Link to the rest at The Guardian
Thanks to C. for the tip.
Link to the rest at The Guardian
Thanks to C. for the tip.
From Writer Beware:
Among the most common scams targeting self-published and small press authors these days are fake literary agency scams.
These are slightly different from the agent/agency impersonation scams I’ve written a number of posts about, in that they don’t appropriate the identities of real people (most of the time). But that doesn’t mean they’re not equally deceptive.
They work like this.
I’ve heard from writers who’ve spent $70,000, $100,000, $300,000, and even more on such frauds.
There are three components to a fake literary agency scam.
Here’s a real-life example.
Acquisitions NY purports to be a literary agency with a mission of “Empowering Authors Everyday…by providing contemporary solutions that have been tried and tested throughout time.” Its web domain was registered in July 2022.
If you visit Acquisitions NY’s website today, you’ll note that it’s bare of certain things a reputable agency’s website typically includes, such as a client list and a list of recent sales. In an earlier incarnation, those things were present…but oops…
Acquisitions NY removed the pilfered book images and testimonials, but continued to use them in solicitations for some time afterward, as you can see from this flashy document they were sending out as late as last December. (Here’s Virginia Lloyd’s testimonial page for comparison.)
In another theft, Acquisitions NY’s Who We Are page for some time falsely claimed real agent Ian Bonaparte of Janklow & Nesbit as part of its team. Again, they got caught out:
Ian’s (real) bio and (fake) photo are no longer on the website, but his name is still being used, as you’ll see below.
Acquisitions NY’s solicitations have varied over time, but the ones they’re currently sending out claim that authors have been chosen for “one of the most-coveted 10 spots” in the (entirely fictional) Mark Twain Literary Fund, which supposedly makes it possible for representation to be provided “pro bono” (which of course is not a thing).
Link to the rest at Writer Beware
Lots of links in the OP.
From Nathan Bransford:
Now then. Time for the Query Critique. First I’ll present the query without comment, then I’ll offer my thoughts and a redline. If you choose to offer your own thoughts, please be polite. We aim to be positive and helpful.
Random numbers were generated, and thanks to lovu_sarah, whose query is below.
Dear [agent name],
We all have things we regret in our life. Things that haunt our sleep and deprive us of peace. And all those actions we take that lead to those regrets are influenced by our surroundings, are they not? Or does the blame fall solely on us?
A BLAMELESS MURDER is a 65,000 words literary fiction novel that explores the life of a nameless girl in a nameless world in hopes of understanding why she became a killer at nineteen. It dives into her reasoning as to why she did what she did while the girl tries to guide the reader through every event in her life.
It is a conversation and it starts as if she’s talking to the reader; explaining how her whole life leads her to become that person at that specific point in time, much like The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe.
When I saw that one of your favorite authors was Carlos Ruiz Zafron I knew I had to query you. I grew up reading his work back when I was a little girl in the Dominican Republic.
I have included the first ten pages of my manuscript per your request. Please note that even though the book starts with quotation marks that are never closed in this short excerpt, it is not a typo.
Thank you so much for your time.
Here’s how I’d boil down this query by paragraph:
And…that’s about it.
The goal of a query letter is to inspire an agent to want to read your manuscript or proposal. The way to do that is to actually tell them about the book you’ve written.
Link to the rest at Nathan Bransford
From Publisher’s Weekly:
There was a time when the words “please hold for Sterling Lord” could be a tricky moment for an acquiring editor. How do you reject a manuscript from a relentless agent who specializes in launching bestselling authors?
When Sterling Lord died in Florida on Sept. 3, 2022—his 102nd birthday—the impact of his eponymous agency could easily be identified on the shelves of every American library and bookstore. He was best known as the agent who spent four years on the uphill battle to find a house willing to take on the risky business of publishing Jack Kerouac’s widely rejected novel On the Road. (Sterling even talked Viking up from its original $900 offer to $1,000.) From Kerouac and Ken Kesey to Doris Kearns Goodwin, Erica Jong, Gordon Parks, and the bear-centric Berenstains, his authors continue to be widely read and assigned at home and abroad.
Born in the Mississippi River town of Burlington, Iowa, at a time when you had to take a ship to get to Europe, Sterling launched the Sterling Lord Agency in 1952. It happened after he was fired from Cosmopolitan—which, years later, would be one of many magazines he’d help me and other clients break into. At the time, many major publishing houses were still owned by their founders, and the entire paperback output of the dominant publishers could be found on a single floor at Brentano’s.
I am writing at a disadvantage because I only knew Sterling for his last 54 years. (He began representing me in 1968.) Nonetheless, I think his against-all-odds story is as intriguing as many of the impressive bestselling biographies he agented, such as Ralph G. Martin’s Jennie, the story of Winston Churchill’s mother.
“I believed in Jennie, so the mound of rejections never discouraged me,” Sterling told me one afternoon as we were sitting courtside during a Knicks game time-out. “I kept telling myself that I was smarter than many editors. I may not have been smarter, but I had to believe that I was—and I had to really believe in the book—to keep on going.”
“Survival in publishing,” he said another evening, at a Hungarian restaurant overlooking San Francisco Bay, “is always a matter of timing. Whether it was a major triumph or a serious disaster, I would take only 10 minutes to moan or celebrate before moving on to the next client or the next deal.”
. . . .
He relentlessly pursued deals that became turning points in the lives of many of his authors. After On the Road made the broke Kerouac an overnight success, Sterling wired him bus fare for the ride from Florida to New York. That book has sold more than five million copies. When Stan and Jan Berenstain were not getting what Sterling thought they deserved from Random House, he secretly, without letting anyone in his own agency know, put together a $3.2 million deal with HarperCollins.
During Sterling’s nearly 70 years in the book business, there was just one surefire bestseller that never made it to the proposal stage, much less an acquisition editor’s desk: his own story. Ironically, the legendary agent who represented everyone from flat-out broke novelists to Teddy Kennedy, Howard Fast, and Jaqueline Susann did not work with a writer to publish his own biography.
Readers will never be able to learn all about how Sterling’s agency landed four of the top 10 bestsellers on a year-end New York Times list. Nor will they ever have a chance to get all the details on his four marriages, or his decision to quit Sterling Lord Literistic a few years ago to start a new agency with old clients like Lawrence Ferlinghetti.
Link to the rest at Publisher’s Weekly
PG is still around, taking the occasional breath and unable to stop being a smarty-pants when he makes blog posts about traditional publishing in all of its multi-faceted shortcomings.
Over the past several days, Casa PG has been invaded by a fast-moving flock of small offspring who are unable to prevent themselves from being irresistibly cute and displaying the exceptional intelligence they inherited from Mrs. PG.
PG hopes one and all had an enjoyable Christmas or other holiday of their choice. Extended exposure to cute offspring may stun PG’s sarcasm gene for a bit, but it will soon be pricked to attention by something stupid a publisher says or does.
And agents! How could PG forget about the schoolmarmish Miss Mannersessesses of the publishing world – dot this i just so and cross that t you missed crossing, keep your hands on your lap and your knees together and don’t forget to say pretty please whenever you disturb my professional slumbers with a phone call or letter. (Remember, no emails! Letters are required and must be in block printed form with absolutely no cursive allowed!!)
From Writer Unboxed:
[PG note: The OP is written by a long-time literary agent.)
As you can imagine, I’ve read a lot of manuscripts. How many? Many thousands, certainly. Generally, they are good, just not ready. Why not? There are eight common lacks but the last one is the hardest to pin down. It’s not so much a craft technique as it is a quality.
The missing quality is one that falls somewhere between insouciance and recklessness. It has aspects of courage and authority. It’s easier to say what it’s not. It’s not safe. It’s not careful. Few writers believe themselves to be writing timidly but like I say, I’ve read a lot of manuscripts. Most are quite readable or, looked at another way, unobjectionable. Not that a novel should offend readers, but neither should it make few ripples in readers’ minds.
In writing fiction, the learning curve is long and the bar to leap over to print publication is high. It’s understandable that over time many writers bend toward getting their fiction “right”. Maybe not a slavish fit for a given market sector but at least one that will smoothly please finicky gatekeepers. Not without art, no-no, and definitely with an original premise and solid craft but, in the reading, a product that dutifully shows high respect for everything from characters’ sensitivities to marketability.
It’s paradoxical, but the very values that would seem to make a manuscript acceptable can be the same values that produce a novel that isn’t particularly memorable. The quality of being memorable or—let’s be ambitious—timeless, doesn’t come about by writing safe. I don’t mean breaking rules, although there’s a lot to be said for that. What I mean is writing without regard to “don’t”.
Timeless stories are written with high authority. It’s authors who don’t apologize or wonder if they are worthy. They assume that they are and not only that, they have been appointed to tell us who’s who, what’s what, and to do that in their own quirky way and if you don’t like it then go jump in a lake. It’s as if those authors don’t care a damn who approves their novels but care like hell about the ache and joy of the human condition.
Proust, Woolf, Faulkner and Vonnegut did not write timidly. Tolkein did not think small. Bridget Jones, let’s be honest, is a drunk. Neil Gaiman doesn’t give a damn if you think he’s borrowing heavily from myth or fairy tale. Neither J.K. Rowling or Suzanne Collins care if you find their novels of derivative of others’ stuff. Angie Thomas tells it like it is, so take that. Mary Gaitskill, by no means alone, has no problem making you blush. And then there’s that fattest of middle fingers to middle brow literature, Lolita, a jaw dropper first published in 1955.
I’m talking about fearlessness, being recklessly independent of all expectations and at the same time utterly bonded to all of us. A lot of things get in the way of that, not just the intimidating standards of publishing—whatever those are—but authors’ inhibitions and influences.
Link to the rest at Writer Unboxed
From Electric Lit:
I’m seeking representation for my [300,000-word rhyming memoir / novel-in-grocery-coupons / famous literary graves calendar**] which is a cross between [Maid and Green Eggs and Ham / a bag of Halloween candy and that novel-in-texts you just sold / an apple watch and a mortuary pamphlet]. I was referred to you by [my cousin, who babysits your three incorr—admirably independent children / a writer you represented until you discovered his historical novel was actually The Diary of Anais Nin / Stephen King, if by referred you mean escorted off his property by security]. I thought of you for said [memoir / novel / calendar] because [I once saw someone who looked like you reading Angela’s Ashes in the Strand / you represent authors? / given the direction of publishing, I figured you’d get excited about something featuring famous authors, even dead ones].
Slogging away in this hair shirt they call a profession for fifteen years, I’ve racked up some impressive publishing credentials: [My work has appeared in the literary magazines Wish We Could Pay You and About To Fold and are forthcoming (I think) in Didn’t We Ghost You? and on my memaw’s PC / Last time I was querying, my prose poem “Shoot Me Now” went viral on TikTok / My Writer Affirmation Calendar sold out after Christo used the entire run to wrap a bookstore in an installation titled, “Despair”].
(Describe your memoir’s arc here. If it has no arc, use lyrics to an Adele song.) / (Describe your novel’s plot here. If it has no plot—wait, your MFA cost more than the Hope Diamond, and your novel has no plot?) / (Describe calendar images here. There’s no way you’ll be able to license those photos, but first things first.)
I look forward to hearing from you [in a few years when technology changes have rendered my manuscript file inaccessible / after I’ve given up and painstakingly published the book in a series of sand paintings / Is tomorrow good for you? I’ve canceled all my appointments and await your call].
Link to the rest at Electric Lit
From Nathan Bransford:
The antitrust trial over Penguin Random House’s proposed acquisition of Simon & Schuster is now in its third week. There’s a whole lot of coverage and smaller bits to chew on, and if you want a deep dive, Publishers Weekly and Publishers Lunch ($ link) have comprehensive coverage.
Just two of the eyebrow-raisers yesterday came when agent Andrew Wylie testified that he doesn’t do auctions, and when author Charles Duhigg asserted that authors don’t want advances higher than they can possibly earn out. (Um, yes they very much do).
But I also wanted to touch on two articles that discuss the impact on authors and the independent publishing ecosystem. Bookseller Richard Howorth argues in the NY Times that industry consolidation threatens the number of quality midlist books that get published, and Nicole Chung writes about the need for independent publishers to survive so they can nurture authors.
. . . .
It’s not personal, but it can really feel like that sometimes. Jillian Medoff talks about breaking up with her agent.
Link to the rest at Nathan Bransford
Lots of links in the OP.
From Writers Helping Writers:
Many authors would rather write a whole new novel than cram the one they’ve already written into a five-hundred-word summary. If I wanted to write a short story, I would have written one. Right?
The reason we hate writing synopses is because they’re hard. The reason they’re hard is because, more than any other tool available to us, they show us what’s wrong with the novel we’ve labored over for months, if not years.
The synopsis is the equivalent of a house inspector—that man or woman who walks around with a clipboard and goes through the house you thought you were ready to sell, pointing out all the structural issues you either didn’t know about or pretended weren’t a problem: roof damage, termites, a saggy bearing wall, you name it. You can do all the fancy writing in the world. If there’s something fundamentally wrong with your novel, it will come out in the synopsis.
That’s why we hate them.
That’s why most agents ask for one.
Reading a synopsis is the quickest way to know if a novel will work or not. It’s also the surest way to find out if the author knows what they’re doing when it comes to things like structure, causality, story arc and characterization—you know, those critical developmental issues you hoped wouldn’t matter.
Guess what? They do.
If your plot is anecdotal, it will show up in the synopsis. If your protagonist doesn’t have a goal that they’re actively pursuing throughout the story; if there are no stakes, a weak antagonist, a plot that’s bursting with too much superficial business and no depth—yup, the synopsis will reveal all of that.
If you, the author, are willing to see it, the synopsis will be that heart-sinking moment of truth where you can no longer deny that this house is not ready to sell, not by a long-shot. It needs help. It might even need to be razed to the ground.
Link to the rest at Writers Helping Writers
From Kristine Kathryn Rusch:
This past week I got one of those letters. Someone wrote to me to tell me how great his agent is and what a great deal his agent got him. Not for his novel, but for his movie option.
I get “my agent is great” letters all the time, but usually they’re about book deals. If someone feels the need to write to me about how great their book deal is and how I don’t know anything about traditional publishing anymore, more power to them.
I figure someone who feels the need to write to me about this stuff is actually hearing me, and is writing to their future self. Some day, that letter will come back to haunt them.
But this one, the one with the movie deal, made me feel sad. This guy was very careful to tell me that he was indie published with his books, that the agent reached out to him because his book is so good, and the agent got him the best deal ever.
I have no idea if the agent got him the best deal ever. I do know that the option sounds weird or maybe it’s the way the guy communicated it. There are four payments involved. Until this week, I had never seen an option agreement broken into four payments, the way that a book publishing agreement is broken up. This week, I heard of two such deals.
Let me focus on the email guy first. Maybe the guy didn’t understand what he was seeing (which is likely). Maybe he misunderstands that the first “payment” is actually for the option and its term, the second “payment” will be to seal the actual deal if there is one, and the third and fourth “payments” are due and owing on things like principal photography or distribution or something.
Or maybe the guy got a new kind of option, one that might be coming out of what I’m going to write about below.
I really don’t know, because, as I said, I’m speculating. I don’t want to see his deal. I really don’t.
The reason? He’s a new writer with an agent who approached him and who got a deal that paid, in the new writer’s words, “a lot of money.”
Generally speaking, “a lot of money” in movie terms equals a major loss of rights. For all I know, this guy got tens of thousands of dollars up front…and will not be able to license any part of his book until this option ends (or, in some cases, even past that. Yes, these deals can be bad).
Why am I concerned? Because of two things that hit the trades recently.
First, the Association of American Literary Agents changed their Canon of Ethics. For those of you who don’t know what AALA is, it’s a loose organization of literary agents. Unlike many organizations, AALA has no real teeth and honestly, no one really cares about them.
I’ll bet those of you once had literary agents didn’t even know the organization existed. It used to be AAR (the Association of Authors’ Representatives) and back then, its president was the agent who embezzled from me and half the science fiction field. So excuse me if I think little of this organization, even now.
However, I’m telling you about it because the organization changed its code of ethics…ostensibly so that it can diversify its membership. Publishers Weekly says that the change came “in the wake of an anti-racism workshop and a retreat taken by the board of directors.”
If they had simply said that they were trying to diversify by bringing in younger agents (read newer agents), then the change wouldn’t be as insulting as it is. But think about this for a moment: If this was only about younger (newer) agents, then nothing would have happened after the anti-racism workshop. But the idea here, which is so very New York publishing, is that the standards had to be lowered for people of color.
. . . .
Anyway, that’s not the most head-shaking part of these so-called ethics changes. The other head-shaking part is buried in the middle of the press release.
While AALA continues to advocate for a future where commissions on royalties and advances will sustain an agent, many literary agents currently struggle to support themselves by agenting alone.
Lookie this: “agents currently struggle to support themselves by agenting alone.” Yep, that’s right. Traditional publishing deals have gotten smaller, the terms have gotten worse, almost no one earns royalties anymore, so AALA has decided that an agent is now
any individual employed by a literary agency–including members of contracts departments, accounting departments, and other teams within agencies engaged in the support of author care….
And…an “agent” can now provide “editorial services for a fee” to any writer who is not a client. If that writer becomes a client, then the agent must refund the fees. Of course, there’s no timeline on the refund. If you want to see how the AALA is negotiating this bit of garbage, look at the flowchart at the bottom of the Canon of “Ethics.”
These aren’t ethics. This is an organization that’s trying to continue to get its dues and to provide some people whose job no longer has relevance with cover.
The point that I really want you to see here, though, is this.
Agents struggle to support themselves on agenting alone.
Link to the rest at Kristine Kathryn Rusch
PG has mentioned this before, but will do so again.
There are no qualifications or licensing requirements for literary agents. None. Someone can walk out of prison one day and start working as a literary agent the next day.
If an agent acts unscrupulously, serving the agent’s needs and benefits at the expense of the author/client, nobody can make the person stop being an agent.
There is a remote possibility that an author could persuade law enforcement authorities in New York City investigate the agent’s behavior as a crime, but PG wouldn’t advise holding your breath while waiting for that to happen. The New York City Police Department just released crime statistics for the city which indicate that it may not be prioritizing literary agent misconduct:
Overall index crime in New York City increased by 31.1% in June 2022 compared with June 2021 (11,073 v. 8,448). Six of the seven major index-crime categories saw increases, driven by a 41.0% increase in grand larceny (4,467 v. 3,168), a 36.1% increase in robbery (1,548 v. 1,137), and a 33.8% rise in burglary (1,279 v. 956).
Here’s a link to Kris Rusch’s books. If you like the thoughts Kris shares, you can show your appreciation by checking out her books.
From Jane Friedman:
You’ve been told the first fifty pages of your memoir can make or break your publishing dreams. . . . So, you’ve active-verbed the hell out of your sentences, sharpened your imagery, and made sure every period is correctly placed.
But when the queries aren’t answered, or they’re answered with an unhelpful “thank you for submitting, but it’s not right for me,” you wonder what’s missing from your manuscript.
The beginning of every memoir must hook the reader, establish the setting, and reveal the situation and stakes. Most writers work tirelessly to develop these elements. But spending all your time at the beginning of act one might mean you’re looking in the wrong direction. Instead, try studying the end of your manuscript. Your closing pages shouldn’t just reflect all you’ve learned, or the triumph you feel—they must reveal your story’s resolution.
Once you know what you’re resolving, you can establish a clear path for getting there. This is essential because most openings are revised to death in an exhaustive line-by-line edit. The tedium of this process can cause you to rush through the rest of your manuscript, resulting in a middle that sags and an ending that flags.
Even if your opening pages light up an agent’s enthusiasm, that fervor will quickly wane if the writing that follows seem like it’s not going anywhere specific. Sadly, beautiful sentences can’t hide this issue. That’s why you must know your destination, no matter how your memoir is structured.
In artfully rendered manuscripts, the opening and closing pages give the story a sense of symmetry. Screenwriter Blake Snyder . . . says, “[The opening image] sets the tone, mood, and style … and shows us a before snapshot of him or her.” The before snapshot is the narrator in full problem mode, well before they’ve figured things out. “The final image is the opposite of the opening image. It is your proof that change has occurred and that it’s real.”
. . . .
In The Glass Castle opening, Jeannette Walls avoids the homeless, dysfunctional parents she ran away from at eighteen. By the end, the entire family eats Thanksgiving together, showing that her shame has morphed into acceptance.
Link to the rest at Jane Friedman
Or, you could format your well-written and polished memoir, hire a freelance cover designer to make a terrific cover and publish it on KDP and never worry about trying to impress a name-dropping New York agent.
And keep all the money.
From Writer Unboxed:
You may know me as Greer Macallister, bestselling author of historical fiction, but lately, I’ve taken on another identity. I have a new book out (you may have heard of it) and as the author of Scorpica, my identity has shifted in two key respects: my name on the book jacket is G.R. Macallister, and it’s not historical fiction, but epic fantasy.
All in all, the genre shift has been a pleasure. I wrote something ambitious, complex, and satisfying, proving to myself I was capable of something entirely new. As to the less-pleasant aspects, I went in with my eyes open. I knew that putting out a new book in a new genre, different from the one in which I’ve established myself, would require flexibility and patience. Of course that’s what’s needed as an author in general, but the genre switch put extra pressure on both of those character traits, to say the least.
Do I regret changing genres after four books (while reserving the right to switch back at any time)? Not at all. But do I have advice for those thinking about making the switch? You bet.
If you’re an author with an established readership in one genre looking to publish in another, here are three things to watch out for:
Don’t underestimate the time that it takes. Maybe if you’re shifting between subgenres this might not be an issue, but in my case, making the move from writing historical fiction to writing epic fantasy wasn’t just about writing a different book. It was about learning to write a different kind of book, almost from the ground up. Reading up on current fantasy was a fun task to assign myself, but it was a task nonetheless — hours and hours of reading, to fit in among all the other reading I do for work and for fun. So that’s a bunch of time up front. Plus there’s…
You might need to shake up your team, which takes even more time. The agent who has sold all of my historical novels is fabulous and wonderful, but she doesn’t represent epic fantasy, and the publisher who published those books doesn’t really do adult fantasy either. Which meant it wasn’t just the writing itself that was different, but every other aspect of managing and selling this new book. My incredibly kind agent gave me the go-ahead to connect with a separate agent just for my fantasy work, and my agreements with both were written to accommodate the other, and it’s been a dream so far. But making that dream happen through querying and negotiation took an extra half-year on top of the writing work, and without extraordinary luck it could have been much worse. Other friends shifting genres have had to leave old agents and find new ones, or strike out on their own with self-publishing ventures, and both of those are even more time-consuming. And on top of that…
Link to the rest at Writer Unboxed
From Anne R. Allen’s Blog… with Ruth Harris:
Here’s some advice for those who feel they are missing out on one of the basic building blocks of a successful author’s career: Rejection.
For those who feel they are not paying their dues.
For every writer who is not receiving an adequate, soul-satisfying number of rejections, try these pro tips to help you pump up your pathetic, wimpy R-score.
From the gory, surgical details of a tummy tuck to the onslaught of grammar Nazis and an attack by vicious sabertoothed cave rats, you must heed the advice of everyone in your crit group.
By all means pay attention to advice from “experts” who know almost nada about your book or your genre.
For example — the James Bond fan who wants “more action” in your sweet, sensitive romance about disabled teenagers looking for love.
Or the James Patterson reader who wants shorter chapters in your elegant, carefully-considered literary deconstruction of Finnegan’s Wake.
Be sure to give in to the devastating ego destroyers whose nasty tone and censorious delivery cause you to go to bed for a week and even contemplate suicide. They must know what they’re talking about, don’t they, these hit-and-run drive-by “authorities” who aim right for your confidence?
Heed the amateur shrinks who want to know “motivation” of every character including the guy behind the counter at Dunkin Donut who serves a Double Chocolate Donut instead of the Boston Kreme Donut your adorable but scared alien from another planet ordered.
The counter guy must be suffering trauma cuz he screwed up the order. Or is he enduring an unhealed childhood wound? Or did he just get fired from the rotten job at DD he needs to pay the rent?
And what about the adorable but scared alien? Where is his family? His parents or grandparents? Does he have siblings? If so, where are they? What happened to them? If not, why not?
To guarantee producing an unreadable mess, and sure fire instant rejection, be certain to pay attention to every comment and your dreams of infinite rejection will come true.
. . . .
Your villain makes Hannibal Lecter look like a pussycat.
Your victims are so vulnerable, defenseless and forlorn they will make a stone weep.
The prose sparkles.
Your grammar is of such flawless perfection a revision of Strunk & White is being published at this moment to acknowledge your excellence.
The whole manuscript has been edited so scrupulously it contains not one single typo.
Your use of the Oxford comma and the activating hyphen are impeccable.
You’ve worked for years, neglected your spouse and children, let your dog go hungry and unwalked.
You’re survived without food and sleep.
The time has come at last for submission. Which lucky agent will get first look at the best horror/thriller/mystery ever composed in Word/Pages/Scrivener?
Still determined to bulk up your wimpy stack of rejection slips? The answer is obvious. What you want is an agent who specializes in — Ta Da! — Romance.
If you might just conceivably be interested in getting the best horror/thriller/mystery ever written actually published, why not do some research first?
Find out which agent(s) specializes in your genre. That agent will be up on all the latest developments in the market you’re trying to break into and will have close contacts with the editors who are looking for exactly what you write.
Link to the rest at Anne R. Allen’s Blog… with Ruth Harris
From Publishers Weekly:
As an immigrant woman of color, I wouldn’t have considered negotiating my author advance (and, indeed, didn’t in 2015, when I pitched my first book without an agent). Five years later, when I went through an auction for my second book, I was lucky to have an agent represent me. But as I reflect on the process—and talk to white author peers with similar professional backgrounds as mine—I imagine that having a young woman of color represent me could also have led me to receive a lower offer than my white peers. Many of my white peers could—and did—take years off to write their books, funded by their advances alone. I wrote my manuscript in the depths of the pandemic, while managing an out-of-school three-year-old and continuing to work on my business full-time to pay the bills.
I’ve dedicated my life to creating inclusive workplaces, so facing bias and exclusion in my own career feels particularly painful. It’s no secret that the publishing industry is very white: 85% of acquisitions editors are white and nearly 90% of books published are by white authors, according to a 2020 New York Times piece. Author advances are opaque, and publishing expert Maris Kreizman says deals are made on “mostly a gut feeling.”
How much of a gut feeling? Well, in June 2020, the viral social media campaign #PublishingPaidMe revealed just how inequitable author advances can be.
L.L. McKinney, a Black woman, urged other authors to share the sizes of their advances. The results revealed staggering disparities between the advances offered for debut books by women of color authors and those by white authors.
Two-time National Book Award winner Jesmyn Ward, a Black woman, tweeted she had to “wrestle” her way to a $100,000 advance after winning awards. By contrast, Chip Cheek, a white man, tweeted he received an $800,000 advance for his debut.
Advances in publishing illustrate how, like in any industry, those who are given more money are expected to perform better; they’re given the resources to succeed. These advances reflect what sort of authors publishers think are “worth” taking chances on.
. . . .
Link to the rest at Publishers Weekly
Yet more evidence that traditional publishing is a racist, sexist mire that all decent people should avoid like the plague or toxic effluent or pimples or Covid.
From Jane Friedman:
Every year, countless people attempting to write their first book will reach out to me directly and ask if I’ll read their work and tell them what to do next.
The request is perfectly natural, especially for those who know me in some way. I’ve spent 20+ years in the writing and publishing community, and my name gets around as an expert. Yes, I can often read something and know exactly what a writer should do.
But here’s the real superpower: I often know what writers should do without reading a single word of their work.
Here is what I say, assuming it’s someone’s first book.
Maybe your loved ones have told you to write this book, or you’ve long wanted to give voice to a story or an experience—or share your expertise. Possibly you’ve been holding onto a story idea for years and now you finally have time to realize it on the page.
But as you get started, uncertainty creeps in. It’s hard to keep moving forward, alone, as innumerable questions arise. Questions like:
You might be seeking a verdict on your effort or validation of the idea, or even permission to continue. Maybe you don’t know much or anything about writing and publishing and feel it’s better to secure guidance before making any further investment of time and energy. You don’t know what you don’t know, and you want help. Hopefully encouragement.
You’ve just taken the first step in a long journey. Right now, you’re likely at a delicate stage, where I could either crush your dreams or provide that encouragement.
To write, to create something, then open it up to the judgment of others, requires courage. I hope you continue, but at the same time, I have to be straight and honest that most people’s dreams of what will happen with their book do not come to fruition because they give up early in the process. At some point, the criticism (both constructive and not-constructive), along with rejection, arrives. And what so often determines success is what you do in response. Will you shut down and stop, or will you grapple with the challenge and grow?
If I were to tell you today that your project is a waste of time, would you abandon it? If so, perhaps it’s best that you did. To keep writing in the face of rejection is required of every professional and published writer I know. I can offer encouragement and tell you it’s a wholly worthwhile endeavor—and that will be true—but to achieve results that spell success (especially on a commercial level) requires more than my blessing or validation or permission. It requires an inner drive that pushes you forward no matter what feedback you receive. In the end, I believe it requires enjoyment of the writing process in and of itself—to see that as the reward.
Link to the rest at Jane Friedman