Why Is It So Difficult To Get A Literary Agent?

Our agency recently had a bad experience with a writer. He posted a vicious blog after we turned down his work. (Apparently 316 other agents had rejected him and we were the straw that broke the camel’s back.) Luckily, it’s noteworthy when that kind of drama explodes.

But I’m not unsympathetic to his disappointment; finding an agent isn’t easy. Most of my friends are writers; I’ve spent many hours helping them craft a submission list and compose a query letter. I feel personally involved in their hunt! And I’m always surprised at how long it can take for a debut author to get his work read and then taken on — even while I realize intellectually, that when an agent passes, it’s not a judgment on your work. Here’s why:

*  When an agent is established and has a big list, she might decide that your book is too similar to others on her list. Or her father is dying. Or she’s had a baby. Or four of her clients have just submitted their work.

*  There is no objective reality in publishing. I can send out a manuscript to 28 editors, I’ll get rejects from 27 of them (each of whom will have a completely different response to the book) and it will become a bestseller.

*  Agents spend most of their time tending their clients; they’ve got to keep their lists small, otherwise they won’t get their work done.

*  Book agents and publishers are like venture capitalists. Agents are figuring out whether a project is worth an investment of their time. Publishers, of course, are weighing the possible upside to an investment they know is more likely to disappear.

*  When a literary agent reads your manuscript here is what he is thinking: Who can I send it to? Where will it be placed in Barnes and Noble (or what kind of metadata will be used)? Will this bring in money? Reviews? Can I visualize what needs to be done editorially to get it into shape? Is this in a category that I’ve been hoping to move into? Will this be fun to work on? But most of all, it’s: Do I have enough time to do a good job for this author?

* A Literary Agent always wants to fall in love. There is nothing in Bookland that is more enticing than a debut author: No bad sales figures! Endless potential! The drama of discovery! In other words, we want you to be our Cinderella; we want the slipper to fit; and when it does, we will commit with all our heart.

This is why an author can only spend twenty percent of her time looking for an agent. Getting a literary agent is like searching for a job. You’ve got to do it seriously and methodically, but the rest of your life needs to be spent writing the next book, and well, living your life.

Notes From a Practical Agent

There’s a dark shroud that occasionally unfurls to cloak a subdued conversation an author shares with me when his worries weigh heavily on him: “My publisher won’t want another book from me,” the author moans. “I’m out of ideas. I’m going to have to become a substitute teacher. I won’t be able to pay my rent. I will never, ever make it.”

These worries are not limited to new authors or writers with modest advances. As a literary fiction agent I find it’s more often an author with several books published, with contracts “in the bank,” with an audience of long-time readers. Yes, it’s more often these authors – who have enjoyed success – who panic. About halfway through the conversation, I say, “You’re catastrophizing again.”  And then I insist we examine each bit of evidence that has been presented to me: an editor who didn’t return their call, two negative Amazon book reviews, a (seemingly) curt e-mail from their publisher.

Time and again, what’s really happening is that a writer is stuck (but not in a writer’s block sort of way). Yes, a conversation is needed, but it’s not about readying his application for a job at Walmart. It’s about figuring out where the story begins…or what the book is really about…or changing the setting.

Writers catastrophize when they think they’re trapped. Stories aren’t “real,” but once you solve the problem of the story then the anxieties of paying the bills seems to evaporate, as well.

Notes from being a literary fiction agent: You can’t eliminate anxiety. Writers are narrative-driven folks, and writers feast on stories of failure. Such stories are dramatically satisfying but offer little more to the story writer. But bargain with yourself. Make an appointment with anxiety: between 3:00 and 4:00 PM is a good hour. After you’ve rolled around in the shroud, chop up an onion and make dinner.

What Makes Me Wary, What Makes Me Happy

What makes me wary:

* When a new writer looks me in the eye, holds my hand and says, “I really, really want to be a New York bestseller.”

*  When an author says, “My last agent just didn’t know anyone in Hollywood and didn’t know how to make my book into a movie.”

*  When a writer says, “I want to write in this genre type,” but then it turns out she’s never read the competition.

*  When a new writer proudly announces that she knows exactly which literary editors I should send her book to.

*  When a writer asks me if I’m interested in selling the new book in a series she is self-publishing.

What makes me happy:

*  When a writer says “I’ve written five books and had two agents. But here’s something new.”

*  When a writers says, “I like the books on your list.”

*  When a new writer says, “First, let me tell you the story.” And then the story is so spooky strong that I just want to listen to what he has to say.

*  When the first paragraph of a manuscript submission is just so strong that I immediately send it to my Kindle and then almost miss my train stop going home that night.

*  When I’m reading a manuscript and forget that I work in the publishing industry and then I snap back to reality and start to compose a submission list.

The Garden Metaphor

Today I harvested 17 tomatoes. The six tomato plants I set out this year are greener and healthier than any I’ve staked out in the last twenty years. And I’m responsible for none of the plants’ success. At a neighborhood garden sale, late in the planting season, I impulsively grabbed four tiny, scrawny potted tomatoes that were missing their labels. I didn’t mulch them. I didn’t pinch off suckers. I planted them too close together. Yet I now enjoy a thick wall of healthy, heavily laden tomato plants.

There’s a truism among agents and editors: It’s the most unexpected book that ends up being the big success. Sometimes everything conspires for success: Sun and rain showered down in abundance. The soil was just right. The plants were healthier than they looked. They didn’t need to be fussed over.

Everyone in publishing spends long hours trying to get every single detail right—from the manuscript to the jacket, to publicity, to sales outreach. And sometimes, everything works and you think: Why can’t it always be this way in the literary business? It’s what keeps the seasons of book publishing exciting for agents and editors. With every list, you know there will be a few happy and unpredictable surprises.