We’ve spent some time on the blog discussing
query letters,
synopses,
elevator pitches,
genres, and
manuscript formatting.
Let’s say you’ve done all that. You’ve written a great novel, ran it through a
critique buddy or two, polished the query letter, all of it.
What next?
Researching literary agents, of course.
I think this step actually starts way back at the beginning and you should do it in bits and pieces as you prepare to query. No matter how you do it, just make sure you do. After all, you want to place your novel with an agent that will A) be a good match for you personality-wise B) likes your genre C) has contacts in your genre and D) has the best possibility of garnering a request from the query letter.
Thus, you must research.
Now, if you know me, I actually despise research—except for researching agents. I find this kind of research hopeful, because I know that I can find the literary agents that will be the best ones to query for my work. Here’s a few tips for making this process a little easier.
1. Search by genre. There is absolutely no point in querying agents who don’t represent your genre. It’s a colossal waste of your time—and theirs. Using the main QueryTracker site, this is easy, easy, easy.
Simply find your genre in the drop down menu and click search.
2. Once you’ve identified agents according to genre,
find out all you can about them. On the "Overview & User Comments" tab, I can see everything I need to research the agent. For Kae Tienstra, there is her email address, a website listed, a blog, links to Publisher’s Marketplace, AgentQuery, AAR, Preditors & Editors, methods of submitting, the whole nine yards.
I typically open all of these links at once by clicking on them and letting them load in their own window. Then I systematically read each one, checking for the following:
o Submission Guidelines
o What they’re looking for
o Response times
o Anything else I think would help identify Kae as an agent I want to query.
Another thing I check on QueryTracker: the user comments. I can see experiences from people who have queried this agent before. And if you’re a
premium member, you can run all kinds of reports about
query response times, request rates and
agents with similar tastes.
3. Now I’m 95% sure that I want to query Kae. One more thing I always do:
a Google search with the words, “interview with literary agent XXX”. This is a good way to further discover if the agent you’re researching is looking for a book like yours. We’ve done two interviews with literary agents (
Anna Webman and
Beth Fleisher) as well as a reposting of
Ginger Clark’s interview. Cynthia Leitich Smith does several interviews each month with literary agents on her blog,
Cynsations. The
Guide to Literary Agents blog is also a terrific resource for interviews and what specific agents are looking for.
Now that I know I want to query Kae, I prepare the first paragraph of my query letter. I tend to try to find something personal about each agent to begin the query with. This is where the blog I’ve been reading or the interview I’ve found comes in. My first line is usually something like this:
“In an interview you gave on the Cynsations blog, you said you were looking for “teen protagonists with a strong voice”. Because of this, I believe you would be interested in my young adult novel, XXX.” Then I launch into my hook, query, sinker. The agent knows I’ve done my research, and that I’m not spamming every agent in AgentLand with the same email.
I think many times, aspiring authors will only complete step number one, and search by genre. I don’t think this is enough. I think you owe it to yourself and to the agents you’re querying to do more than that. Read their websites and blogs. Familiarize yourself with their sales records and
what they’re selling. Find out everything you can about the agent and their agency (forum discussions, following them on Twitter, reading books by authors they represent) before you hit send or affix that postage stamp.
Researching agents should not be skipped. It’s as important as the query letter. And we all know how important that is. A fabulous query letter is worthless unless you get it in front of the right agents. So roll up those sleeves, and do your research!
One day as I browsed the web for tips on writing, I came across a goldmine. I immediately contacted Pat Holt, the author of the treasure trove, asking for permission to reprint it on this blog. It was a delight to correspond with her, and I have since become an avid follower of her site and am always amazed at the clarity with which she sees (and sees through) the issues facing writers today.Ten Mistakes Writers Don’t See (But Can Easily Fix When They Do)Like many editorial consultants, I’ve been concerned about the amount of time I’ve been spending on easy fixes that the author shouldn’t have to pay for.
Sometimes the question of where to put a comma, how to use a verb or why not to repeat a word can be important, even strategic. But most of the time the author either missed that day’s grammar lesson in elementary school or is too close to the manuscript to make corrections before I see it.
So the following is a list I’ll be referring to people *before* they submit anything in writing to anybody (me, agent, publisher, your mom, your boss). From email messages and front-page news in the New York Times to published books and magazine articles, the 10 ouchies listed here crop up everywhere. They’re so pernicious that even respected Internet columnists are not immune.
The list also could be called, “10 COMMON PROBLEMS THAT DISMISS YOU AS AN AMATEUR,” because these mistakes are obvious to literary agents and editors, who may start wording their decline letter by page 5. What a tragedy that would be.
So here we go:
1. REPEATSJust about every writer unconsciously leans on a “crutch” word. Hillary
Clinton’s repeated word is “eager” (can you believe it? the committee
that wrote Living History should be ashamed). Cosmopolitan magazine
editor Kate White uses “quickly” over a dozen times in A Body To Die
For. Jack Kerouac’s crutch word in On the Road is “sad,” sometimes
doubly so - “sad, sad.” Ann Packer’s in The Dive from Clausen’s Pier
is “weird.”
Crutch words are usually unremarkable. That’s why they slip under
editorial radar - they’re not even worth repeating, but there you have
it, pop, pop, pop, up they come. Readers, however, notice them, get
irked by them and are eventually distracted by them, and down goes your
book, never to be opened again.
But even if the word is unusual, and even if you use it differently when
you repeat it, don’t: Set a higher standard for yourself even if readers
won’t notice. In Jennifer Egan’s Look at me, the core word - a good
word, but because it’s good, you get *one* per book - is “abraded.”
Here’s the problem:
“Victoria’s blue gaze abraded me with the texture of ground glass.” page 202
“…(metal trucks abrading the concrete)…” page 217
“…he relished the abrasion of her skepticism…” page 256
“…since his abrasion with Z …” page 272
The same goes for repeats of several words together - a phrase or
sentence that may seem fresh at first, but, restated many times, draws
attention from the author’s strengths. Sheldon Siegel nearly bludgeons
us in his otherwise witty and articulate courtroom thriller, Final
Verdict, with a sentence construction that’s repeated throughout the
book:
“His tone oozes self-righteousness when he says…” page 188
“His voice is barely audible when he says…” page 193
“His tone is unapologetic when he says…” page 199
“Rosie keeps her tone even when she says…” page 200
“His tone is even when he says…” page 205
“I switch to my lawyer voice when I say …” page 211
“He sounds like Grace when he says…” page 211
What a tragedy. I’m not saying all forms of this sentence should be
lopped off. Lawyers find their rhythm in the courtroom by phrasing
questions in the same or similar way. It’s just that you can’t do it too
often on the page. After the third or fourth or 16th time, readers
exclaim silently, “Where was the editor who shoulda caught this?” or
“What was the author thinking?
1. So if you are the author, don’t wait for the agent or house or even editorial consultant to catch this stuff *for* you. Attune your eye now. Vow to yourself, NO REPEATS.
And by the way, even deliberate repeats should always be questioned: “Here are the documents.” says one character. “If these are the documents, I’ll oppose you,” says another. A repeat like that just keeps us on the surface. Figure out a different word; or rewrite the exchange. Repeats rarely allow you to probe deeper.
2. FLAT WRITING“He wanted to know but couldn’t understand what she had to say, so he waited until she was ready to tell him before asking what she meant.”
Something is conveyed in this sentence, but who cares? The writing is so flat, it just dies on the page. You can’t fix it with a few replacement words - you have to give it depth, texture, character. Here’s another:
“Bob looked at the clock and wondered if he would have time to stop for gas before driving to school to pick up his son after band practice.” True, this could be important - his wife might have hired a private investigator to document Bob’s inability to pick up his son on time - and it could be that making the sentence bland invests it with more tension. (This is the editorial consultant giving you the benefit of the doubt.) Most of the time, though, a sentence like this acts as filler. It gets us from A to B, all right, but not if we go to the kitchen to make a sandwich and find something else to read when we sit down.
Flat writing is a sign that you’ve lost interest or are intimidated by your own narrative. It shows that you’re veering toward mediocrity, that your brain is fatigued, that you’ve lost your inspiration. So use it as a lesson. When you see flat writing on the page, it’s time to rethink, refuel and rewrite.
3. EMPTY ADVERBSActually, totally, absolutely, completely, continually, constantly, continuously, literally, really, unfortunately, ironically, incredibly, hopefully, finally - these and others are words that promise emphasis, but too often they do the reverse. They suck the meaning out of every sentence.
I defer to People Magazine for larding its articles with empty adverbs. A recent issue refers to an “incredibly popular, groundbreakingly racy sitcom.” That’s tough to say even when your lips aren’t moving.
In Still Life with Crows, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child describe a mysterious row of corn in the middle of a field: “It was, in fact, the only row that actually opened onto the creek.” Here are two attempts at emphasis (”in fact,” “actually”), but they just junk up the sentence. Remove them both and the word “only” carries the burden of the sentence with efficiency and precision.
(When in doubt, try this mantra: Precise and spare; precise and spare; precise and spare.)
In dialogue, empty adverbs may sound appropriate, even authentic, but that’s because they’ve crept into American conversation in a trendy way. If you’re not watchful, they’ll make your characters sound wordy, infantile and dated.
In Julia Glass’s Three Junes, a character named Stavros is a forthright and matter-of-fact guy who talks to his lover without pretense or affectation. But when he mentions an offbeat tourist souvenir, he says, “It’s absolutely wild. I love it.” Now he sounds fey, spoiled, superficial.. (Granted, “wild” nearly does him in; but “absolutely” is the killer.)
The word “actually” seems to emerge most frequently, I find. Ann Packer’s narrator recalls running in the rain with her boyfriend, “his hand clasping mine as if he could actually make me go fast.” Delete “actually” and the sentence is more powerful without it.
The same holds true when the protagonist named Miles hears some information in Empire Falls by Richard Russo. “Actually, Miles had no doubt of it,” we’re told. Well, if he had no doubt, remove “actually” - it’s cleaner, clearer that way. “Actually” mushes up sentence after sentence; it gets in the way every time. I now think it should *never* be used.
Another problem with empty adverbs: You can’t just stick them at the beginning of a sentence to introduce a general idea or wishful thinking, as in “Hopefully, the clock will run out.” Adverbs have to modify a verb or other adverb, and in this sentence, “run out” ain’t it.
Look at this hilarious clunker from The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown: “Almost inconceivably, the gun into which she was now staring was clutched in the pale hand of an enormous albino.”
Ack, “almost inconceivably” - that’s like being a little bit infertile! Hopefully, that “enormous albino” will ironically go back to actually flogging himself while incredibly saying his prayers continually.
4. PHONY DIALOGUEBe careful of using dialogue to advance the plot. Readers can tell when characters talk about things they already know, or when the speakers appear to be having a conversation for our benefit. You never want one character to imply or say to the other, “Tell me again, Bruce: What are we doing next?”
Avoid words that are fashionable in conversation. Ann Packer’s characters are so trendy the reader recoils. ” ‘What’s up with that?’ I said. ‘Is this a thing [love affair]?’ ” “We both smiled. ” ‘What is it with him?’ I said. ‘I mean, really.’ ” Her book is only a few years old, and already it’s dated.
Dialogue offers glimpses into character the author can’t provide through description. Hidden wit, thoughtful observations, a shy revelation, a charming aside all come out in dialogue, so the characters *show* us what the author can’t *tell* us. But if dialogue helps the author distinguish each character, it also nails the culprit who’s promoting a hidden agenda by speaking out of character.
An unfortunate pattern within the dialogue in Three Junes, by the way, is that all the male characters begin to sound like the author’s version of Noel Coward - fey, acerbic, witty, superior, puckish, diffident. Pretty soon the credibility of the entire novel is shot. You owe it to each character’s unique nature to make every one of them an original.
Now don’t tell me that because Julia Glass won the National Book Award, you can get away with lack of credibility in dialogue. Setting your own high standards and sticking to them - being proud of *having* them - is the mark of a pro. Be one, write like one, and don’t cheat.
5. NO-GOOD SUFFIXESDon’t take a perfectly good word and give it a new backside so it functions as something else. The New York Times does this all the time. Instead of saying, “as a director, she is meticulous,” the reviewer will write, “as a director, she is known for her meticulousness.” Until she is known for her obtuseness.
The “ness” words cause the eye to stumble, come back, reread: Mindlessness, characterlessness, courageousness, statuesqueness, preciousness - you get the idea. You might as well pour marbles into your readers’ mouths. Not all “ness” words are bad - goodness, no - but they are all suspect.
The “ize” words are no better - finalize, conceptualize, fantasize, categorize. The “ize” hooks itself onto words as a short-cut but stays there like a parasite. Cops now say to each other about witnesses they’ve interrogated, “Did you statementize him?” Some shortcut. Not all “ize” words are bad, either, but they do have the ring of the vulgate to them - “he was brutalized by his father,” “she finalized her report.” Just try to use them rarely.
Adding “ly” to “ing” words has a little history to it. Remember the old Tom Swifties? “I hate that incision,” the surgeon said cuttingly. “I got first prize!” the boy said winningly. But the point to a good Tom Swiftie is to make a punchline out of the last adverb. If you do that in your book, the reader is unnecessarily distracted. Serious writing suffers from such antics.
Some “ingly” words do have their place. I can accept “swimmingly,” “annoyingly,” “surprisingly” as descriptive if overlong “ingly” words. But not “startlingly,” “harrowingly” or “angeringly,” “careeningly” - all hell to pronounce, even in silence, like the “groundbreakingly” used by People magazine above. Try to use all “ingly” words (can’t help it) sparingly.
6. THE “TO BE” WORDSOnce your eye is attuned to the frequent use of the “to be” words - “am,” “is,” “are,” “was,” “were,” “be,” “being,” “been” and others - you’ll be appalled at how quickly they flatten prose and slow your pace to a crawl.
The “to be” words represent the existence of things - “I am here. You are there.” Think of Hamlet’s query, “to be, or not to be.” To exist is not to act, so the “to be” words pretty much just there sit on the page. “I am the maid.” “It was cold.” “You were away.”
I blame mystery writers for turning the “to be” words into a trend: Look how much burden is placed on the word “was” in this sentence: “Around the corner, behind the stove, under the linoleum, was the gun.” All the suspense of finding the gun dissipates. The “to be” word is not fair to the gun, which gets lost in a sea of prepositions.
Sometimes, “to be” words do earn a place in writing: “In a frenzy by now, he pushed the stove away from the wall and ripped up the linoleum. Cold metal glinted from under the floorboards. He peered closer. Sure enough, it was the gun.” Okay, I’m lousy at this, but you get the point: Don’t squander the “to be” words - save them for special moments.
Not so long ago, “it was” *defined* emphasis. Even now, if you want to say, “It was Margaret who found the gun,” meaning nobody else but Margaret, fine. But watch out - “it was” can be habitual: “It was Jack who joined the Million Man March. It was Bob who said he would go, too. But it was Bill who went with them.” Flat, flat, flat.
Try also to reserve the use of “there was” or “there is” for special occasions. If used too often, this crutch also bogs down sentence after sentence. “He couldn’t believe there was furniture in the room. There was an open dresser drawer. There was a sock on the bed. There was a stack of laundry in the corner. There was a handkerchief on the floor….” By this time, we’re dozing off, and you haven’t even gotten to the kitchen.
One finds the dreaded “there was/is” in jacket copy all the time. “Smith’s book offers a range of lively characters: There is Jim, the puzzle-loving dad. There is Winky, the mom who sits on the 9th Court of Appeals. There is Barbie, brain surgeon to the stars….”
Attune your eye to the “to be” words and you’ll see them everywhere. When in doubt, replace them with active, vivid, engaging verbs. Muscle up that prose.
7. LISTS“She was entranced by the roses, hyacinths, impatiens, mums, carnations, pansies, irises, peonies, hollyhocks, daylillies, morning glories, larkspur…” Well, she may be entranced, but our eyes are glazing over.
If you’re going to describe a number of items, jack up the visuals. Lay out the the scene as the eye sees it, with emphasis and emotion in unlikely places. When you list the items as though we’re checking them off with a clipboard, the internal eye will shut.
It doesn’t matter what you list - nouns, adjectives, verbs - the result is always static. “He drove, he sighed, he swallowed, he yawned in impatience.” So do we. Dunk the whole thing. Rethink and rewrite. If you’ve got many ingredients and we aren’t transported, you’ve got a list.
8. SHOW, DON’T TELLIf you say, “she was stunning and powerful,” you’re *telling* us. But if you say, “I was stunned by her elegant carriage as she strode past the jury - shoulders erect, elbows back, her eyes wide and watchful,” you’re *showing* us. The moment we can visualize the picture you’re trying to paint, you’re showing us, not telling us what we *should* see..
Handsome, attractive, momentous, embarrassing, fabulous, powerful, hilarious, stupid, fascinating are all words that “tell” us in an arbitrary way what to think. They don’t reveal, don’t open up, don’t describe in specifics what is unique to the person or event described. Often they begin with cliches.
Here is Gail Sheehy’s depiction of a former “surfer girl” from the New Jersey shore in Middletown, America:
“This was a tall blond tomboy who grew up with all guy friends. A natural beauty who still had age on her side, being thirty; she didn’t give a thought to taming her flyaway hair or painting makeup on her smooth Swedish skin.”
Here I *think* I know what Sheehy means, but I’m not sure. Don’t let the reader make such assumptions. You’re the author; it’s your charge to show us what you mean with authentic detail. Don’t pretend the job is accomplished by cliches such as “smooth Swedish skin,” “flyaway hair,” “tall blond tomboy,” “the surfer girl” - how smooth? how tall? how blond?
Or try this from Faye Kellerman in Street Dreams:
“[Louise's] features were regular, and once she had been pretty. Now she was handsome in her black skirt, suit, and crisp, white blouse.”
Well, that’s it for Louise, poor thing. Can you see the character in front of you? A previous sentence tells us that Louise has “blunt-cut hair” framing an “oval face,” which helps, but not much - millions of women have a face like that. What makes Louise distinctive? Again, we may think we know what Kellerman means by “pretty” and “handsome” (good luck), but the inexcusable word here is “regular,” as in “her features were regular.” What *are* “regular” features?
The difference between telling and showing usually boils down to the physical senses. Visual, aural aromatic words take us out of our skin and place us in the scene you’ve created. In conventional narrative it’s fine to use a “to be” word to talk us into the distinctive word, such as “wandered” in this brief, easily imagined sentence by John Steinbeck in East of Eden. “His eyes were very blue, and when he was tired, one of them wandered outward a little.” We don’t care if he is “handsome” or “regular.”
Granted, context is everything, as writing experts say, and certainly that’s true of the sweltering West African heat in Graham Greene’s The Heart of the Matter: “Her face had the ivory tinge of atabrine; her hair which had once been the color of bottled honey was dark and stringy with sweat.” Except for “atabrine” (a medicine for malaria), the words aren’t all that distinctive, but they quietly do the job - they don’t tell us; they show us.
Commercial novels sometimes abound with the most revealing examples of this problem. The boss in Linda Lael Miller’s Don’t Look Now is “drop-dead gorgeous”; a former boyfriend is “seriously fine to look at: 35, half Irish and half Hispanic, his hair almost black, his eyes brown.” A friend, Betsy, is “a gorgeous, leggy blonde, thin as a model.” Careful of that word “gorgeous” - used too many times, it might lose its meaning.
9. AWKWARD PHRASING“Mrs. Fletcher’s face pinkened slightly.” Whoa. This is an author trying too hard. “I sat down and ran a finger up the bottom of his foot, and he startled so dramatically …. ” Egad, “he startled”? You mean “he started”?
Awkward phrasing makes the reader stop in the midst of reading and ponder the meaning of a word or phrase. This you never want as an author. A rule of thumb - always give your work a little percolatin’ time before you come back to it. Never write right up to deadline. Return to it with fresh eyes. You’ll spot those overworked tangles of prose and know exactly how to fix them.
10. COMMASCompound sentences, most modifying clauses and many phrases *require* commas. You may find it necessary to break the rules from time to time, but you can’t delete commas just because you don’t like the pause they bring to a sentence or just because you want to add tension.
“Bob ran up the stairs and looking down he realized his shoelace was untied but he couldn’t stop because they were after him so he decided to get to the roof where he’d retie it.” This is what happens when an author believes that omitting commas can make the narrative sound breathless and racy. Instead it sounds the reverse - it’s heavy and garbled.
The Graham Greene quote above is dying for commas, which I’ll insert here: “Her face had the ivory tinge of atabrine; her hair, which had once been the color of bottled honey, was dark and stringy with sweat.” This makes the sentence accessible to the reader, an image one needs to slow down and absorb.
Entire books have been written about punctuation. Get one. “The Chicago Manual of Style” shows why punctuation is necessary in specific instances. If you don’t know what the rules are for, your writing will show it.
The point to the List above is that even the best writers make these mistakes, but you can’t afford to. The way manuscripts are thrown into the Rejection pile on the basis of early mistakes is a crime. Don’t be a victim.
Pat Holt began her publishing career in the New York office of Houghton Mifflin Company in 1969 and was later promoted to the Boston office, where she was named publicity manager. In the mid-1970s she was senior editor and publicity director for the San Francisco Book Company, and in 1978 she became Publishers Weekly's first full-time Western Correspondent, where her territory ranged from the Rockies to Australia and Mexico to Alaska.She was book editor and critic at The San Francisco Chronicle for 16 years (1982-1998) and was named a board member of The Center for the Book at the Library of Congress in 1984. Increasingly concerned about the plight of independent bookstores in their struggle to survive wave after wave of chain bookstores, price clubs, discounters and Internet suppliers, Pat Holt resigned from The Chronicle in 1998 to create "Holt Uncensored," an email book column launched by the Northern California Independent Booksellers Association. Now published from the Holt Uncensored website, the column is available free for online subscribers. Ms. Holt is a founder of the Bay Area Book Reviewers Association, where she originated the idea for an annual BABRA Awards presentation to Northern California authors and publishers (now in its 15th year). In 1990 she became the first nonlibrarian in 40 years to receive the American Library Association's prestigious Grolier Foundation Award. Elected to the board of directors of the National Book Critics Circle in 1991, she became Vice President in charge of membership in 1992-96.Patricia Holt is the author of a biography of San Francisco private detective Hal Lipset called "The Bug in the Martini Olive," published in 1991 by Little, Brown and reprinted in 1994 as "The Good Detective" by Pocket Books.
Today, we have
Beth Fleisher from the
Barry Goldblatt Literary Agency joining us on the blog! Beth is delightful and insightful, so without further ado…
Why agenting? A lifelong dream, or something that happened serendipitously?
This happened with planning and forethought. I wanted to be an editor since I was twelve, and read about an editor’s role in the introduction to a short story in an Isaac Asimov anthology. So of course when I went to college (Boston University, for the sailing team) I majored in Economics and English. The Powers That Be thought it would be better for me to focus on banking and finance. I complied, but committed to a dual major so I could keep up with my love of literature and writing. After one hideous internship in the overnight money department at a major international bank, I gave up economics and threw myself into publishing.
I did a series of internships while in college (Art New England Magazine, Northeastern University Press, Houghton Mifflin trade division) and picked up solid production skills as well as familiarity with all aspects of editorial work. I came back down to New York to interview for jobs as an editorial assistant. With my two year’s of experience, I was a perfect fit — except I couldn’t type fast enough!
I fell back on my production skills, and got a great job at The Berkley Publishing Group (part of Putnam, now part of Penguin USA). I was working on three lines of books, including Ace Science Fiction. After less than a year my boss quit to travel the world. I got her job, and then was able to make the transfer to acquisitions editor at Ace about two years after I started at Berkley. This effectively put me way ahead of my cohort who had started as editorial assistants. So I guess not typing well paid off in the long run!
I worked in house for about ten years. I loved it, especially working with authors to develop their talent. An editor’s job is challenging but quite fun: Working with authors to develop their voice, strengthen their story-telling, and then turning around and working with the business side of things to sell that author’s book as best as possible.
I left working in house to pursue some other goals (graduate school in Medieval history, my own writing, travel, having a family). After all, I had been working non-stop since my junior year in university! I also consulted on a number of publishing projects, and became very involved with comics and graphic novels, especially graphic novels published in Europe. My children are now in sixth grade, and I realized that I had time to get back to my career full time. I thought long and hard about how I wanted to proceed. After all, we don’t get too many opportunities to reposition ourselves!
I thought about going back, and working in-house as an editor. However, for me, there were some issues with that. I want to work with a diverse list of books and authors, and be able to position each author as best as possible, for their individual work. I realized that working in house, with one publisher, wouldn’t present me with that opportunity.
Agenting allows me this freedom: To work with a variety of authors, and be able to draw from a diverse group of publishers, to position my people as best as possible in this competitive world. When the opportunity presented itself to work with Barry Goldblatt, I jumped on it. (Just ask Barry!) He has a superb reputation, and has himself developed a wonderful client list. It’s a pleasure to join such a firm.
And I love negotiating. Brings out the competitor in me. Must be from all my years sailboat racing…
What would you like to see more of as an agent? As a reader?As both a reader and an agent (it’s the same thing, really – you have to represent books you are passionate about) I am looking for forward-thinking writers with a strong individual voice. A writer must not write to a perceived marketing trend (dare I say vampire novels?). What perhaps the novice writer doesn’t know is that it is so very very apparent when an author is not fully engaged with their work — when they are writing for a market. The writing rings false, and that translates to a very dissatisfying read.
Prospective professional writers must keep in mind that if an agent takes on a manuscript today, unless it is a highly unusual circumstance that book won’t see print for a minimum of two years. Add in the time to actually write the thing, and if you’re writing to market, that bus has already left.
So, my words of advice: Only write what you love. Think forward: a new creative voice, not a re-telling of a previous bestseller. And on of my pet peeves: Take the time and effort to fully render the setting of your story. It strikes me as very amateurish when the writer develops plot and characters, but not setting. Setting is a character in the best of books (think everything from Wuthering Heights to Robert B. Parker’s Spenser novels, to Harry Potter). Take the time to make your book the best book possible. A good book lasts forever.
What's the most common mistake you see authors making in their queries? Not writing a business letter. I don’t want self-aggrandizing statements. (This book is the next bestseller!). All I need is a brief paragraph outlining the plot and characters, and five pages so I can see if you can write. Please only include biographical information that is relevant to the content and sale of the book. And take into account what I’m looking for. It’s just a waste of time to send me material that I do not take on.
What’s the one thing an author can do to catch your eye? How can authors get agents to look beyond the query letter?As above: A query letter that is professionally written, short and sweet. And then, unfortunately, there is no secret. What will sell your book is five pages brilliantly written, so that I will ask for more. And that those five pages are followed by a dynamite manuscript.
Over the years I have seen my share of foolishness: In the old days back at Ace, someone sent in a beautiful handmade, velvet lined wood box. The manuscript was awful, so no, the box didn’t help. It did make us think that the author was, shall we say, trying too hard. The same with red envelopes, or whatever one can come up with for an e-submission. I am committed to reading EVERYTHING, and I will. However, publishing is a business, and I want to see a modicum of understanding of that from the prospective author.
What is projected to be the next big thing in publishing? What trend do you see dying?No comment. Why? Because authors should WRITE WHAT THEY LOVE, NOT WRITE TO MARKET. See above. And by the way, Vampire books were dead in the water, until a certain author hit the scene.
Do you often choose to represent works that only you would personally read and enjoy or do you aim to represent works that you know will sell, even if you don't like them?I must feel strongly about a book — and also about an author. The author and I must “click.” I have to know that the author is committed to a career, and will be professional in his or her dealings with me, and their publisher. I will not commit to an author just on their manuscript. I need to talk with them, suss them out, make sure that we’re a good fit. That said, I have widely eclectic tastes, and see a value in many different types of books and styles of writing, from frothy fun books for middle readers like the Captain Underpants series to adult non-fiction, and just about everything in between.
With the economic slow down as it is, are you signing fewer new clients and focusing on the ones you already have?No. I am a huge believer that good books will always sell. I would be crazy to pass up a book I love and an author I want to represent because of the economy. Publishing is a long-term business. The manuscripts I’m reading now won’t be out for two years. I can’t predict where our economy will be then. Even if things are slow, good books sell even in a bad economic climate.
Do you ever get a chance to read for fun? What book do you not represent that you wish you did?I read for fun all the time. It would be pretty silly to be in this business and not enjoy reading! And I have to say, as I’m building my list of clients, there is no book that I regret not representing. I’m looking at a very exciting future.
If you could offer one piece of advice to aspiring authors everywhere, what would it be?Write a book that you’re passionate about.
And now, just for fun, I'll hit you with the Fast Five: Coffee or tea? Coffee, rich and dark, with cream. Preferably that great cream one gets anywhere in Europe, full of flavor.
Courier or Times New Roman? Times New Roman.
Cruise or Self-Guided Tour? Self-guided tour. More opportunity for unforeseen adventure.
3 chapters or 50 pages? Three chapters. I hate incomplete thoughts, which is what an uncompleted chapter is.
Guilty pleasure? Spa pedicures and sail boat racing.
Thank you, Beth, for taking the time to answer some questions! Check out Beth's genres and
QT profile here.
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