates for you kids. I promise to blather on about it this afternoon, instead of daydreaming about the boy.

[Young Val]

What with Ollie's scoldings ringing in my ears, the guilt about letting this thread slip "so far down" has finally gotten to me and I'm going to surreptitiously fill you kids in as my morning progresses.

I shall begin with excuses.

The end of the year is always bizarrely frenetic. I say bizarrely because not a lot of deals actually get made between Thanksgiving and the new year, yet there's always a lot of activity. A flurry to clean up paperwork before the end of the year, to make sure that all owed money has come in and then gone out again, and--of course--the holiday cards.

The dreaded holiday cards.

The thousands upon thousands of dreaded holiday cards.

I don't know what it's like at YOUR workplace, but here at Writers House (and in publishing in general, I'm confident) there is a definitive age difference between the agents/editors and their assistants, with the average assistant being roughly 20-odd years younger than the person she assists. You'd think, then, that our superiors--being vastly intelligent, savvy, and successful people, not to mention of a mature age--would be able to behave, I don't know, like adults.

Not so, my friends. Not so.

When those dozens upon dozens of boxes of Writers House holiday cards, designed by the lovely and very talented client Diane Goode, arrived en masse from California and were stacked so haphazardly as to prohibit any movement in the lobby whatsoever, a hush fell. Not a reverent, holiday hush. A hush of pure anguish and horror. Forgive my melodrama, but I am talking a hush to end all hushes.

"What's that?" I asked brightly. Fool.

Jane looked up at me. She was still crouched over the box she had just opened. Her eyes crackled with a kind of mottled mania. The fingers of her right hand were still wrapped tightly around the yellow and plastic casing of the exacto knife, her knuckles turning white. Jane is my favorite co-worker, an assistant in the foreign rights department. She is always cheerful. To see her tense, quivering like a cornered animal desperate and willing to strike was unnerving.

"Holiday cards," she said in a whisper.

"Cool! Lemme see!" Idiot.

You've got to understand. I joined Writers House as an intern last February. This was my first experience with the company holiday cards. I didn't know any better. How could I know?

They looked harmless enough. They were pretty; glossy, with a rendition of our building on the front as is the Writers House tradition (our building is really beautiful). Sure, there were a lot of them, and I could see how the sheer numbers could be daunting. But still. Holiday cards! A nice way to break up the monotony of the day! Bringing good cheer to others! Getting into the spirit!

Moron.

All the girls started to prep. Some got jittery like rabbits. Others bared their teeth and brought the claws out. Everyone was tense and everyone was miserable. I didn't get it. They gave me pitying glances. "You'll see," they whispered, their eyes wide constellations of fear. "You'll see."

The cards arrived the week after Thanksgiving. I took the four boxes reserved for my two agents and marched them happily back to my desk. I stopped by my boss Michele's office. She looked up and saw me waving a stack of cards and smiling. "No!" she said, caught off guard. "Next week? Remind me."

Sure! No problem!

Went to boss number two, Susan. "Oh dear." Susan really does say things like 'oh dear.' "I'll get to them in a few days, honestly. I'm just swamped right now."

Sure! No problem!

Next week, nothing. The following week, nothing.

And then I began to hear it... quietly at first; I could barely make out the words. But as the days dropped away and Hanukkah began 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and ended, and Christmas grew ever closer the panic made the voices louder and as I wandered through the creaky, somewhat-spooky (it's true. Our office is actually an old mansion) corridors of Writers House I couldn't help but feel like Mary Lennox lost in the hallways of Misselthwaite, haunted by a boy's plaintive crying.

"Girls! Why are you crying?"

"B-b-b-because! My agent w-won't sign her h-h-h-holiday caaaaaaaaaaaaards!"

And it's true. They wouldn't.

And all round the building I could hear the assistants:

"Come on, Merilee. It's only 500! That's not nearly as many as last year!"

"Jodi, just get them done now and then you don't have to think about it anymore!"

"Please? Robin, please?"

And even:

"Al Zuckerman, you sign these cards this instant."

Holiday cards must be sent to every single Writers House client, and every single editor we are currently working with, have worked with in the past, or hope to work with in the future.

That's a LOT of holiday cards.

The assistants huddled in the kitchen to brew coffee and talk strategy.

"I got Robin to sign 20!" said Beth triumphantly. We applauded. "...But then she threw the pen across the room and said she didn't give a damn if anyone at [name of publisher] had a happy holiday or not. She hasn't signed any since."

We nodded, sympathetic.

"I got Jodi to sign all of hers," said Emellia, and we all felt a surge of hatred. "But then she apparently personalized them all, too, and I didn't know it. So I didn't match the names inside the cards with the envelopes I had already addressed..." Our hatred ebbed away as Emellia continued in a small voice, "I had to open them all up and start over. It will take days..."

The rest of us had come up at under ten--mostly zero. The pressure mounted as cards FOR us had begun to pour in, adding to the guilt and--worse--to the list of recipients. Elena was pissed. "Maja never updates her client list! Every morning when I get the mail, we get, like, 7 new cards in from clients that I've never heard of before! My list just keeps growing and growing and...oh god," her voice broke. We rubbed her back. Handed her coffee. "I'll never be done. Never..."

"Betcha don't think it's so cool, now," Jane said to me, but her voice was kind. We were all in it together.

And that clinched it. I was going back to my office. And I was going to make Susan and Michele sign those damn holiday cards. Then I was gonna shove 'em in their envelopes, address the hell out of 'em, and put them into the mailroom and out of my mind.





Whether or not that's what happened is something you'll have to tune back in for. I've got to get some actual work done for a little while.

[Oliver Dale]

Ha!

How sublimely hellacious.

[Rei]

Wow. That was beautiful. Much like how watching Alfred Hitchcock is beautiful.

[Dr. Mobius]

...with every Christmas card I write...

I don't know how many times or how many different renditions of "White Christmas" I've heard over the past few days, but every single one of them made me think of you, Kelly.

[starlooker]

*demands loudly to know the rest of the story*

[Young Val]

Ok, time to 'fess up.

I have been too embarrassed to keep writing in this thread until I finish the story of the damn holiday cards. (IT'S APRIL, you're screaming. I know, I know. We've lost the trust). I've been trying to write about the damn holiday cards, honestly I have. I kept a little Word doc. open and I would force myself to squeak out more painful details every week or so. But writing it was torturous. Even more so than LIVING it, perhaps. And then... I accidentally deleted it. It WAS an accident, I swear.

And now I just don't have the energy to write it all over again.

So I'm just... not gonna tell you what happened. Evil! Yes. Maybe around next Christmas time I'll be feeling "in the spirit" so to speak. Maybe you'll get resolution then. BUT NOT NOW.

Now that THAT awful weight is off my chest--this thread is once again open for business! Rather than hijacking other people's threads (which I very rudely did yesterday) here you can ask me anything you like (if you DARE!) about the industry and I'll answer.

I'll also continue bitching and moaning and complaining and every now and again rejoicing about the daily ins and outs of book publishing.

HURRAH!!!

[Oliver Dale]

Great to have you back.

[locke]

I feel we need to have some sort of closure. perhaps a calvinball esque riff on what 'really' happened--because, you know, clearly, er, there is, uh, a conspiracy about to deny us the truth that aliens from planet Zworgmff came down and zapped all the holiday cards, rearranging all the letters on the cards to say...

[Yebra]

that aliens from planet Zworgmff came down and zapped all the holiday cards, rearranging all the letters on the cards to say...

Fact: Dyslexia is caused by aliens moving letters around when no one's looking.

[Young Val]

I feel we need to have some sort of closure. perhaps a calvinball esque riff on what 'really' happened--because, you know, clearly, er, there is, uh, a conspiracy about to deny us the truth that aliens from planet Zworgmff came down and zapped all the holiday cards, rearranging all the letters on the cards to say...

HOW DID YOU KNOW?


Ok, ok.


FACT: The holiday cards did go out. Whether or not they went out before the holidays were long, long gone, well...

FACT: Physical injuries were sustained by multiple parties in the process of holiday card signing and distribution.

FACT: Forgery may or may not have come into play.

[Eddie Pinz]

So a dealine was missed, people got hurt and a crime may or may not have been committed?? Come on, it sounds like a great story. Maybe you can tell it for Chirstmas in July.

[VelvetElvis]

I've alway enjoyed Christmas in July, because my birthday happens to be on the 25.

[Young Val]

So, I haven't updated this thread in a while (even though I swore I would) because my feelings about work have become extremely ambivalent. Truth be told, I am out-growing my job. I'm so thoroughly bored.

I've been an assistant for a year now, working for two agents (unheard of) as well as heading the sub rights department for what is arguably the largest and most successful literary agency in NYC. I've also got several high-profile publishing internships under my belt. My job--while still excruciatingly chaotic--is no longer challenging. One of my bosses is dealing with a huge personal crisis, so I'm taking up a lot of her slack as well, which is at least interesting--even if I can't make executive decisions.

All that jibberish to say: I've begun, quietly, cautiously, to build my own client list. I haven't signed anyone yet, as I'm still in the fledgling stages of this, but I've got two project and authors that I'm developing--one I hope to have in submission-ready condition by the end of the summer. Editing is my very favorite part of this job and it's really exhilarating to be able to work so closely with a writer on a work I hope to one day officially represent. I feel exceptionally passionate about these projects that I'm editing, rather than the (sundry) projects I edit for my bosses, because I'm not hindered by their creative visions but can really focus on what the authors want to write and what I personally want to represent (YA & middlegrade fantasy and high-end literary coming-of-age stories, as well as adult literary fiction, modern-day comedies of manners, anything with edge or grit, and a dash of urban fantasy--for those interested).

I'll let you know how it goes!


(Also, for all you HP fans: I've just finished reading HARRY, A HISTORY by Melissa Anelli. It's GOOD).

[LilBee91]

As a HP freak I'm oozing with jealousy.

Just out of curiosity, when you take on a client to you just take on one of their manuscripts, or do you commit yourself to the author for whatever writing they come up with?

Also, how much to you have to interact with publishers? Is there a whole subset of the agency business that spends every waking moment schmoozing big publishers?

And good luck with your projects!

[Young Val]

Normally when you take on a client you agree to handle all of their future projects until such a time as one or both of you wish to cease the professional relationship (in such cases, though, the agent would still remain the agent of record for all books she sold, and would thus handle all subrights sales and royalties for that title, and would still be entitled to a commission on all monies that come in for that title). Although I have heard of agents taking on just one of a client's projects--that is usually rare, and as an author (or an illustrator) it's really far, far more beneficial to have an intelligent, aggressive agent on your side. Why would you give one up if you've been lucky enough to land one?

As far as interaction with publishers--there's a LOT. Agents actually spend more face-time with publishers than they do with their clients, in general. That's because the publishing industry in America (yes, with one or two notable exceptions) is centered pretty firmly and completely in New York City--whereas authors are scattered all over the country (and world!). Email and phone are constant communication tools between editors and agents (mail by post is slowly SLOWLY fading out--but it will be at least another decade before it's obsolete. Publishing is SUCH an old-school industry). But LUNCH is really where it's at. Publishers and agents LOVE to lunch. Lunching is one of the biggest aspects of getting a book published. The hierarchy of lunches go like this: Publisher pays for lunches with agent. Agent pays for lunches with client. Client doesn't pay for lunches.

It's a small, small industry. Anyone who's anyone knows everyone else. And beyond lunches, there are conferences, and book launching parties, and dinners, and benefits, and award ceremonies, and all kinds of things. In short: lots of elbow-rubbing and glad-handing and eating and drinking between editors and agents. Lots.

[starlooker]

I was very envious of your life until that last post. I could not handle the whole "lunching" thing. I just couldn't. "Networking" in general scares me to bits.

[Jayelle]

Normally when you take on a client you agree to handle all of their future projects until such a time as one or both of you wish to cease the professional relationship

So that would be why someone can publish crappier books after they've published one or two good ones?

[starlooker]

Ah-ha! Catching Successful Author Syndrome at its roots.

[Young Val]

True, but a good agent wouldn't sell anything they don't believe in. My boss just last week told a published client gently but firmly that she did not like his current manuscript after multiple revisions, had not liked it from the beginning, did not think she could EVER like it, and felt unable to sell it to anyone, ever, and that it was time to move on to the next project.

As for the "syndrome" in question, sometimes a publisher buys 2 books in advance, one completed, one not yet written. And the author has to write another, even though they're creatively dry at the moment. That accounts for some sophomore(ish) slumps as well.

[Eaquae Legit]

How does one explain Robert Jordan and Terry Goodkind? The rabid fanbase demanding books, books, BOOKS! ?