My Three Agents

Everyone who writes with an eye to publication has to, at some point, think about the people that populate the path between the page and the press. This includes agents, editors, publicists, etc. The thing all of us have to remember is that, believe it or not, they are human too.

A couple years ago, when I had put the finishing touches on The Old Mermaid’s Tale, I set about the process of finding a literary agent. In the cyber age this is somewhat less laborious than in times past. After dozens of “doesn’t sound like the sort of project I...blah-blah-blah”, and being totally ignored by even more than that, I got a call from a man in New York who LOVED what I sent him.

I checked him out and what I found was good - a former editor with a BNYP, now owned his own agency, had represented some names I actually recognized. Wow. I felt so blessed.

I mailed off the total manuscript and a week later he called me. He LOVED it - loved it, loved it, loved it. Tight writing, sympathetic characters, he found my heroine enchanting and my other main characters colorful and engaging. He said the ending was “touching and filled with hope”. He had great hopes for it. After another month of frequent phone calls expanding upon his plans, he disappeared. A year went by, out contract expired. and I never heard from him again.

On to agent Number Two. Same story, good credentials, sold a manuscript that was subsequently sold to Hollywood and made into a creditable film. Loved the book. Loved Clair, the main character - said he could see Charlize Theron in the part. Off to a whiz bang start and then - poof - he pulled the vanishing act.

By Agent Number Three I learned a lesson - don’t sign a contract that will lock you into a relationship with one of the “disappeared”. He also loved the book and had great ideas but I was less willing to just turn it over to him. Which proved to be a good thing because he turned out to have “more on his plate” than he could handle, as he put it, and, after extravagant apologies, he said he’d “see what he could do” as time allowed.

While all of this was going on I was keeping busy with Novel Number Two and the annoying business of making a living. Good thing. I guess the thing is if these three people, all of whom have solid backgrounds in the New York book biz, hadn’t been so generous in their praise of both my writing style and my story, I might be willing to just say “oh well” and move on to other things - at least to other stories - but I can’t help but think that this novel has potential.

From the many friends who have read it there has been no shortage of praise and very little criticism. I’m old enough and wise enough to know that the adulation of friends is beautiful - but not always deserved. But when these NY guys liked the book, too... What’s a poor novelist to think?

I suppose even New York agents are entitled to a life and to not be able to sell a manuscript just because they happened to like that manuscript. To them my book is just one among many - to me, well, it’s something I can’t quite give up on.

So right now I am working on the short story collection. Recently I read in The New Yorker that short stories have become popular again. But I still think about Clair and Baptiste and their world and think “maybe someday”. I have a feeling those characters aren’t like the agents I’ve known - they aren’t about to give up or to go away.

Thanks for reading.