Your Agent Isn’t Your Mommy
A comment at Courtney Milan’s blog caused Passive Guy to reflect on the extreme reactions of some authors to any criticisms of the business practices of agents. These reactions may also occur in response to reports or opinions that traditional publishing is in rapid decline, but are particularly intense when agents are criticized.
Some of these reactions don’t strike PG as the responses of mature business people discussing a business relationship.
Here are some examples from the comments section of the Bookends blog during the disastrous introduction of Bookends’ agent/publishing venture:
[Speaking of one of Bookends' agents] My gut, my heart, my experience says to trust in her vision because I have faith in her inventiveness, faith in her intelligence, and unshakeable faith in her integrity.
I trust her implicitly to take care of my career…which in turn takes care of hers.
Jessica and I have spent many hours talking about my work and my career. I trust that she has my best interest at heart, and not just because my best interest is her best interest.
The idea that anyone is trying to exploit anyone else deeply saddens me. [After signing with an agent,] I would trust him/her with all my future endeavors. All. Even if they seemed, excuse the turn of phrase, sketchy as hell.
Quite simply, I trust them no matter how our business relationship shifts and changes to keep up with the industry.
To PG, these kinds of reactions seem weird and a little icky, but mostly adolescent, maybe even babyish.
They’re sound like a shy sophomore who has a giant crush on the high school quarterback and slips anonymous love notes into his locker. Bobby can do no wrong because he’s just so cute and wonderful and she knows he likes her because he said hi one time in the hall between classes.
Or (rolling away from sexism), they’re like Napoleon Dynamite after someone agreed to go to the dance with him.
This is a business relationship, not a girls and boys club. The class of trust that speaks to PG in quotes like these is a mommy trust or a clingy best friend trust, a deeply codependent and needy trust. If the agent terminates representation, it will feel like a breakup instead of like switching to a new doctor.
In discussions about the massive changes underway in publishing, some authors resolve all concerns by saying something like, “I asked my agent about this and she says it’s not really a problem.” This reminds PG of little kids who say, “Oh yeah, well my dad says . . . ”
Passive Guy doesn’t know if agents consciously encourage this sort of dependency, but it sure makes for cooperative clients.
How badly must such an agent perform before the author decides to terminate the relationship? If a plumber made a mistake that cost you money, that plumber would be gone. If a real estate agent assured you it would be a cinch to sell your house in 30 days, you’d fire her if it was still on the market six months later.
How can an author make sound independent decisions about his writing career if he “would trust [his agent] with all future endeavors. All. Even if they seemed sketchy as hell.”
When PG practiced law, he would have expected to be immediately terminated if he ever suggested something that struck his client as “sketchy as hell.” He was always happy to be thanked for his services, but would have been creeped out by the saccharine sentiments some authors slather all over the web about their agents.
Apparently, for some authors, love conquers all so long as they’re regularly rocked and reassured.
Feel free to tell Passive Guy he’s crazy about this. He promises he’ll leave your comment up even if you say you trust your agent implicitly.
, Amazon will pay Passive Guy a small affiliate commission on any of your purchases.
PG, think of it like this – it’s sort of a guru or a life coach type of relationship. Or, sometimes, people feel this way about their lawyer, doctor or financial adviser – you turn it all over to another person (a higher power). Do you know what I mean? It’s hard to find the exact wording to describe the relationship – yes a parent/child description is apt, but it’s also a sort of quasi-religious leader they know what’s best for me and how to go about getting what’s best for me sort of relationship.
Am I making sense?
I’m quite certain professional agent/client relationships abound. But very often in life, people, specifically us reclusive writers, want someone else (someone who seems to be an authority in a particular field) to take the reins and guide the sleigh or wagon or horse-drawn carriage. I’m not one of those people, but don’t assume I haven’t spent a good portion of my struggling career wishing I was one of those people lucky enough to have an agent/publisher/somebody/anybody to take the reins and guide me along the path to success. To claim otherwise would be a lie.
You know the game – A Barrel of Monkeys? These days I feel like we’re all thrown into the same barrel, all us monkeys – writers, agents and publishers – and the fickle fates are shaking the hell out of the plastic barrel.
Julia – Your description of the Baby Writer Syndrome is much more articulate than mine is.
I hadn’t thought about the religious angle, but I think you’re right. Maybe Sensei would work better as a title than Agent.
My life experience, especially as learned from some of my former divorce clients, is if you want someone to run your life, you’ll probably find that person. You may not be terribly happy with the life that results, however.
I’m grateful to Sarah Hoyt and Courtney Milan for sharing their eye-opening experiences with the rest of us. They were not obligated to share anything and seem to be looking out for the greater community of writers.
Agreed, Hollister.
It seems to be the age-old story for the traditional publishing business: it would be great, if only they didn’t have to deal with those damn writers.
Seriously, who is serving whom? How is it that so many publishers and agents treat so many writers as necessary evils?
Keep it up, PG. Great stuff.
Thanks, Lane.
The author’s comment was accurate in that an agent (who isn’t also publishing you) does benefit from looking out for the author’s best interests. Trouble is, not all agents are competent or efficient or as crazy about you as you are about them (because they have more profitable authors ahead of you on their favorites list). I’ve heard of a few downright awful agent/author relationships, some of which started out great but then it seemed that the agent took the author’s loyalty for granted and ceased working as hard as before (that’s been the authors’ side of the story, at any rate). On the other hand, I’ve seen some authors get pretty full of themselves and dismissive of their agents as if it is the agent and only the agent standing in the way between them and bestsellerdom. I’d guess there are agents taking a lot of grief from authors and vice versa (these relationships are a lot like marriages, with plenty of bad ones but some good ones, too). My point is that we must resist the urge to toss everyone in a certain profession into one pile and think that we have the full story on all of them. The author who made the comment may feel that way today, but let the agent mess up and let’s see what she has to say. The honeymoon stage doesn’t necessarily last forever.
Good point about putting everyone into the same bucket, Patricia.
Kudos PG,
I was waiting for this!
The fawning on some agent blogs is nauseous. “ZOMG! Jill answered my question. SQEEEEE! Thanks Jill you are the greatest.”
The language to describe agents is often curious “my dream agent”, or, they were “a perfect fit”, as if they were talking about lovers.
I think the query system must have writers so beaten down and so lacking in confidence that when an agent shows an interest (or glances their direction), they lose all self-control.
I think these writers really need to start thinking like business owners who are considering licensing a valuable product. They need to approach the relationship as professional equals, not as lackeys.
If you don’t you are leaving yourself open to being screwed.
Best way to do that? Self-publish. Sell some work. Gain some readers. Get confidence in your abilities. Value your work properly. Then, if you ever deal with an agent, it will be from a position of strength.
If you don’t want to self-publish, sell some short stories or novellas to magazines. Get some publishing credits. Beef up your writer’s CV. Get to know some editors. Get your work out there. Make a little money.
Either way, you will know you have some writing chops and that an agent isn’t the only path to being published, getting readers, or earning money.
But really, stop the fawning. I’m embarrassed for you.
Dave
Re: David’s: “I think the query system must have writers so beaten down and so lacking in confidence that when an agent shows an interest (or glances their direction), they lose all self-control.” -AND- “I’m embarrassed for you.”
LOL. Seriously, I laughed out loud.
Thanks for the kind words, David. I absolutely agree that authors who have a Plan B will be in a much better position to establish and maintain a businesslike relationship with their agents.
“The language to describe agents is often curious “my dream agent”, or, they were “a perfect fit”, as if they were talking about lovers.
I think the query system must have writers so beaten down and so lacking in confidence that when an agent shows an interest (or glances their direction), they lose all self-control.”
That’s what I see happening. You spend years and years working on your craft, going to conferences, joining critique groups and writing organizations, submitting manuscript after manuscript, continually writing and then…THEN…someone finally says you’re good enough. And not just anyone, but AN AGENT. The only person who can let you through the gates to the publishers. A gatekeeper has finally deemed you worthy! It’s a heady experience, and I’ve seen authors celebrate landing an agent on the same level as if they’ve signed a publishing contract (and I think – you do know that having an agent is just…having an agent. There’s absolutely no guarantee of sales).
I think all that hard work and hoping and wishing and praying makes you more susceptible to accepting agents as little mini-gods who can do no wrong (I agree with Julia on the slightly religious aspect of it). That sort of blind faith is disturbing. You see something sketchy…and it still wouldn’t change your mind? That I don’t get at all.
The authors who trust their agents NO MATTER WHAT are the ones who are going to be standing at the end of the line with no money and no rights and wondering how it happened.
Dead-on 100% correct.
The feeling takes a while to wear off, generally. But once you see a friend get screwed, or hear famous horror stories, or even just hang around long enough to learn some stuff on your own and realize your agent let too much stuff slide and now you’re missing out, you realize agents are only human; you have only one agent but your agent has many clients; and agencies are businesses that want to make money, not support groups for authors.
Thanks, Caroline, and you’re absolutely right that agents and authors often hold vastly different views of the emotional nature of the relationship.
Lane and Sariah – I agree on the emotional mechanics of the query system. After so many people have said no, you have a tendency to cling to someone who finally says yes and fear what might happen if that agent leaves you.
[After signing with an agent,] I would trust him/her with all my future endeavors. All. Even if they seemed, excuse the turn of phrase, sketchy as hell.
Quite simply, I trust them no matter how our business relationship shifts and changes to keep up with the industry.
It does sound a bit like the blind-trust-no-matter-what of a parent/child or guru/initiate relationship, which is definitely problematic in what’s supposed to be a business relationship with the author ultimately in charge of decision making.
It also sounds a lot like Stockholm syndrome, which I think is a bit more on point under the circumstances.
Angie
Angie – You’re right about Stockholm syndrome. Joe Konrath loves that comparison.
PG, I get it. I used to be one of fawning and timid who trusted implicitly and hoped for the best. And now I have 17 books for which I’ll never get the rights reverted and 22 cents a copy if they any sell ebook copies (that is if the publisher feels like reporting those sales). Now I’m a crusty old bitch who knows better. Agents serve a purpose. When they do they their job, they can help a writer’s career soar. Trouble is, they’re people. Trust is expensive.
JW – I have some more Mickey Spillane quotes coming next week that you might like.
Mickey Spillane = my hero. I’m pretty sure he was the one who said, “I write a book in January, send it off to my publisher. The rest of the year I go fishing.”
Every agent I’ve met reminds me of the computer sales reps I know. And from what I can tell from your blog, publishing contracts are like systems integration contracts.
Thinking this way makes behavior easier to predict. It’s about the money. Making it and keeping it. For everyone around the table. No exceptions.
Agent as computer sales rep – they would take umbrage at that characterization, C.L., but I like it.
David’s comment is so spot on: “writers really need to start thinking like business owners who are considering licensing a valuable product. They need to approach the relationship as professional equals, not as lackeys.”
All the analogies to writers as nerdy freshmen swooning at the slightest smile from a popular football player are accurate too.
Perhaps it’s not so surprising that corporate publishing is no longer interested in anything much besides teen books. The whole industry is kind of one big high school drama.
I’m so glad I’ve finally graduated.
I signed a contract with a small publishing house on Thursday. On Friday I got three requests for reads from agents I’d queried months ago. Coincidence, of course, but it does seem to provide a “law of attraction” metaphor: when you have confidence, you draw power to yourself instead of repelling it.
It gave me that wonderful feeling I had when I found a real boyfriend, and realized I didn’t have to go out on any bad dates any more. Oh, the freedom!
For people who are already with agents, or find agents who are progressive enough to see the value of taking many paths to publishing, it may be a different story. Not all agents are greed-monsters or morons, and they’re trying different avenues to keep themselves relevant. Not every writer is an entrepreneur, and having a business partner may be worth it for some people. It doesn’t have to be either/or.
We have more choices right now, and that’s a good thing.
Thanks for your comments, Anne, and I agree we should be careful not to place all agents in the same bucket.
I agree with my agent on all matters. My wife thanks me for this wisdom and why I started the publishing company!
Contract is implicit guidance, not always to my liking.
Percentage taken = 10%, aka Tithe
http://www.deanwesleysmith.com/?p=5052
God bless you PG, keep up the AWESOME work!
-Steve
Thanks, SL.
Picture this. A sensitive and creative writer spends years of hard work trying to break into the bastion known as publishing. They are weary and heartbroken when an agent comes along and says: “I belive in your and your writing. Your book is wonderful and I fell in love with it.” (MOM)
“Leave everything to me. I’ll take care of you and protect you.” (DAD)
“If you have any problems, come to me and I’ll listen and together we will figure out what to do.” (HUSBAND/WIFE)
“I’ve been an insider for eons. I know the language, I know exactly what to do. I’m wise in the ways of publishing. (SENSEI/GURU)
To a sensitive and creative person who only wants to sit by themselves in isolation, creating stories, the Agent becomes all of these things.
The reality is – they are none of these things; and the letdown will be tremendous when it happens.
I’m not surprised some writers are in denial of the truth as it stands before them. I pray they never feel the letdown, but most likely at some point (especially if Agents become publishers) they will.
Jeanne – As mentioned elsewhere, my experience is that people who want someone to take care of them are usually very disappointed. And where’s the adulthood in that role?
Silly me. I couldn’t figure out how to post a reply here, so I sent Passive Voice an email. At least I think I did, being somewhat technologically challenged.
Everyone here said what I was going to say. I have worked with a number of agents over the years, and finally screwed up my courage to fire my last one after the way he bungled my contract and almost lost the deal for me. (I have one children’s book published in 2001 by Cricket Books, and another coming out next year with Abrams Books for Young Readers.)
Writers spend so much time getting rejected — not just the agent query game, but reviewers can be brutal, too — along comes someone who says, “I love your work,” and the writer melts with gratitude.
There’s also the loyalty factor. If you felt helpless and powerless and an agent got you a contract with, say, Random House, you probbably always feel loyal and grateful. It’s not a usual business relationships, it’s much much more personal — writers spend YEARS trying to write a publishable book. Very different emotionally from renting office space and setting up a shop.
Anyway, I spent more than a year suffering through the decision of whether to fire my agent even after I pretty much concluded everything he said to me was a lie. I only summoned the courage after finding Dean Wesley Smith’s book, Killing the Sacred Cows of Publishing.
By the way, a few months after I fired him for incompetence, he got a new writer a half a million dollar book deal with a major publisher. I realized he wasn’t incompetent, he was just making a business decision to work on another client’s submission instead of reading and negotiating my contract.
May I make two corrections to my previous post?
I wrote quickly.
Thanks
Teri Kanefield
Teri – See if you’re able to edit now.
I couldn’t figure out how to edit — but no big deal. Other than a few typing errors (who cares) I got a piece of my chronology wrong: I found Smith’s book after I fired my agent. His book gave me the courage to go it alone because he (and Rusch) so eloquently explained things I had struggled to figure out on my own.
Anyway, I completely understand the way writers cling to their agents because I was there — until I felt my trust had been betrayed and I went from fawning gratitude to fury.
Woo-hoo! Tell us how your really feel, PG!
Seriously though, isn’t an agent running a self-publishing venture pretty much the same kind of conflict of interest as what Harlequin got smacked for — directing rejected authors to their in-house subsidy press? RWA, HWA, MWA all jumped on them for that.
I agree, there’s a dependent aspect to the relationships of some authors with their agents that reminds me uncomfortably of the way an abused child clings to their abusive parent.
Frankie and Laura – The difference is the publisher is not acting as your agent and doesn’t have the legal obligations an agent undertakes.
Check out my post on Agents and the Law at http://www.thepassivevoice.com/07/2011/how-to-read-a-book-contract-%E2%80%93-agents-and-the-law/ for more details.
Frankie, that’s exactly the comparison that came to my mind earlier today: How is a literary agency directing its clients to its own e-publishing venture (whether epublishing or “assisted self-publishing”) ethically different from a publisher directing rejected writers to its vanity-press venture?
I see more similarities than differences in terms of the ethical issues in those two scenarios.
The analysis is blunt, but spot on.
And I completely agree with the sensei analogy (yes, I have my black belt). Newer authors are not only looking for an agent to make that first sale, but mentor them through the first stages of their professional development (I know I am). And, of course, handle all that icky paperwork.
Sure, a deep friendship could start out of it, but it should always be, at its heart, a professional relationship as long as it’s about selling books.
And, frankly, dreamy-eyed and dangerously naive expectations by some unagented authors strike me as terribly unprofessional. It seems so based on emotion at the expense of pragmatism.
I imagine it helps to have a profession as your day job. It’s certainly given me perspective and grounded hopes for when I’m submitting manuscripts.
In the words of Michael Corleone, it’s just business.
I agree that’s it weird and icky (but it’s also absolutely nothing new) to see various writers and aspiring writers talking about literary agents as if they were religious icons rather than fallible (in many cases, VERY fallible) business associates. People tend to do the same with political figures. Think of the emotional hysteria at campaign rallies and party conventions when he candidate is speaking–you’d never guess from the shrieking ecstasy and tears that the subject at hand is actually, oh, legislation, public policy, budgeting, etc.
A person who declares they’d follow their agent’s advice even if they thought it sounded sketchy is not participating in a business association; that person is engaging in religious ecstasy–albeit in the secular disguise of pursueing or engaging in a profession.
A person actually pursuing a career would say to the agent, “This sounds sketchy. You need to make a better argument for it, and I’m going to research the matter. As matters stand, I can’t agree to it, precisely because your sketchy presentation isn’t convincing me that this is a good plan.”
I’m fortunate that all my efforts over the past 20 years to get an agent failed. It meant I had to develop the ability and confidence to deal with big publishers, to read and understand the implications of contracts, to make decisions about my Intellectual Property and how best to make it make me money.
In short – I grew up into a professional author. You can be a sensitive lovely creative AND a business person too. The two are NOT mutually exculsive.
You made me make my own blog-post. (Not really did it out of free will) I’ll post it here.
“I’ve read a blog post at The Passive Voice about how some writers act in defense of their agent. It stirred me to write a blog post of my own, because it’s something that bothered me since I started writing.
In the beginning as a fresh new writer, it baffled me that writers grovelled in the dirt to get an agent. They really did despair with each rejection and went into orgasmic highs when they landed an agent, and that without even selling one book.
I though at that time, if you are groveling and going trough all that misery of rejections why not submit directly to a publishers. The chances were the same as in getting an agent, only then at least you sold your book. Selling your book can justify yourself getting in orgasmic high, even to psychedelic drug use high, whichever you fancy.
However, the arguments given against submitting directly to the publisher is that they don’t take non-agent submissions. I think if you are already grovelling in the dirt to get things done, why then not ignore that one rule? Most don’t go against rules, because we are thought we need to follow rules at all cost. The publishers and agents know that, that’s why this rule exist, while the publishers still have their slush-piles for manuscripts send to them. If they like your book, they will not deny it just because it wasn’t send by an agent.
I’ve never understood the need writers have to consider their agent a business partner. To me they are like a salesperson, an employee, and one that ask too high a salary. I don’t understand why writers give them 15% of earnings and give them total control of their finances. Most Agents aren’t accountants or bookkeepers. Worse is the utter belief in the need of agents to negotiate a contract. They probably know as much about contracts as the next men or woman, because most are not literary lawyers, or studied law to know better. Why then the need to go down in the dirt on your knees, with you puppy eyes raised high to the mighty agent, if he is an employee of yours? I wish my employer would do that for me, I would have had a six figure salary by now, a bigger car, and a bigger house.
The way writers defend their agents seems like idolatry, and maybe it is. The writer the lowly supplicant, and the agent Saint Peter keeping the gate to heaven. I think part of what happens here is partly because the way we humans are bred. We are thought to be dependent, and in most of all things in life we are dependent on others. We don’t plant our own food, or make our own things, or repair anything ourselves. (exceptions excluded) We don’t even protect ourselves anymore, it’s the law and police that’s expected to do that for us. We are encouraged (some even forced) to learn at schools and follow the teachers every command, while critical thinking isn’t thought at schools. We are supposed to choose every so many years representatives that will govern us. We chose them so they will tell us what we may or may not do. This we think is common and normal. Responsibility and consequence (partially) is taken away from us humans, and that makes some(a lot) of use act weird when it’s completely illogical to do so.
We should open our eyes more to things going on, and believe less, and think more. The more we think the better we will lead our lives in our own favor. Writers should start think about what is happening and adapt to the changes happening around us. If they keep their idolatry they will get burned.”
The monopoly of access led to the deification of a class of people who–much like politicians–simply took on the role by calling themselves such.
If an otherwise unemployable English grad is where you want to bank your future and your career, then I support your pursuit of it. I’ve worked with a number of agents. I don’t need to ascribe a moral value to them. All I want is for them to sell something and give me my money. But as I look back on my career, I realize that every single deal I’ve ever gotten was one I initiated.
I used to think of the relationship as a partnership, but it’s not a partnership. The agent is an employee. You can LIKE your employee, but it’s dangerous to LOVE your employee. But many agents have forgotten who works for whom. I don’t like to come off as negative, because a good agent is a good agent. But they are only agents. Without writers, what are they?
PG,
You’re not crazy. The crazy ones are writers who so willingly put blind faith in -anyone-, even when the evidence contradicts the rationale for their faith.
Many writers seem to be the worst kinds of fundamentalists. Except they aren’t even fundamentalists for a religion, which is excusable. They’re fundamentalists for childhood, for believing that they can be just taken care of, and that everything will work out ok if they don’t think about it.
Those sorts of…I hesitate to call them people, or adults, because they’re really children…deserve exactly what they get.
Thank you for this post, PG. I love the religion metaphor. Wish I’d thought of it myself. I’ve made the mistake of trying to talk about this stuff in certain writer groups, and gotten smacked down for it. I guess that’s the “shut up, heretic” response. It’s interesting to see people repeating the dogma about needing an agent. They’re so emotionally invested in getting published traditionally and they believe you MUST have an agent to do so, and when someone like me comes along and says “I don’t believe it” they’re mortally (or is that morally) offended. Most of the time I ignore them. I figure there’s no use talking to them, since they’re incapable of rational thought on this issue — which is interesting because it’s the same tactic I use with religious fundamentalists. Now I know why.
Tori, we must have been talking to the same writers groups.
I am also invested in being “traditionally” published, so I understand the thinking.
However after firing my last agent, I discovered Smith’s blog and started querying editors myself. I don’t have a sale yet, but I’m making progress. I believe I will be able to sell my next books myself to traditional publishers.
Part of the cult comes from seeing success: If you follow the writers boards, you see the progress. First, a writer is querying. Then she lands an agent and celebrates. Then her agent submits her book and she bites her nails. Then she gets a deal and celebrates. She announced it on Publisher’s Marketplace. She gushes over with gratitude to her agent. Others see her and want the same.
I was one of those. I celebrated when I “landed” my agent, I celebrated when I got my deal. People watched me and queried MY agent enviously. The real story behind the scene, at least for me, was a nightmare. The traditional deal I got was not one my agent submitted. He gave me wrong information about the contract. He lied about a submission. All along, he was working on a HUGE deal for another client. I tried to tell people, and they listened, but they just thought I had bad luck, or my deal was a “small” meaning less than 50K one so of course my agent had better things to do than worry about my contract.
So I really do understand the cult of agent worship because you can’t read the deal listings on Publishers Marketplace without thinking that the right agent can and will get you into a major publishing house with a sweet deal.
TAK, I used to be invested in being traditionally published, a long time ago when I was young and naive and really wanted outside validation (I’m not saying others who want this are naive. But I was). I wanted so badly for someone to come along and tell me my writing was worthwhile (and by extension, that I was worthwhile). But I got burned out and disillusioned really quickly by that kind of thinking. I was writing for the wrong reasons, and I just couldn’t sustain my writing efforts under the stress that caused me. I ended up quitting writing for 10 years. I didn’t even read fiction during that time, except for a handful of books written by an author I loved. Everything else fell away. Fiction was dead to me. When I revived my love of stories and decided to write again, I vowed that I would do it for myself, for a love of writing, and not because I wanted or expected outside validation. It’s the only way to preserve my mental health.
In addition to that, I’ve always had a suspicious attitude toward agents. It seems few people share that attitude with me, but I guess I was born distrustful. So put those things together and I just have a hard time understanding the agent-worship I see in other writers. I can intellectually understand it and see where it’s coming from, but I don’t get it on a gut level.
TAK, what you said about the cult mentality coming from seeing others’ success reminds me of gambling.
“First, a writer is querying. Then she lands an agent and celebrates. Then her agent submits her book and she bites her nails. Then she gets a deal and celebrates. She announced it on Publisher’s Marketplace. She gushes over with gratitude to her agent. Others see her and want the same.”
Behavior associated with intermittent reinforcement (gambling and publishing) is very difficult to extinguish even when there are good reasons to give it up. Emotion is a more powerful motivator than reason (thus the frenzy at political meetings), and what often passes for reason is merely a rationalization of what we want to believe.
I think this may have set a record for the most comments on a single post.
Thanks for all the insights. I understand the subject better than when I wrote the post.
Tori, what’s weird is when people thing being agented is, by itself, “outside validation.” When I fired my agent, I ended up communicating with another of his clients who couldn’t part with him because she really enjoyed what she felt was the prestige of being agented — even if he didn’t sell her work.
I can see how the process of getting traditionally published can beat someone up. It took me 10 years to sell my first book and another 10 to sell my second book. Looking back, I believe it was because I worked with agents (a total of about 5 — all “reputable” in that writers fall over themselves gushing for their attention.)
Something was posted much earlier that I want respond to, something quoting the original writer defending Knight Agency. She said something about how her agent is invested in her career because when she makes money, her agent makes money. I have first hand experience with the problem with that sort of thinking. Suppose you get a standard contract with an advance of about 10K. Your agent at the same time has a writer with a contract on the table worth 100K. Both contracts take a LONG time to negotiate. It simply doesn’t benefit an agent to spend a few hours in negotiations to get you 15K instead of 10K. The money to the agent simply isn’t worth it, particularly when the same time spent on the big writer will yield a much larger payday.
So an agent’s best interest is served by sacraficing the extra 5K he might get me and spending his time working on the bigger contract.
You have to realize that people reading these posts are not going to agree with us, and they are going to see us as whining about our sour grapes. They will read what I have written and think, “She’s just sour because her agent put bigger clients ahead of her.” They will read the others and think, “They’re just sour because . . .”
Everyone has to learn in their own way.
[...] The second was a discussion of comments on Courtney Milan’s blog (she has a couple excellent posts about the perils of agents acting as publishers, btw), and one in particular that was almost mindless in its blind trust in a person who calls himself an “agent”, even to the point of not caring if that person’s dealings are sketchy. PG is astounded at that sentiment, as am I. [...]
[...] started the idea for this post going was the Passive Voice’s article entitled Your Agent Is Not Your Mommy. He’s talking about how many authors post about “my agent right or wrong.” (He’d [...]
[...] started the idea for this post going was the Passive Voice’s article entitled Your Agent Is Not Your Mommy. He’s talking about how many authors post about “my agent right or wrong.” (He’d [...]