When your agent wants to charge you a fee

Every so often I hear an icky agent story and know you guys need to be warned.

There are two kinds of lousy agents. The first is the scammer, the kind who wants to get money from authors without in any way performing the services an actual agent ought to perform. When you know the basics about the business, you'll recognize those. They ask you for money just to read your manuscript and refer you for "necessary" editing services to their friends, many of whom are actually themselves operating under a different business name.

The second kind of lousy agent is just...slippery. That agent is harder to recognize from the outside. While you know to run from agents who charge reading fees, for example, what do you do about one who brings up "administrative charges" after the contract is signed?

Today a writer sent me a copy of an email his agent had sent him. This agent is a legit agent at a legit agency. It's just that....well, you'll see.

The agent sent the writer an email about changes to their literary agency agreement, with the expectation that the writer would sign it and be thrilled. (Note: I've removed all references to The agency and rephrased in order to clarify in parts. The content is the same, and I verified on the agency's website.)

In the current contract, the only charges are for any extraoridinary expenses that may occur (courier services, foreign exchange, etc.), $250.00 per year, and a $500.00 cancellation fee should the author wish to terminate the contract.

Please note: don't sign a contract with that stipulation. Why should the author be charged a fee to break the contract? There's no matching fee for the agent if the agent decides to fire the writer, after all. Usually an agented writer is pleased to stay onboard. When the writer wants to leave, often it's because the writer has issues with the way the agent is representing the manuscript. By charging this ridiculous contract-breaking fee, the agent has stated that s/he would rather have a bitter, angry client than just part ways amicably.

Right from the start, this stipulation sets up the agent/writer relationshp as an adversarial relationship, one in which the writer is the child who must be punished if there's a disagreement with the agency.

(Industry standard is for both parties to have the right to leave with thirty days written notice, and the agent would be the agent of record on any sales resulting from pitches already made as long as they occur in a certain timeframe. Most agents are glad to have a pissy writer slam the door OR they're willing to work hard to come to an understanding with an earnest but unsettled writer. Remember, agents are negotiators. If they can't negotiate with their own clients, they're missing an important job skill.)

Then we get to the fun part, where the agency describes their new contract, introducing an administrative fee structure:

The first year we represent a manuscript we charge five hundred dollars ($500.00), then an additional two hundred fifty dollars ($250.00) each year until we place it with a publisher. Upon securing a publishing contract, the agency receives 15% of net revenues. 

On their website, they try to sweeten the deal: they explain that this fee helps them partner with writers who are serious and willing to invest in their careers. 

No, folks. This is not normal. You don't have to prove to an agent that you're serious and willing to invest in your writing. As Gavin DeBecker says in The Gift of Fear, statements like that are designed to get the target to act against his or her own self interest in order to prove s/he isn't whatever the speaker is accusing them of being. 

So let's step back and be serious, as the agent wants us to be. This agent seriously wants you to fork over five hundred bucks before even starting the job, and that $500 won't come out of the advance when the book sells. Then, if the agent fails to sell your book in one year, the agent gets rewarded with an additional $250.

In what reality does this make any sense for the writer? After taking your five hundred dollars, why would the agent work hard to sell your manuscript? Agents should get paid by commission. If they don't sell, they don't get paid.

Agents do not get to charge you $500 to make them do their job, then collect commission if they do it correctly, then collect an additonal $250 if they don't do it correctly, and then shake you down for a final $500 when you decide to leave because they didn't sell your book.

If anything, most writers stay with a bad agent far too long because they don't want to be out there on their own again. They stay because they feel like this is their book's only hope. I'm afraid a lot of authors will sign this amended agreement because they think no one else will want them, or because they want to prove their seriousness. But this is not normal.

Run away. Fly like the wind.

I understand that an agency with insufficient cash flow might want to tap additional sources of revenue. But you, you dear writer, should make sure you are not the source of this revenue.

Also, keep in mind that as soon as an agent starts charging this fee, all the agent's good writers will find a way to get out of the contract as soon as possible (not signing the new one, for example) and who will be left with that agency? Only the writers who don't know the industry and don't have a lot of experience or contacts. How long will an agency survive when all its experienced writers leave?

I have nothing against agents making money. I hope your future agent makes lots of money! May you be the occasion of your agent receiving truckloads of revenue, but only because they're getting their 15% after you've gotten your 85%.

Jane Lebak is the author of Honest And For True. She has four kids, eleven books in print, three cats, and one husband. She lives in the Swamp and tries to do one scary thing every day. You can like her on Facebook, or visit her at her website..

Taking Care Of Business: Your rights

I've got a contract in front of me for magazine filler material. They want to publish it this September, and they'll pay me $15. In exchange, they want my signature on a piece of paper.

This is what the piece of paper says:

"I hereby grant to MAGAZINE NAME REDACTED and to its legal representatives, successors and assigns, a world-wide, perpetual, non-revocable, sub-licensable and transferrable right to do and to authorize the following, in all languages and in all formats, configurations, means and media now existing or hereafter devised, discovered or devloped (including, without limitation, physical copies, digital media, electronic transmission, "new technologies" and portable electronic devices): 1) to prepare derivative works based on the work…"

Wait, wait, wait. WHAT?

Don't let your head swim. When you get a contract from a publisher or a literary agent, you need to know what you're signing. So look at the above.

The magazine is, as best I can understand, only published in English. So why do they want rights in every language? The magazine is online, sure, so I guess I can see worldwide rights. But irrevocable? And sublicensable? And they want the rights to any derivative works they may be able to create based on my piece?

And they want to pay fifteen dollars for all that?

I'm not saying you shouldn't sign this contract. But you need to know what you're doing.

If this were, say, The New Yorker, I might sign it because I'd want to be able to say I'd been published in The New Yorker. But it's not. There's a 99% chance you've never heard of this magazine, so no prestige and exposure from this publication.

If they were offering me a thousand dollars for worldwide perpetual rights in every language and in every technology that may ever be invented, I think I'd take that too. But not for fifteen bucks.

Looking further into the contract, they're further specifying all this is for the life of the copyright, which means the writer will not outlive this contract. Even if they go bankrupt, the writer has given them permission to sell all these rights to someone else.

The contract also looks a little deceptive to me because there are places where it discusses ending the agreement on the date specified, but they don't specify a date. And another paragraph says these rights are exclusive to their magazine for one year -- but that only means you can sell non-exclusive rights to this work afterward, not that the contract terminates.

Here's the takeaway: when you get an agreement from a publisher or an agent, read it. Really read it. Make sure they're only asking for rights you're willing to sell, rights they plan to use. I would suggest looking for words like "irrevocable" and "perpetual" and really scrutinizing who benefits if you can't terminate the agreement.

Don't sign anything that doesn't specify how you can get out of it.

Don't sign anything you don't understand. Ask questions. Ask more questions if you don't understand the answers, and if you don't understand those answers, then maybe wonder if someone doesn't want you confused. And who benefits if you sign an agreement you don't understand?

If there's something you don't agree to in that agreement, don't sign it. Negotiate a change (agents are in the business of negotiation, remember, so if an agent hands you this agreement, negotiate it) and be willing to walk away. But don't tell yourself, "Oh, that will never come up," because it's pretty much a guarantee that the one thing you don't want to come up in a contract will definitely do so, and at the worst possible time.

In this case, I wrote to the magazine and withdrew my submission due to their contract terms. The editor wrote back and assured me these were the industry standard. (They're not.) I replied with a couple of parallel contract paragraphs I had agreed to sign (because they were fair and reasonable) and added that my agent also had issues with their contract. The editor never replied.

My takeaway? Know your rights and sign them away only for what they're worth. And if you'll pardon me, this contract has an important appointment with my shredder. Wouldn't want to keep it waiting.

Understanding Your Contract

Dear Querytracker Blog,

I recently accepted an offer from my dream agent, but I’m curious about something in my contract. What does “and any subsequent work in a series or derivation therefrom” mean?

Sincerely,

Totally Clueless

Dear Clueless,

First, congratulations on this new step in your writing career. I wish you all the best.

Not every agent includes this clause (or a similar clause) in their agency contract. What it means is that if a publisher offers you a contract for two books (for example) in a series, and you later write one or more additional books for the series, your agent also represents those books. Now, this might sound like a given if you and your agent live happily-ever-after, together, but what happens if you and your agent “divorce”? If your contract has this clause in it, it doesn’t matter if you’re still together or not, it doesn’t matter if he had nothing to do with the sale (because you and your editor agreed to the book after you separated from your agent), he is involved in the series and therefore will get the agreed upon royalty (usually 15%).

Unfortunately, when we sign with an agent, we’re so excited to finally get to this point, we don’t realize the ramifications of what we’re signing. We assume we’re going to be together forever and ever. Or, we don’t necessarily understand the legal jargon. This is the same issue that often arises with publisher contracts. Before you sign a contract, make sure you know what you’re signing and the ramifications it might have on your career. You don’t want to find out too late that the small press (for example) you signed with now has rights to all your books (or at least first right to refusal). There are often ways around these clauses, but it’s tricky, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.

If you don’t understand something, contact a lawyer (an entertainment or literacy lawyer) or asked one of your author friends who does understand what it means. It will save you grief down the road. And when in doubt, don’t sign the contract. Remember, this is YOUR career we’re talking about.

Stina Lindenblatt @StinaLL writes New Adult novels. In her spare time, she’s a photographer and can be found at her blog/website.  She is represented by Marisa Corvisiero, and finds it weird talking about herself in third person. Her debut New Adult contemporary romance TELL ME WHEN (Carina Press, HQN) is now available. LET ME KNOW (Carina Press) will be available Sept 1st, 2014.

Do I Need a Literary Agent?

I’ve gotten several questions via email recently asking me about how to go about finding good literary agents, so I’m working on a series of posts about figuring out if you need an agent, whether you’re ready to start querying, finding a reputable agent, and choosing someone who really “gets” your work. Of course, QueryTracker.net will help you through all of the stages I’m going to discuss, and fellow QT blogger Jane Lebak recently wrote a great post on How to Use the QueryTracker Site.

Base image: DragonTash

Do I Need a Literary Agent?

Though the role of literary agents is changing, there are at least a couple of reasons you may want one. First, they are well-connected in publishing, which means they may be able to open doors you can’t open yourself. Second, they are experts on the publishing business, including negotiating contracts.

Literary agents have traditionally been the gatekeepers between the writer and publishers. There are an awful lot of people who would like to get published, which can leave publishing houses inundated.  For this reason, the biggest publishers closed their doors to unsolicited materials. Literary agents provide a screening process, weeding out all but the very best of the material that is submitted to them.

Statistics vary, but most agents say they reject between 95% and 99% of what crosses their desks. (If you’re interested in a particular agent’s statistics, QueryTracker provides detailed information on how often each agent in the database responds positively—with a request for more material, for example—vs. negatively, as is the case with a rejection.)

Agents develop relationships with publisher editors who are interested in the types of material that agent represents. So when Agent X approaches Publisher Y to say that the editor should take a look at Writer A’s manuscript, the editor is open to learning more.

As publishing experts, agents know the market well. They know what is selling, to whom, and why. They may know about markets you’ve never heard of, and they know how much editors are paying for particular types of manuscripts. They can also negotiate contracts (which include when, how, and how much the writer will be paid) and can act as a go-between with the writer and the publisher, especially if something goes wrong or the writer needs some help. [Edit: A reader notes that agents can also help negotiate foreign rights and film rights.] Usually they can negotiate better contract terms for you, both by knowing what they want removed from publishing contracts and by knowing what should be added or changed. You pay for this service by giving your agent a percentage of everything you earn (usually 15% - 20%), but particularly if the agent negotiates better terms than you could negotiate yourself, their work may proverbially pay for itself. It is in a reputable agent’s interest for you to make as much money as possible, because that's the only way they get paid!

Some agents represent a book or a series of books only; other agents represent the author. Many writers prefer to work with the latter type, as these relationships tend to be longer-term and often  include help with their writerly career—improving manuscripts, trying out new ideas, and so on.

So when would you not use an agent? If you are self-publishing, you probably won't use an agent. Also, some writers decide (even if they have worked with an agent or agents in the past) that they are happier or more comfortable going it alone.  They prefer to approach small publishers directly and are comfortable negotiating their own contracts (or hiring an attorney familiar with literary contracts just to review a proposed contract).

Because good agents are picky about who and what they represent, some authors get so focused on finding an agent that they forget that not all agents are equal. First, not all “literary agents” are legitimate or reputable. Second, all of us get along better with some people than others. It’s important to find someone who “gets” you and your work. I’ll be exploring these issues in upcoming posts.

Carolyn Kaufman, PsyD's book, THE WRITER'S GUIDE TO PSYCHOLOGY: How to Write Accurately About Psychological Disorders, Clinical Treatment, and Human Behavior helps writers avoid common misconceptions and inaccuracies and "get the psych right" in their stories. You can learn more about The Writer's Guide to Psychology, check out Dr. K's blog on Psychology Today, or follow her on Facebook! 

Know Your Best Alternative

"Have you ever heard of BATNA?" said my Patient Husband.

I had no idea what kind of acronym this was, since it seems every aspect of my life has its own shorthand. It turns out this is a management and negotiating term: the Best Alternative To A Negotiated Agreement. It also turns out everyone needs to have one.

Let's back up a bit. You're querying a manuscript and an Agent, Annie Awesome, calls to offer representation. You hit it off on the phone, and she sends you her agency contract. But in that contract, you find something you don't feel comfortable with. What do you do?

It's not time to panic. It's not a question of either signing over your soul or losing your publishing dreams. Instead, it's a question of negotiating.

Business negotiation has taken on something of a pejorative meaning lately, the idea that each party seeks to protect its interests while feasting on the hearts of their business associates. That's not going to be true in an agent-client relationship, nor in an editor-author relationship. 

Instead let's reframe the idea of negotiation: you and Agent Annie Awesome both want the same things, and in the long run, neither of you benefits if either one of you is contractually abused. What you're working out are the details.

It's true that every so often you'll hear a horror story about an agent who dropped her brand-new client because the client asked a few questions. I think the real truth in those cases is that the agent is a lousy agent, and I say that because agenting is all about negotiating. Questions are part of negotiation.

If an agent cannot negotiate, she is not a good agent. If an agent cannot negotiate with you when she wants you to become her client, then how is she going to negotiate with potential editors? 

So when you find a problem with the contract offered to you by an agent or an editor, steel yourself to negotiate. It's fine. Agents are good at negotiating. But first, figure out your BATNA.

The "best alternative to a negotiated agreement" is what you're going to do if you and the other party do not enter into an agreement at all. 

It's your Plan B, to some extent, although it's more sophisticated than that. In the case of Agent Annie Awesome, your BATNA might be to continue querying other agents, since now you know you can attract an agent's attention. Your BATNA may be to self-publish your manuscript or to market it to editors yourself. Figure out what that is, its benefits and drawbacks.

And here's the key: when you negotiate, you should never settle for anything less than your BATNA. There's no reason to. If you can achieve a specific good without the other party, then you don't need to pair with them in order to achieve less.

Obviously your BATNA is stronger if you also have an offer from Agent Spencer Spectacular, but the object isn't to pit one agency against the other. The object is to reach an agreement both you and your future agent can live with.

The other thing you need to do is figure out the other party's BATNA. Agent Annie Awesome's BATNA is in all likelihood to let you go and sign a different client. But remember that she loved your manuscript enough to want to be a part of its future. Also, she believes she can make money off your manuscript. Therefore she's got some incentive to use her skills as a negotiator to solve any problems you have with the contract.

I know sometimes writers are a little socially awkard (and I'm their poster child), but reassure yourself: this is not adversarial. 

Explain the aspect of the contract you take issue with. Explain your reservations. Ask for the change you want to the contract, keeping in mind that the agent or editor is going to have specific needs as well. Doing this will help you solve your problem with the contract in such a way that it doesn't create a problem for the other party.

Negotiating should be about meeting both parties' needs in such a way that both are satisfied with the outcome. Many agency and publisher contracts, for example, have a paragraph in which the author indemnifies the agency or publisher against actions committed by the author. That's fine. They seldom contain a reverse paragraph, in which the agency or publisher indemnifies the author. I've asked in each of my contracts for mutual indemnification, and every time, the other party has agreed this is perfectly fair.

Keep in mind that if there's one paragraph in your contract where you read and hope it will never come to bear -- it's going to. 

The key here is not to settle for less than your BATNA. If your BATNA is to continue querying, then don't reluctantly lock yourself into a five-year contract with an agency. If your BATNA is to self-publish, don't sign with a small press that withholds royalties until their operating expenses have been recouped. Know your BATNA, and keep that in mind before you sign.



(For more about BATNA and negotiation, check out Fisher and Ury's book Getting to YES. As an added bonus, my Patient Husband tells me that from the spine side, it looks like Getting TOYS.)

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Jane Lebak is the author of The Wrong Enemy. She has four kids, three cats, two books in print, and one husband. She lives in the Swamp and spends her time either writing books or brokering peace between warring children. At Seven Angels, Four Kids, One Family, she blogs about what happens when a distracted daydreamer and a gamer geek attempt to raise four kids. If you want to make her rich and famous, please come up with your BATNA and negotiate with the riveting Roseanne Wells of the Jennifer DeChiara Literary Agency. 

Publishing Pulse 8/10/2012

Agent Kristin Nelson discusses going through 68 queries in 60 minutes.

Author Mette Ivie Harrison has two excellent articles. The first discusses 21 different types of plot shapes for different types of stories. The second is a short checklist of things to think about when creating a magic system.

On Writing on the Ether, Porter Anderson has a great round up of links dealing with rewriting, bestsellers, and more on the DOJ statement.

Author/editor Kristine Rusch has been running a series on what she considers deal breakers in contracts (scroll down to the very bottom of the post for these) and her latest deals with the importance of understanding what you're signing in both publishing and agency contracts with respect to agency clauses.

The publishing industry tends towards a more sedentary lifestyle, and author Christina Katz has started a Facebook group to help change that. Check out Writers on the Move where you can both share and inspire others when it comes to getting exercise. (via Galleycat)

The Atlantic posits the question: Why do female authors dominate young adult fiction?

Finally, if you use an e-reader, there's a good chance that your e-book is reading you. The Wall Street Journal discusses the various ways e-book distributors can track what you're reading, how fast you're reading, and how far you get before you stop reading.

Have a great week end!

Danyelle Leafty| @danyelleleafty writes YA and MG fantasy. She is the author of The Fairy Godmother Dilemma series (Catspell, Firespell, Applespell, and Frogspell), and Slippers of Pearl, and can be found on her blog. She can also be found on Wattpad.

The Business-Minded Writer: When the Hobby Becomes the Job

"Talent is cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work." -- Stephen King

Work. Uck. Such a strenuous word. It draws up images of toil and labor and exertion, more often than not for a pittance far below that what we deem to be our worth. Who knows that better than a writer?

Writers write because it's what we love to do. For some, it means a job and a pretty income. For others, it's a hobby and a pleasure. But the one thing both kinds of writers have in common is that, whether hobby or career, we tend to call our poems and stories and books by the same name: our work.

Uck. That word again.

My first published piece was a poem that appeared nearly three years ago. "Note to Self:" was published in the March 2009 issue of Poe Little Thing, an e-zine. When I first started selling my poetry, I was happy to simply be published--getting that acceptance from a publication, hearing that "yes" was the real rush. It inspired me to keep writing, keep submitting, keep getting my stuff out there in search for another acceptance.

I am proud to say that since that first acceptance, I've had nearly a hundred more. While I still love that "yes" rush more than anything else, I have to admit I've become a bit more grounded.

More businesslike, I shudder to say. Terrible thing for me to admit, considering I began writing to get away from the rigors of my day-job. Writing was supposed to be my hobby. When did it become work?

The answer: it became a job the very first time I submitted something to an editor.

Who knew? Not me. I was a hobby writer who, like most writers, decided my stuff was too cool to keep to myself. Since I gravitate toward the shady side of the written word (dark spec fic, mainly) I was limited as to how much love I could expect from my mom, who is more of a feel-good kinda gal. I sought a wider audience, those readers who appreciated shadows and sinister grins and cheerful depression as much as I.

Another note to self: what you might think is "sharing" is actually "marketing" and, therefore, work.

Over the past few years, I'd gradually shifted my self-perception from "hobby writer" to "freelance author." I like the term "freelance" because it doesn't just pertain to business or copy writers--it refers to any creative writer (fiction and literary writers included) who aren't bound by exclusive contracts or the limitations of employment. Hey. If writing is work, I want a real title to go with it.

I've also increased my awareness of the business side of writing with particular emphasis on the rights involved with selling my non-novel length work. While my search criteria when shopping literary markets still relies heavily on how much I like the title of a publication (seriously. I mean, if a potential sale is going to be listed in my bio, I want to love the sound of the journal's name, too) I have begun to shrewdly evaluate the rights that would be transferred in the event of a sale.

As a freelance writer of poetry and short fiction, I've got to know what I'm selling so knowing these rights are extremely important. While I publish primarily for the satisfaction, I want to know what rights I'm giving away when I "give away" my work.

There are several excellent online references that describe the different rights. At the end of the article, I'll include links to those websites that I keep bookmarked for easy reference. But for the rest of us who like instant gratification (and, honestly, who doesn't?) here is a brief summary of some of the rights you can sell when marketing your own work.

(And by the by, I'm not a lawyer and I'm the last one to ask for legal advice. Maybe some of our other Query Trackers are but I sure as heck didn't consult any of them before writing this article. Consider this an official disclaimer.)

First things first: the copyright. A writer owns the copyright to anything he (or she) writes. Period. Print it out, e-publish it, bingo. Copyright is expressed. Registration with the US Copyright Office simply entitles a writer to monetary damages in case of copyright infringement. (When I was a newbie novelist I read a few articles whose authors were of the opinion that a "poor man's copyright"--essentially, printing out your work, sealing it in an envelope, and mailing it back to yourself--was enough to protect your copyright. Not so. Filing with the Copyright Office is the only sure way to back up your claim in court.)

At any rate, along with inherent copyright comes a bunch of other, separate rights that a writer can sell, either in bulk or one by one. Knowing these terms will make it easier to evaluate what you are selling along with your masterpiece. Among others, the main types of rights that are negotiated when selling to the small markets are:

All rights--pretty much just what it says. It's the right to own your work. If you sign away all rights to a publisher, you can never use the same work again in its current form. The new owner of all rights to your work is free to reprint your material or to sell it elsewhere without paying any additional money to you. They aren't even obligated to give you a byline. These are the rights you don't want to sell unless you really have to do it.

First serial rights--These are the rights most commonly granted in a publishing contract. These rights grant the publisher of a serial publication the exclusive right to print an article first. After the work is published once, rights revert back to the writer, who is then free to resell the work. More specific terms like FSNAR (first serial North American rights) limit to a specific area--if you sell FSNAR you can still sell to a UK publication. Watch for terms like "worldwide" because it means, well, worldwide.

Exclusive rights-- The right to publish your work without it appearing somewhere else at the same time. Often publishers request exclusive rights for a specified length of time. When the exclusivity period ends, the writer is free to publish the work elsewhere. The flipside of this is non-exclusive rights.

Electronic rights-- If a publisher's contract includes electronic rights, a writer should know how long the publisher has permission to keep the work published on the web. Recent years have sparked an explosion in the number of online magazines and literary blogs so electronic rights are commonly contracted. Determine if the editor wants first electronic rights or all electronic rights. You must keep in mind that "electronic rights" doesn't just mean web publishing--it also means CD-ROMs, databases, etc.

Internet rights--Specific electronic rights to publish work on the Internet or via email (i.e. newsletter). Unlike electronic rights, Internet rights don't give an editor the right to reproduce your work on a CD-ROM or other physical electronic device.

Reprint rights-- This is the right to print a work a second time. Reprint rights imply that first rights have been sold. It's also called second serial rights.

Knowing these definitions have made it possible for me to determine which pieces I can legally market as reprints. Reprints are my new big thing--now it's no longer enough to have a poem published. I want to have it published in as many places as superhumanly possible. I want to spread my words around with the same vigor my kids use to destroy the house on a day off from school.

So far, it seems to be working out. That first poem "Note to Self:" was eventually picked up by the Cover of Darkness anthology.

Ooh. Anthology rights. Another shudder but, all things considered, it's a shudder of a good kind.

Some links I keep bookmarked:

The editor of Rampant Loon Press has a great section in his submission guidelines regarding rights purchased using software licensing terminology. Although these are the guidelines for a specific magazine, they illustrate the ongoing shift of publishing from print to electronic formats...and the shift of rights available for purchase along with it.

The American Society of Journalists and Authors has an excellent position paper from 2003 that is worth a careful look.

And because I know you are all dying to do some light reading, there's always the US Copyright Office's website.

Ash Krafton is a speculative fiction writer who resides in the heart of the Pennsylvania coal region, where she keeps the book jacket for "Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter" in a frame over her desk. Visit the Spec Fic Chick website at www.ashkrafton.com for updates on the release of her debut novel, Bleeding Hearts: Book One of the Demimonde, forthcoming in March 2012 through Pink Narcissus Press.

Publishing Pulse for June 3rd, 2011

New At QueryTracker:


Congratulations to QT success storyMichael Hagan!

Seven agent profiles have been updated in the last week with changes such as new email addresses, two agents closing to queries and one opening up to queries. Always check for the most recent information (both from QT and from the agent's website) before you query.

Publishing News:

Liberty Media is interested in purchasing Barnes And Noble. The LA-based Gores Group has expressed interest in buying half the remaining Borders Book stores. Meanwhile Amazon.com initiates "sunshine deals" to allow publishers to experiment with ebook pricing.

The Google Book Settlement appears to be dragging on longer than Jarndyce versus Jarndyce. The next hearing to discuss a draft of a settlement will take place on July 19th.

BEA's attendance figures were flat as compared to last year (although numbers rose with the inclusion of BlogWorld.)

Around the Blogosphere:

Author Jill Hathaway talks about self-doubt.

At The Passive Voice, a section you may want to include in your next publishing contract to prevent legal "Gotchas."

Via Janet Reid, seven tough questions for nonfiction writers (which you should ask yourself before writing your nonfiction proposal)

Also via Janet Reid, who gave a hat tip to Molly O'Neill:

http://www.demotivation.us/books-1247061.html

Literary Quote of the Week:

I know that journalism largely consists in saying "Lord Jones Dead" to people who never knew that Lord Jones was alive. -GK Chesterton

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Jane Lebak is the author of The Guardian (Thomas Nelson, 1994), Seven Archangels: Annihilation (Double-Edged Publishing, 2008) and The Boys Upstairs (MuseItUp, 2010). At Seven Angels, Four Kids, One Family, she blogs about what happens when a distracted daydreamer and a gamer geek attempt to raise four children. She is represented by the unsurpassed Roseanne Wells of the Marianne Strong Literary Agency.