Home » Agents, Passive Guy » Want an Agent? Here’s Your Chance!

Want an Agent? Here’s Your Chance!

6 December 2011

Yesterday, Passive Guy received a comment from frequent visitor Julia Rachel Barrett about being asked by a reviewer who loved her books why she didn’t have an agent.

Since he’s always trying to be helpful, PG will conduct a blog-enabled therapy session for any and all insecure authors.

- As of right now, PG is your literary agent. You didn’t even need to ask him to be your agent because he immediately recognized your talent and, besides, he hates reading queries. PG requires no contract. He also hates reading manuscripts, so you don’t need to send yours. Via blog magic, he’s just your agent.

- PG is stupendously talented in many, many areas. He makes good popcorn, for example. But, alas, he’s not a very good agent. In fact, he’s not going to do anything for you. He won’t sell your manuscript. Forget about ever having him answer his phone or respond to an email. If you’re ever in New York, don’t look him up and eat by yourself.

- Taking off his bad-agent’s hat and putting on his lawyer’s hat, PG strongly recommends you fire any agent who doesn’t do good work for you.

- Feel free to fire PG as your agent in the Comments. Or you can do so telepathically. If you want an agent overnight, you can fire PG tomorrow.

- For the remainder of your literary career, if anyone ever asks why you don’t have an agent, you can say you had one, but you fired him because you can do better on your own. If they ask who your agent was, you can respond that your chi remains more balanced when you don’t linger over past disappointments and you’ve closed that chapter in your life.

Now, take three deep cleansing breaths. Don’t you feel more confident and self-assured already?

Agents, Passive Guy

81 Comments to “Want an Agent? Here’s Your Chance!”

  1. You are SO fired. Next time, maybe you should try replying to my queries in a reasonable amount of time. What? what do you mean I never sent any to you? of course I didn’t. You’d never reply to them if I did! But if I had sent one to you, you should have at least had the decency to get back to me.

    Um.

    I may want to keep you on as an occasional Intellectual Property Lawyer if that’s okay? Yes, I’ll send you a query when I want you to look at something for me. No, of course I don’t expect a reply within six months…

  2. Oh and thanks for the popcorn…

  3. I feel so much better now! ;)

  4. I feel a little jaded now, but at the same time, I’ve learned something. I’m not the fresh-faced young author I was. Thanks, Passive Guy.

  5. Thanks, Passive Guy, but no thanks. I’m not even going to fire you. When I get asked why I don’t have an agent, I laugh. And I say “Are you kidding?”

  6. Sorry PG, I can’t use you as my agent since I’ve already (not) signed with Sydney T. Cat aka Bad Agent Sydney. http://badagentsydney.blogspot.com/ ;)

  7. You’re fired! Man, I really do feel better already.

  8. I am so not dwelling over how I almost sent you the next book I haven’t written yet. I am one with my chi. And I even have yoga in an hour to not dwell over it some more.

    :-D (I love it when PG gets surreal.)

  9. This blog makes as much sense as some of the moaning and groaning I’ve heard about agents’ form rejections. The agent is always wrong, they think.

  10. Bartholomew Thockmorton

    Huh? I’ve considered you my agent for quite some time now!
    And you’ve done such a great job of NOT screwing up my career, I’m gonna give ya a raise!
    From now on, I’ll pay you double on evert story or book that passes the 1,000,000 copy mark!
    Ain’t that wonderful?
    No, no, don’t thank me!

  11. But…but.. I don’t *want* to fire you, PG! *sad face*

  12. Why would I fire you? You’re doing a far better job than other agents. You don’t even take a cut and you do the same work. *ducks incoming fire*

  13. When are we meeting up for gimlets?

  14. Wow, PG, you sound exactly like my last agent. Except for the popcorn part. He never gave me popcorn. Okay, so you’re better than my last agent. Cool. I am so in the zone now.

  15. No one has ever asked me but you are fired. I so appreciate your writing and your posts. Thank you with all my heart. Big hugs.Muuuuwwwaaaaahhh!

  16. I always wanted to fire someone but I can’t fire PG. Even though he’ll never sell a manuscript to the Big 6, there’s no better site to get info on the trends and ins and outs of the publishing world. And that’s a lot more information than most agents provide their clients.

  17. Keep those firings coming.

    You can fire PG as your agent while keeping him as your blog buddy.

  18. PG, I love your blog, I learn so much here, but you’re not selling my books. You’re fired, but let’s keep in touch, k? You can bring the popcorn for my million books sold party.

  19. Actually you had me at “therapy session.”

  20. Since learning that you’ve been using the pages of my manuscript as insulation in your walls, and my little pink phone messages have been turned into a collage that now hangs on the wall of your favorite bar, and you’ve re-gifted all the lovely (and might I add “expensive”) Christmas presents I’ve sent you over the past 15 years, I’m giving you only one more chance. My new book is in the mail, winging its way to you. It’s a paranormal true-crime cookbook for those who love zombies and dogs, just as you requested–and yes, I did use the pen name you told me to use, though I still worry that Amanda Hocking might sue.

  21. You have already violated the cardinal rule of agenting–you have communicated with the author! And not just one author, but dozens. For shame. And you call yourself an agent?Btw, I thought I needed an agent, but I don’t, so you’re fired!

  22. Let me think about taking you up on your generous offer… can I get back to you in about three years? :)

  23. You are a riot!

    I’m not looking for an agent, but I do have another insidious idea in mind. (Yes, it’s legal.) I’ll email you in a minute.

  24. OMG! I am cannon fodder over here! Just kidding! Okay, if you wanna be my agent, you gotta do the following:
    1. Address me as Madam J.R. Barrett, Esq. I get to call you – To Whom It May Concern.
    2. Stick your tongue to a frozen lamppost and stand there until you hear from me.
    3. Buy me very expensive imported chocolates.
    4. Wear a kilt while you’re standing with your tongue stuck to the lamppost.
    5. If you ask me a single question with your frozen tongue, your ass is so fired!
    I’m glad I provide you food for thought!

  25. Hahahaha! Okay PG, you’re fired! Do I sound like Trump? I feel so much better now. =o)

    You make a good point with this. The only reason a person would want an agent right now is because there still seems to be this lingering need for one – for validity or something. It’s this idea: “I have an agent, and a publisher, so I must be a real author now.” But it’s not just the writer. Even during these changing times, I am running into people, not authors, who still seem to think you need to be “verified” by an agent and a publisher in order to be a “real” author. This kind of thinking is still out there and I’m just wondering how long it is going to take before it is completely gone. It it ever is.

  26. PG wrote: “In fact, he’s not going to do anything for you. He won’t sell your manuscript. Forget about ever having him answer his phone or respond to an email. If you’re ever in New York, don’t look him up and eat by yourself.”

    You sound remarkably like a couple of my former agents. Except that, in exchange for this, they demanded 15% of any books that I sold–which quickly got very expensive for me. (Reason #107 that I quit working with literary agents.)

  27. I tried to fire you telepathically, but you are obviously blocking my telepathic calls. Pathetic. You’re fired.

  28. It’s posts like this that make me a daily reader of PG. You rock! Oh, and you’re fired.

  29. No offense, PG, but I think the burden of proof that you make good popcorn is on you. Simply saying you make good popcorn borders on hearsay, so get popping. I like mine with no salt and extra butter. While you’re fired as my agent, I’m still collecting evidence about deciding to fire you as my popcorn popper. :)

  30. PG, you sound EXACTLY like my ex-agent.

  31. Thanks for this. It’s so much better to have had an agent and fired him than never to have had one at all… I really appreciate you taking the fall for all of us!

  32. 1) Funny PG/agent joke.

    2) You’re fired!

    3) More banter.

    4) Make PG feel better by reassuring him that I value and treasure his blog posts.

    5) Even if he is the worst agent ever.

    6) Come to think of it, you’re double-fired!

    Did I do it right?

  33. PG finds it strangely liberating to be fired so many times in a single day.

  34. Hey, PG, seeing as my three-year response window isn’t up yet, you’re still my agent. I’d like to send you a copy of my new book, which you – ironically, as my non-agent! – helped me publish. Something about a stellar blog and great information about the state of indie publishing. I even credit you in the acknowledgments (no lie). :D Ok, now where’s my popcorn~

  35. You’re not even hired. I neither require nor desire an agent. In fact, I find it insulting that you think me so desperately incompetent at running my own business that I would need to take you on as an agent at all.

    Hmmph.

    That’s the last time I come read one of YOUR posts!

    *stomps off in a huff*

    I may, however, send you a query about your legal services at some point down the road. Hope you don’t mind.

    ;)

    As always, great post. Keep up the great work!

  36. I’m laughing too hard to fire you. Best blog post I’ve read all week.

  37. Cute! I certainly needed a laugh on this subject. Thx for providing it!

  38. You can be the second agent I fired, PG. I am truly high on the author pyramid!

    You’re funny–for a lawyer. ;-)

  39. HaHaHaHa! That’s a good one! Sorry, but I’m not interested in signing with an agent right now. Perhaps another author will be interested, someone who likes popcorn, although you might have to actually make that popcorn to prove yourself. There. I wrote a rejection letter. I feel better already. :) Thanks, Passive Guy!

  40. ROFLMFFRFOBYASDF

    Yes, I invented that one. See if you can figure out what it says. Yes, the last F stands for Funny, because the Passive Guy deserves a spot on Saturday Night Live.

    Wayne

  41. PG: You obviously need to get more telepathic lines installed in your brain. I tried to think my firing to you, but kept getting a busy signal.

    In any case, this just isn’t working out. You’re fired.

  42. Dear Agent PG,

    Thank you so much for the opportunity to review your qualifications. I appreciate being given the chance to read such a stellar resume.

    I am afraid after much careful consideration, I am going to pass on your expertise in this field. While I felt your qualities to be exemplary, as befitting an agent in this day and age, I felt your qualifications were not unique enough to compete in this market. As you know the agenting market is really tough right now and agents have to have star-quality and the ability to answer the phone. I’m afraid popcorn popping just doesn’t fit with our list of prerequisites.

    I appreciate being given the chance to review your application and I wish you all the best in your endeavor.

    Sincerely,
    Anne Gallagher

  43. “In fact, he’s not going to do anything for you. He won’t sell your manuscript. Forget about ever having him answer his phone or respond to an email. If you’re ever in New York, don’t look him up and eat by yourself.”

    OMG.

    You sound just like the two literary agents I’ve had, and fired.

    I’m sorry, PG, but stupidity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Doesn’t mean it’s not fun, though.

    You’re fired, my dear.

  44. And yet I feel like we barely knew each other.
    And you didn’t give me any time to procrastinate soooo, consider yourself fired..well not now, of course, and next week is so seven days away, and maybe definitely I’ll send you a telepathic firing after the holidays. So January 1st..most probably.
    And I’ll picture you in that kilt when I do it ;) .

  45. Wow, thanks for being my agent! I’ve never had an agent. In fact, I don’t even want an agent. Reading Dean Wesley Smith’s series on agent myths converted me to the independent professional method. But now, when people ask, I can say that I used to have an agent, without having to explain that agents are an incredibly bad idea.
    And, since I actually don’t need an agent, I’m letting you go. Because of the economy. Have to cut costs, you know.
    Thanks! I actually feel better!

  46. Wait one minute.

    You don’t require a contract, think I’m great, and won’t do one thing to manage my career?

    Are you kidding? You are on my permanent staff for life. You’re going to have to quit in order to stop being my dream agent.

  47. Dang, I’m finally somebody! I have an agent!

  48. Why on earth would I fire you? You’ve already done at least as much for me as my last two agents combined.

  49. De-lurking here – OMG, that’s hilarious! I didn’t know I had an agent but you’re fired anyway. (Sorry, don’t believe in telepathy!) And I love my popcorn with lots of butter!

  50. Sadly, you actually did more work for me in that post than a previous boss. You didn’t ask me to do my work plus yours. :p

  51. Never ever thought I would get an agent and now I finally have one I hate having to do this; however pleasant our relationship was, a real partnership of non-communication, I regret to inform you, you’re fired.

  52. From another P.G., P.G. Wodehouse in The Old Reliable (Chapter 18)

    ‘Tell me, my dear Toppy, have you ever seen a man in a fur coat, with three chins, riding in a Rolls-Royce with a blonde on each knee and smoking a five-dollar cigar? Because, if so, you can be pretty sure he was a literary agent.’
    ‘A what?’
    ‘A literary agent.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘A literary agent — or authors’ representative — is a man who sits in an arm-chair with his feet on a desk, full of caviare and champagne, and gives a couple of minutes to the authors who come crawling in on all fours, begging him to handle their output. Should he consent to do so, he takes ten per cent of the kitty.’
    ‘What kitty would that be?’
    ‘I refer to all emoluments received from these authors’ works, which amount to very large sums indeed. Thus, we will suppose that this authors’ representative sells a story by some client of his to a prominent editor for — well, taking a figure at random, forty thousand dollars. His cut would be four thousand.’
    ‘It sounds like a jolly good show.’
    ‘It is a jolly good show. Four thousand bucks for telling his secretary to shove a wad of typescript into an envelope and address, stamp and mail it is unquestionably nice sugar. And it’s going on all the time.’
    ‘All the time?’
    ‘Practically without cessation. You would be astounded if you knew the amount of money that pours into the coffers of an authors’ representative. New clients every hour of the day coming in and pleading to be allowed to give him ten per cent. Well, take an instance. He is sitting in his office one day after a lunch of nightingales’ tongues washed down with Imperial Tokay, and in comes someone whom for want of a better name we will call Erle Stanley Gardner. He says: “Good afternoon, my dear authors’ representative, would you as a favour to me agree to accept a tenth of my annual earnings? I should mention that I write sixteen books a year, and if only I can get out of the habit of eating, I think I could work it up to twenty. In short, counting in everything, serial, motion picture, radio, television and other rights, I should imagine that your take-home pay on me alone would be at least fifty or sixty thousand dollars per annum. Will you accept me as a client, my dear authors’ representative?” And the authors’ representative yawns and says he will try to fit him in. “Thank you, thank you,” says Erle Stanley Gardner, and goes out. And scarcely has he left than in come Sinclair Lewis and Somerset Maugham. They say: “Good afternoon . . .” and — well, you get the idea. It’s a bonanza.’

  53. PC. If I can keep you on the 0% net, non-exclusivity and a full requirement that anything you do on my behalf needs me to sign first…I’ll keep you.

    I mean face it, you’re already more qualified than 25% of the crowd, just with the popcorn. Not to mention that your honesty level is head and shoulders above the rest. If you’re never touching the checks or the royalty statements, you can’t skim off them. Not to mention we will always know that you’re still alive, due to the blog posts. I mean, I’ll be able to confirm you still exist in all due haste.

    Given the state of things now, sure, I might keep you! After all, if I ever need to I could fire you, if need be. But if I opt to go with Amazon and Smashwords for publication, I can always opt to fire them too.

    Man, oh man… it’s kinda nice to be the one in control of the big red button!

    -Knave

  54. I love popcorn. I’m never firing you!

  55. Oh, my I so need an agent… NOT! :-)
    Why would a reviewer ever bother if the writer has an agent or not???
    Puzzled Author

  56. Due to your abysmal performance as my agent, I feel I have no other recourse than to fire you. Thank you for showing me that there is absolutely nothing you have done for me that I cannot do for myself.

    Needless to say, our lunch at the Russian Tea Room has been canceled.

    You’re right. That does feel pretty good! ;)

  57. You make good popcorn?!? Oh, man, that alone is worth 15 percent. I’m in!

  58. Sorry, PG, but I have to agree with xdpaul and others–you seem like the perfect agent!

    But, I suppose there’s the exercise to consider, so, you are fired! I never wanted an agent anyway!
    However, I reserve the right to hire you again–without notice–should I ever feel the need for an agent.

  59. Hah! You’re fired!

    Wow, now I can say I had–and fired–a well-known West Coast agent!

    It’s been a good day.

  60. You’re fired! You can take that imaginary contract and shove it up the chimney for Santa! YEAH!

    Catharsis is a beautiful thing.

  61. I can’t believe I missed this.

    PG, you’re fired. You completely dropped the ball on those negotiations for Liechtensteinian film rights.

    I hope we can still be friends.

  62. [...] agents and editors: Passive Guy, Dean Wesley Smith (on agents) and how we should demand some respect from editors (again Dean [...]

  63. Good one, PG. How does it feel to be fired by so many? Oh, and BTW you’re fired!

  64. Hey, I’ve never dropped two agents in a year. Sorry. I can’t resist. PG, I adore your posts, but you’re SO fired. (And hopefully this time there won’t be a huge fuss.)

  65. Dear PG,

    Since you clearly don’t understand my artistic vision and aboslutely refuse to send my latest brillian work to Brothel, Feed and Harness Publishing, I must regretfully terminate our relationship.

    Good luck and I hope you find your newbie author who hits the next Rowling so you may get paid for d-all work.

    Regards…

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