Slush

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Before I dive into this topic, let me just state the obvious: I am a newer agent, therefore, my outlook on the issue is a bit biased. However, I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to sway you unfairly. There is a lot to be said for being the client of an established agent, but there’s also a lot to be said for being the client of a newer agent. This isn’t going to be me playing the realtor who tries slapping creative adjectives on something undesirable. (In my soon-to-be-former home of San Francisco, realtors repeatedly call an area that, technically, is the Tenderloin, one of the city’s skeeziest neighborhoods, “Lower Nob Hill.”)

So, what’s the difference between a newer agent and a more established agent? Time and experience. As Ben Folds says, “time takes time,” so the only way a newer agent becomes a more established agent is through living and working in publishing every day. All agencies have rank. At my agency, we have Andrea, who is the President, then we have a Senior Agent. After that, we have five Agents and two Associate Agents (including myself). The “title” of each agent depends on the amount of time they’ve been with the agency and the number of books they’ve sold. That’s really all you need to know about rankings. (All the other concerns are internal and mean more to the agents themselves than to writers.)

Let’s talk about established agents first. These are the Presidents or Senior Agents, and sometimes the Agents, at an agency. They’ve been around for (usually, again, this is general) about three/five years or more and have amassed an impressive sales record. They have strong relationships with editors and their projects often get more careful consideration when they land in an editor’s inbox. They’ve proven themselves as people who have great projects. People editors want to work with again and tell their colleagues about.

So, the pros are clear:

  • Great reputation
  • Strong relationships and lots of trust
  • Impressive sales and client lists
  • Clout, clout, clout

But there are also cons that are sometimes associated with a more established agent:

  • Very selective, so it’s sometimes hard for a debut author to be considered.
  • Most established agents don’t get a lot of their clients from submissions — they weigh referrals much more heavily.
  • The longer an agent works, the busier they are. They have bigger client lists and they’ve done more books. For every book you sell, there is work attached to it (contracts, paperback reissue, royalty statements twice a year, marketing, foreign and subrights sales, etc.). The more books an agent has sold, the more work they have to devote to their existing sales and clients, and the less time they sometimes have.
  • Agenting is all about taking risks on writers and the possible return on that time and energy investment. More established agents might select writers who are very advanced already, and not take as many risks on debuts who have something special but need a lot of work.

So it’s a trade-off. An established agent has wonderful pros but they keep their clout by working hard and staying very busy. Smaller writers or debuts sometimes feel like they disappear on a bigger agent’s list. When you’re considering a more established agent, ask yourself what is more important to you: their clout when dealing with editors or feeling like a big fish in their small pond? You’ll always get the former with an established agent, but you may not get the latter.

Let’s switch gears to the newer agents. They’ve started as an intern or an assistant at an agency and worked their way up. They may have been agenting for a year or two or three. They’re building their relationships with editors and they don’t have as many sales under their belts. In a business that’s all about reputation and relationship, they’re still working on a lot of those factors.

This is often tempered, though, by the reputation of the newer agent’s agency. An agent who is hired by a very well-regarded agency has some clout already — great agencies keep their reputations by choosing great employees. And a newer agent’s senior colleagues are usually great resources, giving advice, reviewing submission lists, suggesting editors and otherwise speeding up the time/experience process. But the newer agent is still an unknown until they get more business. And their tastes and market knowledge are still evolving, so editors take that into consideration when they see a submission from most newer agents.

Here, then, are the cons of a newer agent:

  • Less personal clout — though they might have agency clout and mentors within the agency
  • Fewer big name clients and impressive sales
  • Evolving taste and market knowledge
  • Personal relationships with editors are still developing

But there are pros, too. And, again, I speak as a newer agent, so take this with a grain of salt. The pros:

  • Newer agents are hungry for sales and to build their careers. (Most agencies pay commission only, so making those sales, building those relationships and getting off the ground are very high-stakes matters for newer agents.)
  • Newer agents have more time to devote to existing clients and might be more willing to take on writers/projects that need a lot of work — they are sometimes more open to the risk of developing a writer.
  • Most newer agents have something to prove and are the ambassadors of their agencies, going to all the conferences, making the rounds with editors, getting their name out there. They’re on the up and up and have unknown potential — the newer agent who plucks you from the slush might grow into that senior agent one day, and you could be one of their loyal, long-term clients as they gain prestige.

Much like we’re taking a risk on you when we offer representation and start developing you as a writer, with a newer agent, you’re taking a risk on someone who is at the beginning of their career, too. If it works out, you could be in a great, prestigious relationship.

Take these things and what you want as a writer into consideration when you’re choosing. With newer agents, DO make sure that they have some sales under their belts and that they’re with a reputable agency. In this industry, it doesn’t really take much to hang out a shingle and call yourself a literary agent. If a newer agent is backed by a reputable agency, that’s a huge vote of confidence (as I’ve experienced firsthand, as a newer agent with a prestigious agency). If you’re getting ready to query, I’d suggest picking a list that has both newer and established agents and seeing where you get more responses.

ETA: As Bryan points out in the comments below…newer agents won’t take just anything. Newer agents have to build reputations and go out with great projects, so it isn’t necessarily easier to get past the threshold of a newer agent. And established agents will work with stellar debuts, too! Bottom line, as it is in any other post on my blog: write a great book!

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There’s a funny side effect of being an agent who blogs. On more occasions than I care to mention, I’ve gotten emails from my clients after a post, asking if the post was about them, specifically. (And, clients, if you have done this, then yes, for probably the first and only time, this post actually is about you! Now stop reading my blog and go write/revise/be brilliant!)

While I don’t make it a habit to write thinly-veiled posts about clients or writers and I don’t think I’ve said anything that would greatly offend clients or writers on this blog, this little quirk does drive home a big point: writing is extremely personal.

A writer is putting their craft, their imagination, their hopes and their dreams on the line when they sit down at the keyboard. This is a deeply sacred and important thing. No matter how far along a writer is on his writing journey, no matter if she’s writing her first book or her tenth book, the act of writing and creating is absolutely essential. And every day that I sit down to read a submission from a writer, I honor the sacred bond and trust that writers expect from me when they reach out to share their creative work. Their creative passion — even if the writing isn’t agent- or editor-ready just yet — is what makes them tick. I would never do anything to break their trust and risk hurting their creativity.

At a conference one time (and yes, this is a specific example…I hope this writer would allow me to talk about this in the hopes of illustrating a very important point that could spare the next writer some heartache), a writer told me that a creative writing teacher of hers had once taken her story, held it up as an example in front of the entire class, and completely ripped it apart. It took this writer twelve years to bounce back and type another word after that day.

Sure, this writer could’ve been overly sensitive to her teacher’s comments or excessively shy or whatever, that’s true, but it only goes to show how much power a person-perceived-to-be-in-authority has over a person’s writerly self-esteem. This isn’t something anyone, whether a critique partner or a teacher or an editor or agent, should take lightly.

People have all different levels of sensitivity about all different sorts of things. But because writing is so personal, because it deals with hopes and dreams and deep, creative desires, it is all the more fragile. People tend to be all the more protective of their writing. And I am always sensitive to that fact.

I’ve said this in my disclosures on the About Me page, but I think it bears repeating here: I will never use a specific or identifiable example on the blog unless I have permission from the writer to do so (like with questions emailed to me, the workshops or contests, for example). Stuff asked and shared at conferences is fair game because conferences are a public setting and a lot of good stories come out of live events. If I want to illustrate a craft point, I will make something up (usually exaggerated) to suit my purposes. I will never cull directly from slush or from client manuscripts.

So where do I get my post ideas? From questions people ask at conferences, from questions people ask via email, from issues that come up in the comments. Between the publishing business end of things, the craft side and the agenting side, I don’t think I’ll end up running out of things to talk about anytime soon.

And if I do discuss a particular craft issue, it is never unique to any one writer. First of all, that would make the post a lot less universal! Second of all, there really is a list of common craft traps and pitfalls that most writers fall into, if they’re going to fall. Believe it or not, but I find myself giving many of the same notes over and over. I end up seeing many of the same writing issues in 10-page sample after 10-page sample. When you read as much unpublished writing as I do, a writer’s unique strengths and challenges often match up pretty well with other strengths and challenges that you’ve seen before. So if there’s something wonky with craft, it’s usually pretty universal.

The only things that really stick out, usually — and the ones that I will obviously not blog about because of that trust I mention — are zany story ideas. The plots and premises that NOBODY has ever come up with before (usually not a good thing because they’re too out there to be widely commercial). But these types of slush gems aren’t for Twitter or the blog or Facebook. They’re just between me and Sushi.

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Rosena wrote in with a very familiar question a few days ago:

I have a query regarding the never ending circular line I seem to have stepped on to! I have written several short stories (children’s picture book types) and just finished penning a child novel and I am stuck because if I write to a publisher they won’t read my manuscripts unless I have an agent and almost all of the agents will not read my manuscripts because I have not yet had anything published. Could you offer me any advice on securing a read by one or the other?

This is a perceived problem that some writers have. Let me explain why I say “perceived.” It’s understandable thinking but I’d love to put this “I can’t get published unless I’m published” thing to rest for good.

First things first: we need writers to do our jobs. Most agents, at my agency and at others, are constantly on the lookout for new talent. We read unsolicited submissions from rank amateurs, we go to conferences, we blog, we reach out, all in the hopes of getting quality material sent our way. There are agents who are not accepting submissions or only working with referrals, sure, but they are in the minority. My inbox is full of mail from writers at all stages of their journeys. I don’t really care if they’re unpublished or published in the Podunk Literary Journal that I’ve never heard of. I’ll maybe take notice if they’ve had previous books published by a traditional publisher (not self-published or published with a vanity press) but I’m really evaluating the submission, first and foremost. The writing and story premise are all that matter, and I think that the vast majority of agents will agree with me on that point.

In terms of publishers, most major houses will not accept unagented submissions, that’s true. There are, however, houses that still take submissions directly from writers. Each of these houses has bought at least one manuscript that came from the slush, guaranteed, just like every agent has taken on a successful client from the slush. Houses that accept unagented children’s books are easy to find online. In terms of agents, I vehemently disagree with the statement “almost all of the agents will not read my manuscripts because I have not yet had anything published.” It’s just not true.

Don’t believe me and want to see for yourself? There are many, many of ways to find agents online. My favorite is Agent Query. Head over to the site. Click “Full Search” in the left-hand toolbar. Check the genres you want to write in. When you scroll to the bottom, you’ll see one additional dropbox: “Are you looking for an agent who is actively seeking new clients?” Click the dropbox and select “Yes.” Click “Search.”

When I did this search for you just now, I checked the “Children’s” and “Middle Grade” boxes under the Fiction category. (I’m assuming middle grade is what you mean when you say “child novel.” You might want to find out what category you’re writing in, as “child novel” is not a widely-used term.) With those three criteria (1- Children’s fiction, 2-Middle Grade, 3-Yes, looking for new clients), I returned over ten pages of agents. That’s about a hundred agents who you can query and who will read your submission.

Now, that doesn’t mean they’ll automatically offer representation, of course. The submission has to be excellent. If you’re reaching out to agents who are accepting new clients (most of us) and still getting form rejections or no responses at all, it isn’t your “unpublished” status that’s hurting you…it’s the quality of the submission. But keep trying. Every published author was unpublished at one point. Everyone has to start somewhere.

I’d love to stick a stake in this publishing myth and call it a day but writers are going to keep believing this anyway. Oh well. I just hope they stumble across this post at some point.

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Another interesting question I got from a reader is from Deni:

A writer very carefully searches out and queries agents he/she believes to be a good fit for their manuscript, but is personally rejected or receives no response. The writer then manages to interest a publishing house on their own, but would still prefer to have representation. How would you suggest they proceed? Do they return to the agents that rejected them in the first place (they ones they thought a good fit)? Or search out others that didn’t feel like the right person from the beginning?

I’ve written about the exciting possibility of interesting a publisher on your own and then trying to get an agent several times before. My big advice is that, if you are interested in being agented at some point, you should probably look for an agent first and go through all the ups-and-downs and rejections there instead of submitting directly to publishers. 99% of work that writers think is ready, isn’t. An agent will be a better sounding board for you than a publisher.

However, lots of people do go on to submit directly to editors and they land offers on their work. Shows you what I know! In that situation, if you still want an agent, the playing field changes a little bit. If you sign an agent up at this stage and bring them into negotiations with a publisher, they will take a 15% commission from you for stepping in. They will also give you better money and terms and will translate the contract into English for you, and otherwise be very valuable assets, but be aware that you are, pretty much, waving a flag that says “Hey agent! Free money!” when you write agents to say you have an offer. Some will definitely bite. Some still won’t.

The same goes for agents who have rejected you before, and this is what I told Deni. You can always ask. Try going back to the agents who rejected you and say you’ve received an offer. Just know that, even though there’s an offer on the table, that might not change their minds.

If I don’t like a writer’s style or voice, I wouldn’t sign them on as a client just to make a few quick bucks on a sale that’s already in progress. I sign people on for the long term. If I didn’t want to read a submission from the person once, I definitely wouldn’t want to read a career’s worth of submissions from them as their agent. I’d rather work toward getting offers for my existing clients or finding new clients whose style is a better fit for me.

But for Deni and any readers who might one day find themselves in this situation, and if their offer comes from a well-paying and reputable publisher, I hope they can use this new leverage to get noticed by their list of dream agents. There are a lot of variables at play here, of course, but I can’t think of a better “Get Out of Slush Free!” card.

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Just a Thought…

The old cliche is that, when two people have nothing better to talk about or they’re too awkward to talk about something real, they talk about the weather. Why do so many manuscripts, then, start with… descriptions of the weather?

I should hope that, if you’ve decided to write an entire manuscript, you’ve got better things to talk about than the weather and you’re not feeling too awkward to say them.

Think about it. (Yes, I am reading contest submissions right now. Yes, every other entry for the last 50 or so has mentioned some kind of weather in the first paragraph. No, I am not automatically dismissing these entries, though the author is putting themselves at a bit of a disadvantage. No, this isn’t unusual compared to the slush I usually get. No, you probably shouldn’t start a manuscript like this.)

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This answers a question that both Haylee and Siski asked a while ago, about what to send out or query with when you’ve got several projects kicking around your desk. Lots and lots of writers have multiple projects that they’ve completed. This is even more true for picture book writers, who may have 20 or more manuscripts.

The problem is, if they are beginning writers, those 20 manuscripts likely have some of the same issues. If I look at a manuscript that someone has queried me with and it lacks a strong character, for example, or a strong plot, or the voice is wrong, or there’s a lack of active language, or there’s no scene setting, seeing that the author has 19 more, hot off the press and ready to go, isn’t going to be a draw for me. If they were all written around the same time, or even before the one I’m looking at currently, they’re likely suffering from the same issues as the first manuscript.

Every time you sit down to write, you are getting better. You’re learning. Sometimes it takes writing an entire novel-length manuscript to teach you a valuable lesson about your own craft. And sometimes, that lesson won’t get published. Sometimes, in fact, it takes five manuscripts, ten manuscripts, twenty, for you to feel your way around the novel form. The same is true for picture books. In fact, it’s even more true. Picture books are deceptively simple and it is awfully hard to make a great one. Lots of people think otherwise, and happily churn out an entire slew of drafts. I think it’s more reasonable to see your early work and your early, prolific output as more of an exercise rather than a finished product. As such, I don’t want to see all of your exercises in my inbox. Some practice is better left for your eyes only.

If you get the itch to query and you’ve got multiple projects, query  with your absolutely strongest one. I read thousands and thousands and thousands of queries and manuscripts. I can tell where an author is from looking at their work. Not every project — especially not the ones you wrote when you were still beginning and figuring things out — will sell. Show me only your strongest work. If I’m considering taking you on, I’ll be asking about your future projects and what else you have in mind, since those will more likely be even better. I will very rarely say, “Hey, do you have any problematic drawer novels I can sell?” unless you are a 12 out of 10 genius.

Agents really dislike it, actually, when people send a stable of their work on first contact. Pick the best one. If I want to see more, I’ll ask. This is especially pertinent to picture book authors. If I like the project they query with, I always want to make sure they have at least two more that I love before I take them on.

Bonus Tip: If you query an agent and get rejected, wait at least 6 months before querying them — of anyone — with a different project. Per my thinking above, the new thing you send me is most likely going to have the same issues that I noticed when I just rejected your first project. If you send out a project and it garners lots of rejections and little personalized or positive feedback, the cure isn’t jumping back into querying with a different project. The smarter thing to do would be to go back to the drawing board for a while and work on craft.

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One of the main reasons I keep this blog is to be a resource for writers. As you realize, opening myself up to writers is a bit selfish of me. My target readers are people who I hope will reach out to me and maybe even become my clients. I’ll be the first to freely admit that. I write here to help writers but also to attract them, because I am very actively building my list and looking for talent.

However, this also puts me in a bit of a pickle. I’ve built up a great readership in the almost-year that this blog has been up and running. Some of my readership will end up querying me. The statistical probability is that I will end up rejecting most of these queries. People say that this blog is useful, but I can’t even begin to think it’s useful or instructive enough to overturn the 99%-or-so rejection rate I’m currently running. So, this means I’ll, at one time or another, end up rejecting most of my extremely charming, dedicated and enlightening readership.

Awk-ward.

You all appreciate getting little glimpses into my head, and I have to say that this is always a difficult moment for me. When someone mentions that they read the blog — and many do — in their query, I do brighten a little bit. It never ceases to amaze me how many readers I’m able to reach out to. However, it becomes that much more painful if I have to reject them. I wish I could give special consideration and preferential treatment to all my blog readers, but, at the end of the day, it’s the strength of the writing and the manuscript’s concept that count.

So, fine blog readers and enterprising writers, do know that it pains me greatly to have to reject my own blog readership. And I hope that you won’t stop reading if your query with me doesn’t go as you’d like. (In fact, it’s the people getting rejected by me and other agents that should probably keep reading… even if they happen to be crafting a voodoo doll in my likeness while they do it.) I don’t want to cultivate and then alienate my favorite audience. It’s just something that happens as a result of this blog, and it’s always a sticky situation.

Sigh. Just one of the perils of being someone who, essentially, crushes souls every day for a living. But then I do find a manuscript I love and I sell it to a publisher. Making those dreams come true for my clients can make everything else feel worth it and that’s, hands down, my favorite part of the job.

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I’m seeing some of this in my slush and want to clear something up very quickly. When I request something from you, I’m emailing to ask you, “Hey, can you send me a full manuscript?” or, “Hey, can you send me a few picture book manuscripts to review?” or, “Hey, do you have an illustration portfolio?” This means that I saw your work, read it, and really liked it. When I do this, I’ll give you instructions so that you can submit it as requested material and bypass my slush.

There are a few tricksters out on the Internet who say that writers should just mark something as requested material, trick the agent into opening it, and get past all the gatekeepers and become Dan Brown. Here’s the thing: we know what we request and why we request it. So it is not only a waste of time but also an annoyance to mark something “Requested” when it really isn’t. This tactic probably works better for mail submissions, when the agent or editor might get confused about the name and open the envelope anyway, and not email, where we can instantly search your submission and figure out whether we’ve corresponded with you before or not. Either way, the jig will be up when we open your “Requested” submission and realize that it’s just slush. We’ll be able to tell, nine times out of ten, because it won’t be of the same kind of quality as something we’d normally request.

To clarify, sometimes I will ask a writer to resubmit. This is if they do not follow our submission guidelines. Some agents, at my agency and other agencies, will automatically delete a submission that doesn’t follow guidelines. Our guidelines require the first 10 pages pasted into the body of the email, along with the query letter. If I get a skimpy submission of query letter only, I will send the writer a form message asking them to resubmit. Yes, I asked them to (re)submit something. Yes, this is technically a request from me (that they follow the submission guidelines). It is not, however, a requested submission.

I can’t tell you how many enterprising scamps have then emailed me, proclaiming that they’re sending in a requested submission. It’s not. It’s me giving them a chance to correct their submission error. I know exactly what I’ve requested, as does every other agent in the world. This kind of cheekiness isn’t appreciated. I hope the distinction between a requested submission and a resubmission request is clear and makes a bit of sense.

(I know some of you will call me a hypocrite to insist on submission guidelines while also writing a post about flouting submission guidelines and sending a writing sample anyway. So be it. I still stand by what I said there — only if you really want to take the risk and be a little bold. That trick isn’t for everyone’s sensibilities and there is a chance you’ll piss certain people off. All I can say is that I love having a writing sample to read, I think the more you send to sell yourself the better (within the 10 page limit, of course), and that it has worked in my personal querying life. Please take that with as much salt as you like.)

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Wow. Here I am again, writing about rejection follow-up. This one will be short because I think the point is easily made. Writers: I invest my time and energy in the success of my clients. That is what I am paid to do. I brainstorm ideas with them, talk to them, figure what houses and editors are good fits for their work, give them notes on their manuscripts and, in general, spend a lot of time thinking about their careers. I do not do this for the people in my slush. Unless what they send me completely blows me away and they become my clients.

If you query me, please do not expect me to critique your manuscript for you after I reject it. Do not turn around and ask what was wrong with it, what parts didn’t work, what could be better. I understand that you want these answers. I understand that writing and querying agents can be a lonely, confusing process fraught with pain and rejection.

But it’s not my job to provide free critiques to all of Creation. At conferences, organizers charge a lot of money for a critique with an agent. Because they’re worth that much. That’s not my ego talking. Let me explain (with a brilliant analogy I borrowed from another writer). A person usually balks at a repairman who comes and fixes their appliance with a 15-cent washer and charges them $500 bucks. “All he had to do is stick that washer in there!” they shout. What they don’t take into account is the years that repairman spent learning the trade or the time he spends practicing it. Sure, the washer cost 15 cents, but it’s not like the customer knew where to stick it himself.

It’s the same thing with the skills I’ve learned. They have come through me from an expensive education, work experience and years and years and years of reading, writing, and soaking up the wisdom and expertise of agents and editors. If I send you a form rejection letter, do not ask me to trot out my skills for free. That repairman’s job is to learn how to repair things well enough that he can make a living. My job is to work with a select list of writers and sell their projects. Your job, as a writer who wants to attain publication, is to learn how to write with a level of skill and craft that will get you published. Like with any other job, you need to invest time and, often, money (in the form of classes, conferences, books, etc…. but never pay an agent or agency to read your query or manuscript!) in order to get started.

There are tons of resources out there, including the SCBWI, conferences and other writers who you can include in a critique group. I would love to be a resource for new writers, because I know and understand where they come from and what they’re going through, but I can’t provide individual assistance to everyone who wants it. That’s why I keep this blog and reach out to as many as I possibly can with articles that are as relevant as possible to the greatest number of people at once.

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This is the situation every querying writer is looking forward to: getting an offer of representation from an agent. Awesome. Now what? Well, I want to write several posts on this issue, but here’s the first thing you need to do… let other agents know.

Don’t let every agent you queried know — let only the agents who have responded with a partial request, a full request, or any other kind of encouraging sign, and have not given you their decision yet. The only exception is with a picture book submission, where you’ve queried with a full manuscript. Since you sent the full manuscript, contact all the agents you queried. Write them the following email and put “OFFER RECEIVED” in the subject line:

Dear Mary,

I know you’re still reading BOOK TITLE but I wanted to let you know that I’ve received an offer of representation. I’d like to see if you’re also interested in the project. Please get back to me by X day and let me know. I look forward to hearing from you!

Author

Give the agent a week to respond. Within the day, you should hear back from agents. They’ll either say, “Yes, I’m still reading and will get back to you within the week” or, “You know, I should probably step aside at this point.” Then you wait for the agents who still want to consider to either bow out or toss their hats into the ring. But yes, let them know immediately. It’s not being pushy. Someone already sees the value in your work, so you can call attention to yourself in this situation.

I hope all of you get to experience this and have one of the most exciting weeks of your career so far!

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