Another Day, Another Agent

Today was my first generic rejection. Actually, that's not bad, considering the fact that I've been turned down about a half dozen times, and this is my first "dear writer" letter. Still, it's tough when you gage everything based on the quality of the rejections. When I look at the number of rejections most people rack up before getting their work published, it gives me hope. Dr. Seuss was rejected something like 84 times. So there.

You like me, you really, really like me

Agent #2 passed on the project. I'm actually okay with that, for a kind of backward reason. The woman I knew who had her as an agent wrote a truly terrible book. Now, I know I've decided never to be a book snob again, but this thing really wasn't good. It was a young adult book, and she told me that she never planned to write YA, but she thought it would be easy since it's just "dumbed down" adult lit. That's a huge pet peeve of mine, since good YA lit is it's own important, if undervalued, genre. Of course, it's not her agent's fault that she feels this way, but somehow I always connected the two of them in my mind.

Of course, when I think about it, that should make it worse that she turned me down. She supported the author of an almost unreadable book (really, this thing sucked) but she doesn't want me. And then there's the fact that she must be damn gifted to get that thing to publication. Yup, now I feel like crap.

Here's the thing though, I really do see this like dating. It's all about finding a good match, and as with on-line dating, sometimes you don't get past that initial first impression.

Agent #3 - A Big Kid

Agent #3 is a rock star big kid agent. He's one of those who only looks at query letters through referrals from current clients. I'm fortunate to have a connection of sorts who's willing to send along my query (God willing without all those funky problems that seem to be plaguing the text I've been sending out). I'm not too nervous about this one because he's a long shot, and I really can't get too worked up over being turned down by someone who deals with A list clients to begin with. Not that I don't consider myself A list material...you know what I mean.

Agent #2

A sample chapter just went out to Agent #2. I actually sent her a query letter almost ten years ago for another book I wrote, a memoir of my experiences in Italy. I really didn't know anything about the process back then (as if I do now) and I shudder to think what that letter looked like. I wasn't ready to pitch the book at all, but a writer I had met several times offered to put in a good word for me, and I figured it was worth a shot. Needless to say, she passed.

But, now I'm back again. I didn't mention the old pitch, or her old client, because she has a new agent now, and I have no idea if they ended things on good terms or not. I figured it was best to go at this one blind.

She liked my proposal and she wants to see the first chapter, so that went out today via e-mail. Come to find out though, my e-mail has been doing screwy things, putting all kinds of characters in the text and taking out punctuation. Way to look professional.

We won't be holding our breath for Agent #2.

A book and no publisher, a publisher and no book

In a strange twist of fate, I met a woman at a dinner party who's a publisher. She's really interested in publishing a historical book that I've been floating around ideas for for quite a while. Her agency only deals with history, and we got into a fantastic conversation which, I realized at some point involved me pitching a book idea to her. It's great that she wants it. It just blows that they don't do memoir as well. Or have contacts that do. Or somehow shift time around so that I actually have time to write this great historical book. Life is just so odd sometimes.

Carpet Bombing Agents

Today I went through Writers Market and carpet bombed agents. I got as far as the "E"s and then stopped. I don't want to hit them all only to find out that there's some major flaw in my proposal. There are a finite number of agents out there after all.

One of the ones I emailed was an A list agent. I figured it was probably a long shot, but what the hell. After I sent the query I got a form response telling me that due to the busy nature of the firm, I shouldn't expect a personal response. Twenty minutes later, I got a personal response. He liked the query and wanted my first three chapters. I sent those, and a few hours later, he replied back. He's passing on the project, but when I shot him an email asking if he had any pointers to pass along, he did. Just that bit of human contact was really nice in a world of form letters. I don't mind that he passed, I'm just thrilled that he took the time to write to me.

All in all, a good day.

Writer's Conference: A Blind Date With the Popular Kid

I didn't go into the Writer's Conference with high hopes of instant contracts and fame. OK, maybe in the deepest corner of my brain I remembered driving by Danielle Steele's house in San Francisco and thinking, shit, if she can get published, I sure can. Now, I'll never be a fan of Ms. Steele's, but after enduring a day of pitching my book, I honestly don't think I can ever look with contempt at any published writer. I don't care what they write, just the act of getting it out there is feeling so herculean right now that I'm finding myself coming to the defense of writers I hate. At least they had the balls to put it out there, and that's a lot.

So, the day began with an amazing poet who gave a slide show of his life as a poet. He was inspiring, and I think we were all left with a bit of a "let's run out there and write great verse" kind of feeling after seeing him. That was the last time I felt that glow all day.

At lunch, I was scheduled to pitch my book to an agent. When I looked up her info on line before the conference, I just knew it was going to be a disaster. She specializes in romance for one thing. She also just so happens to live in the affluent town that in some ways represents the "bad guy" of my story.

The fist line of my query is, "Someone must have liked seventh grade, but in my time on the planet, I have yet to meet that person." Well, that person was sitting right in front of me. Late forties or maybe just a tad older, perma tanned in that "just got back from the Bahamas" kind of way. Perfect hair, killer diamond ring...I know, that could describe a lot of people, but think of that girl in high school who lived for the Junior Social and worked to ensure that the balloons matched the streamers exactly on the prom committee. This is her, grown up. Somehow, those people can always seem to sense a high school misfit in their midst. Maybe my un-manicured nails gave me away, or that little bit of residual baby spit up that I just can't seem to get off my black sweater. Whatever it was, the vibe was off from the minute I sat down. I started my pitch and she listened for a minute before stopping me.
"I have to be honest and tell you off the bat that this isn't a project I'd be interested in. It's too hard a sell, and I just don't feel like you have a strong platform."
Now, I've read a ton of publishing books, but somehow I missed the part about platforms. I figure I can make a good educated guess though, so I start talking about professional communities I'm a part of, and ways that I feel I could promote the book.
"That's not what I mean," she said. "I like my authors to come to me with a strong media presence. For example, last week a woman was attacked by one of her students. She'll be able to sell her book."
"I just duck well." I smiled. "So, are you saying that if I get attacked, we might have something?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying."
I figured we were probably done. I shook her hand and thanked her for her time.

The worst part was that out in the lobby, other people were waiting to go in and they were all looking for hints as to their own fates. A thumbs up, a tearful explosion of emotion, something. I talked to one of the guys I had been waiting with who was there to pitch a multi-generational war saga. I told him to play up any bodice ripping and he might get somewhere.

Later, five agents spoke as part of a panel. They were all pleasant and professional, but, as expected, what they had to say was discouraging at best. There's less than a 1 percent chance of getting signed by most agents based on the numbers they were throwing out there. I don't know where that would put me in comparison to being struck by lightning, but I'm going to guess my chances in a field in a heavy storm would be better. But then, I kind of knew that. Some of their advice was a bit obvious, like, "make sure you include your name and contact info with your book proposal or query." Come on, who wouldn't do that?

After the panel, I talked to one agent who told me straight up that the ubiquitious first year teacher memoir is something she gets tons of every week. I get that. We teachers are a navel gazing bunch and we do tend to like to write. But, people buy those books. Or, at least, they seem to based on the number of them out there. The agent told me to go ahead and send her my book proposal, with an emphasis on why this isn't like all the rest. Note to self: do some soul searching to figure out why it's not like all the rest.

Another agent I spoke to went to my college. That was a good contact, and a proposal is headed his way. But, I was embarrassed to tell him that it's a first year teacher memoir. I'm starting to feel like that's there with the "how I got abducted by aliens" memoir. I left things pretty vague.

Then, in the parking lot, I started talking to the other agent from the panel. She asked what my book was about, and I told her that it's the "ubiquitious first year teacher inner city memoir, with out the Michelle Pheiffer violin playing." (This, by the way, is NOT a way to pitch a book.) Amazingly enough, she said she'd like to take a look at it. I told her I could send it, or I could give her the copy I had with me (the one that was earmarked for the agent who didn't want to read it.) I figured that if she could read it over the weekend it would be less likely to end up on a sludge pile in her office.
"I'd love to take a copy of the proposal to read this weekend," she told me.
Score one for me.

In the car driving home I realized that, because that one didn't have a cover letter, it didn't have my contact information.

Yeah, that sucked.

Was it a good day? I guess that all depends on ones definition of good. It was a great learning experience, but all in all it felt like a series of bad blind dates. I hate the feeling of being rejected by a romance agent. I mean, it's clearly not a good fit, but still, I want to be the breakup-er not the breakup-e.

How this thing got started

So, I wrote the book. Well, I guess that's not entirely true. I'm still writing the book, but I've done enough drafts of it at this point to call it finished, even though every time I pick it up I cringe at something that's so glaringly wrong I can't believe I ever wrote such trash. But, that's the insecurity talking. On better days, most days, days when I'm not trying to sell myself to agents, I really like it. The trick though, I'm discovering, isn't having a good book, or even having a great book, it's convincing agents that said book will make a ton of money without them having to put in a lot of effort. And that really isn't easy.

What's the book? I'll post the query letter...at least this is today's version. Who knows what it will look like in a week when I realize that it's drivel, that it's horrible, that it's hopelessly wrong in every way. (That's not insecurity talking, by the way, that's just the reality of rereading things with the benefit of more expertise, which I'm getting every day.)

Interesting...I can't seem to paste the query in here...That will come later. Suffice it to say it's the story of a first year teacher, me, working in an inner city school. The book grew out of a year's worth of journals, "The Spam of My Life" that helped me to survive that first grueling year with my sanity more or less intact. Those journals then became the basis of my graduate thesis, and, later, the book which is still a bit of a work in progress. Writing the book was never a choice. I just had too much that I needed to vent, and while Brian is a patient husband, there's only so much, "guess what lunacy happened today?" that anyone can take. Besides, I needed mass quantities of support. In the course of the year I accidentally dropped a student who skipped school for almost two months, I stood by while one of my Cambodian kids stared at the board every day, because he couldn't speak English and I don't speak Khmer, and I dealt with more than my share of court appointed advocates, parole officers and the like. But, I do know how to "Throw down the 'B' sign" now, and while that hasn't come in handy yet, and I expect it won't, it does make watching MTV a bit more informative. You know you've been teaching in a city too long when you find you relate better to your Bloods because of their "underdog " status in relation to the Crips.

But, this blog isn't as much about the book as it is about the process of getting it published. At least, that's the plan.