There are many ways to find an agent. I know, because I’ve tried most of them. In the past decade, I’ve queried over sixty agents about two different books – and had contracts offered from three. No question, the agent search has been the most frustrating part of my writing career. But part of it’s my own fault.
The book I sent out in 2001 was still rough. Of course, I thought it was brilliant, and so did an assistant for an agent who was hot at that time. The agent said, “It needs work,” but gave the assistant permission to take me on. She didn’t know what she was doing any more than I did, and after collecting rejections on my behalf, she lost her job.
By then I’d written another novel. One agent who read it sent me a one-paragraph evaluation and said he’d look at it if I revised. I did. Six months later, I received a standard rejection. I’m still grateful for the editorial advice.
What I learned – very slowly – was that my work was good, but not yet good enough, so during the next seven years, I’d go through stints of revising followed by spurts of researching agents and sending out queries. Some agents sent form rejections, some never replied, and some wrote letters telling me I was a “splendid writer” and that “someone else will snap up these lovely pages.” I also received letters rejecting someone else’s novel – the first glimmer I had of what a nightmare record-keeping might be at the agents’ end.
In between bouts of submissions, I’d engage in bouts of revision. Each time, both novels improved. I published some of the chapters as short stories, even winning a prize. But I was so demoralized that I stopped sending the books out. Even after I learned about a new, independent, micro-publisher interested in regional fiction, it took me eight months to muster the courage to submit. A month later, my book was accepted, and a year after that, Into the Wilderness was in print.
Having a published novel was thrilling, and I still hear from readers, which is absolutely the best. The novel won a prestigious award, but marketing it was incredibly hard work. I spent a year on the hustings, and sold nearly 2,000 copies. I learned a lot – including the limits of my reach as a solo publicist.
I decided to give the mainstream route another try, and pitched the unpublished book to an agent at a writer’s conference. It was six months before I heard from her, but she loved my work and wanted to represent me. Then she disappeared. Twelve months after we met she sent me an agency contract and said she could send my book out the following week. I was leery. We talked on the phone. I asked for some time to think. In the end, I saw too many red flags: One was she worked by herself, and I found myself worrying about her safety and health. I decided I needed an agency, not just an agent. Then, after several weeks of flattery, she insisted I had to rewrite the book – and told me how. In the end, I didn’t feel confident that she was reliable. With considerable regret, I turned her down.
Meanwhile, I tried another tack. A friend of a friend of a friend gave me the name of an agent who only represents cookbooks; she suggested three agents who handled literary fiction. I used her name in my query, and they all asked for a sample. Two asked for more, and one called to talk. This agent spoke as an advocate for the reader and told me where she stumbled while reading the story. She’d look at it again if I cared to rewrite. I did. I also looked her up.
She’s a principal in a well-established agency with a handful of agents. Every time I submitted, she’s replied within the promised six-week timeframe. Every time she’s read the book, she’s said, “This is where I have a problem with the story,” leaving me to write my own fix.
We’ve signed an author-agent agreement, and she has the book now. I’m crossing my fingers – but not holding my breath. Literary fiction is a hard sell, and Elegy for a Girl is a dark story. But that’s her problem. Mine is writing my next book.
Deborah Lee Luskin often writes about Vermont, where she has lived since 1984. She is a commentator for Vermont Public Radio, a Visiting Scholar for the Vermont Humanities Council and the author of the award winning novel, Into The Wilderness. For more information, visit her website at www.deborahleeluskin.com
I truly admire the tennacity of a published writer… I don´t know If I would be ‘deflated’ after 50+ rejections for the same book… it takes a lot of self-discipline and, more importantly, self-believe!
Good for you!
Deborah, you are a model of persistence and flexibility for the rest of us. Cheers!
Like you, I realize I shopped my first work too early. Fourteen “passes” on my queries were enough for me. (I hate calling them rejections – if someone hasn’t even read the book, can they really reject it?) So now that book is getting revised, and I’m vetting my second novel through a series of readers and drafts before I even think of contacting an agent about it.
Kudos for your dedication and perseverance! And thank you for the insights into an extremely difficult process. And best wishes for finding that publisher smart enough to take on your novel!
thank you fro writing this. You won through by being tenacious and this is heartening. Though i have to say it looks grueling. I wonder what i have let myself in for. Still, I am writing and that in itself was the first objective.. c
Deborah,
Thank you for this post. I have been battling the urge to write for many years now. Coming up with one idea after another and drafting outlines, but never actually putting my foot down. School, running a company, and being born ill has not been an easy task to deal with. Recently I decided that there is no point in fighting this inner urge to get truth to the public, and share my vast array of personal stories with the world. There would be no use in me trying to attempt getting sleep if I didn’t get it all out. Many have seen me as “pig headed” but I know I am just being who I’m destined to be. I have always believed that if you feel something eating at your core, that is the real you trying to bite its way to the surface, and one would be ignorant not to take heed to the fact that they are being eaten alive from the inside out. I have saved this post for future reference being that I am working on a book now. You have reminded me the importance of resilience and persistence and I really appreciate it.
As always, very informative post. The writing and publishing industries are just that– industries, and very complicated ones as that. Thanks for sharing a story from the insider that a lot of us never get to hear!
Though I am not at the same level of success here – my first book was a POD print version and the second book an e-book, there is so much familiar here. A friendly local writer told me once at an event, “You need an agent.” And while I walked away I knew I had tried and vowed to keep trying. That’s because I have four binders. Two are “editor campaigns” and two are “agent campaigns.” In the front pages of each are older printouts and lists from past editors and agents sent to in the 1990s. The newer lists are there, but divided by which book was being pitched. I usually sent out several mailings in groups of thirty editors or thirty agents. What I realized through the years, was that there were just as many flaky agents out there as the number of flaky writers. And though that is an unkind simplification, we know it’s a tough business, some well-justified and well-meaning agents can’t hang in there. Snail mail returns with stamped across the envelope, “Addressee Not Known” or “Not at this address” speaks for itself. Nothing was more frustrating than getting a response that stated “no longer accepting” and “not looking for fiction” – this after double checking the guidelines prior to sending. More than once, I was on the phone stating that the agency guidelines states otherwise, and asking, “Why wasn’t that guideline updated in a timely manner?” And maybe I’m just another flaky writer out there. Even through all that, the second book began to get more replies on the rejections with critiques, what was liked, what was needed, and these were, I realized, signs that what I was sending was better written. These were from some editors too, small presses and medium presses who were accepting un-agented manuscripts. And it may be true the “catch 22” thing, “that you need and agent to get a publisher, and you need a publishing history to get an agent.” I think the most snobbish thing from the big houses is the notion that they need the agents “to vet” the writers for them. And maybe they do. I had heard that directly at a writer’s conference. That same agent told me to send to his editor. That was a “requested work.” On complying and sending, I had no reply…. ever, neither from follow-ups nor calls. Crazy business.
Deborah, indeed literay fiction is a hard sell. But you know what? When a book of yours, or mine, within the genre of literary fiction, finally makes it to nationwide exposure, it usually wins out over the commercial best sellers. After all, think about what is in anthologies approved by English departments all over the world. I wish you all success with this book accepted by this agent/agency, and with your work-in-progress. I totally enjoy this website and always get a little more understanding of what it means to be a committed (no pun intended, ha!) writer. P.S. Edgar Allen Poe was a “dark” writer. Much of Shakespeare is very dark: “et tu, Brutus?” The human soul contains many dark chambers, in need of the light you will shine into them with your novel.
The Baganda has a saying that- ogutategannya teguza nvuma. literary meaning that you have to persist in whatever you do.Your continued persistence has indeed yielded wonderful result for you.I like that.