Writer Seeks Agent
Hello, my name’s Jason. Will you be my agent?
I have a BA in Creative Writing from Kansas State University, and an MFA from Naropa University, and I have one published novel. The Evolution of Shadows, was released in 2009 by Unbridled Books. My book received a nice review from Publishers Weekly, and my photo led-off the fiction review section that month. My book then received a starred review from Library Journal and the reviewer made a favorable comparison to Earnest Hemingway. Those reviews were followed by good reviews from Booklist and Bookforum, plus a number of independent book bloggers. The Evolution of Shadows was then selected as a November 2009 Indie Next Pick, and a 2010 Kansas Notable Book. Unfortunately, so far, sales haven’t been what we hoped they would be, but I don’t think they’ve been completely dismal for a first novel on a small press by a writer with no previous publishing history and no fan base, except for some mystery person at the Atlantic Monthly who thought I deserved an honorable mention in their 1999 Student Writing Competition.
Recently, I completed a draft of next novel, titled "The Palace of Winds,” which is the first of a planned trilogy. So, if by the end of my post here you wish to read that, I can deliver that manuscript for review. The second book of the trilogy is already in progress.
So, I don’t have an agent because I gave up on agents after receiving nearly fifty rejections from various ones while trying to get my first novel published. Yes, I know, I’ve heard all the advice that says a writer should never lead with the number of rejections they’ve had because it tells the prospective agent both that 50 people didn’t like the book, and that the agent receiving the 51st submission is way down on the list. But you see, I want that number out there because I think it shows my determination but also because it goes a small bit of the way towards explaining my sometimes bitter opinions about agents and the kinds of writers they seem to prefer.
Getting all those rejections made me feel like I did during those awful junior high dances I attended when I was 13 or 14 years-old. I went out and and approached the agents I was most attracted to: you know, the ones who represent the authors I like, or the writers I think I’m similar to. I tried 50 times to win the favor of an agent who, like the most popular girl at school, had already landed someone “better,” or who was entertaining so many charming suitors that she wasn’t going to waste time with a small-time beginner promising only small returns when she could pick from several writers with pre-existing reputations and the promise of six figure contracts.
Inevitably, just like at those dances, every submission I made to those agents received a rejection. When I got the form rejection letters, they often included such statements as “I won’t take on an author I don’t believe I can get behind 100%” or “I have to be absolutely passionate about a writer’s work before I’ll represent him.” A few times, I got personalized rejections where the agents stated that they liked my writing but “didn’t think it was right for the list” or the agents didn’t think they “would be able to advocate for the book as strongly as it deserves.” One even said that my novel had a haunting, lyrical quality, but that she didn’t know how to sell it (try that haunting lyrical quality). It was all eerily like those girls in junior high who, when they discovered I had a crush on them, would say all sorts of things like “you’re not my type” or “I want someone just like you, but not you” in an attempt to let me down easily, but still make it clear that my meager offerings in love (and literature) were undesirable and more than just a little beneath them.
Finding an agent in the traditional way is exactly like those awful, soul and confidence crushing junior high dances. The agent is the belle of ball, or maybe Madeline Kahn’s Empress Nympho selecting her escorts for the orgy, and every day there are hundreds of new writers showing up at the agent’s doorstep begging to be picked. Well, the truth is, if I’m running around trying to woo an agent because that agent represents a writer I admire, or am similar to, what in the world would that agent want with me when she already has that writer?
But, just like I eventually got lucky and found my girlfriend, Rebekah (six years together this August), and my publisher and editor, Fred Ramey (two plus years and, I hope, two books), who both decided they wanted me and my writing in their lives, I am certain I can find an agent who will want me and my writing in his or her life - and who thinks other people should read what I write. However, I’m not going to keep running about begging to be liked because, honestly, I know I would continue to pick badly and beg to be liked by the agents who don’t want anything to do with me.
A few years ago, there was a website that set itself up as a database of writers looking for agents, and as a place where agents could go to find new writers. Has it survived? Did it survive? I know that back then, I couldn’t afford to join (paying to be on the site in itself makes it suspect to me) and if it still exists, it seems it’s become insignificant and probably still beyond my budget. So, I am putting out my little personal ad and hoping that chance, or my fellow writers, will play match-maker and bring me and that perfect agent together.
Who would be the perfect agent, you ask? Why the perfect agent for me would be someone who meets the following two requirements:
1) Be a member of, or in the process of becoming a member of, the Association of Authors’ Representatives.
2) Love my writing enough to be its champion.
2a) Be flexible and creative about championing my work to the world, i.e. be willing to work with independent publishers, embrace technology, consider alternative contracts, etc.
That’s it. The agent doesn’t have to be “famous,” or have made a stellar big money sale, or know every editor at a big publishing house. In fact, it might be better if the agent isn’t any of those things, but I won’t hold those things against an agent if the agent loves my writing.
I await your reply,
Sincerely, Jason Quinn Malott.
This post can also be read at my other blog A Wandering Road
Keywords:
About Jason
Jason Quinn Malott has a BA in Creative Writing from Kansas State University, and an MFA in Writing and Poetics from Naropa University (The Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics). He has worked as a dishwasher, a short order cook, a barista, a newspaper...
Connections
Jason is a fan of
50 Rejections
Bear in mind that rejections don't equate with the number of people who didn't like the manuscript. They represent the number of people you approached who didn't believe they could earn enough money on your book to make their support financially worthwhile.
Measured Response
Mr. Goldman, I have been thinking about how to respond to your comment, or even if I should respond. I've wrestled with snarky, sarcastic, snide and out-right angry retorts because my first reaction was to assume you believe me to have just fallen off the turnip truck and accidentally landed in a book contract.
Now, I will admit that, from the outside, I often appear naive, perhaps even unknowing, of the way things are. So, rather than be defensive, let me say this:
You are right. The basic, driving force in the publishing world is money. Money, and the ability to earn a lot of it, is often, but not always, seen as the only measure of a writer's worth. Money keeps the lights on and food on the table. Money, and that need to buy food and pay bills, often puts writers in bed with the devil just so we can continue to write our little stories every morning.
Those deals with the devil are something I know extremely well. In my meager 40 yrs I've made a lot of those deals. Trading 40 hrs a week of my time to "the man" ((or woman) and some worse than others (man, if I felt comfortable telling your who I work for now. . . . )), for just enough money to keep myself out of total bankruptcy has had one profound effect on my outlook on life, and it's this: I fucking hate money. I hate the fact that I need it, and I hate the fact that I sometimes want it. I hate that it determines where I live, what I drive, what I eat, and what I can own.
The tantalizing carrot of being a writer is that fate can sometimes decide to dump a load of cash in our laps. Take our recent National Book Award winner. One day she's plugging along on a small press, like both you and me, and suddenly she's got a lump of prize money, a New York Times bestselling novel, Random House (i think) snatches up her paperback rights, and I'm sure her film rights have been picked up as well. That is a tempting daydream, and one that I have from time to time.
But I can't make a living on that daydream. It will probably never materialize. So, I have to simply write as well as I can and trade in the only currency that matters, and the only currency that I have: love and devotion. My love for telling meaningful stories, my publishers devotion to me and my book, and the love and devotion of the small audience I have acquired. There are plenty of cash cows out there if my publisher or agent needs to keep the lights on, and I won't wold it against them for associating with more popular writers, as long as they continue to support and encourage me.
How do I get it into a cover letter that what I want is to be the thing someone will make a bargain with the devil in order to protect? How do I go about determining which agent will, in the face of financial demands, commit to me the way I, in the face of financial demands, commit every morning to my own writing? I have yet to find a way to decipher that from the material on an agent's website, or convey all of that in a one page query letter that also covers my bio and a pitch for a book.
So, in the end, yes, it is obvious that all those agents rejected my book because of money. But if I spend my time always thinking about it that way, I might as well give up writing and become a plumber.
Plumbing
I am puzzled why you would contemplate even for a moment the idea of responding with an attack. I corrected your statement only to make you feel better, to remind you that marketplace results might or might not correlate with the worth of the manuscript. Anyway, forget about being a plumber. The construction business is in worse shape than the novel business. Also, most people try not to hire angry plumbers.
Dancing, Agents
I loved your analogy to the junior high dance. That would make a great short story or novel. Your writing is clever and fun. I hope you will find a match.
Good luck!
Eva