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Thursday, April 20, 2006Part Two: Cinderella Never Makes It To The BallI should have known it was too good to be true, right from the start. The thing is, I knew absolutely, positively nothing about the publishing world. Absolutely, positively nothing. So when a literary agent read my self-published book and expressed an interest in representing me, it really did feel like a visit from my Fairy Godmother. Basically, it was a friend-of-a-friend sort of thing. Someone had read my book and passed it along to her friend, who happened to be an agent in New York. A few weeks later, I got a phone call. I know. It almost never happens that way. Even in my state of knowing absolutely, positively nothing, I had a sense that there was something "not normal" about this. But I took it as a stroke of good luck -- an unexpected blessing. And as such, I signed on the dotted line. Yes, this was a legitimate agent with three decades of experience. No, I wasn't charged a reading fee or duped into anything overtly unethical. The contract was a fairly straightforward, boilerplate contract. Except for two, not-so-tiny things: 1. There was no thirty-day, get-me-out-of-this-contract clause. 2. The contract was for -- are you ready? -- three years. Ask me if I knew how completely outside of the norm a three-year contract is. Ask me if I had any inkling, at the time, that I had just chained myself to a black hole of agent absenteeism. "I want to mentor you," my agent said into my hopeful, enthusiastic ear. "I enjoy teaching. That's why I speak at conferences." Good! I was ready to learn. "Your book is charming," she said. "Just charming. Send me six copies." I told her about my current work-in-progress (the sacred novel, as it were). "Wonderful. Send me the chapters you've completed so far." So, I sent the six copies via snail mail and the several chapters via email ("I don't normally accept things through email, Jill; I'm doing this as a favor."). Then, the silence began. At first, I assumed that the silence was normal. To be perfectly honest, I was intimidated. For all I knew, my agent might be the Hottest Thing in the literary world. I'd better crouch in my corner, thought I, and not disturb her while she works. After a while, the silence became uncomfortable. How was I supposed to know what was going on? Where did things stand with my non-fiction book? Did my agent remember that I existed? I emailed her. She did not respond. I shrank back to my corner. I emailed her again. She did not respond. You get the idea. Finally, we were able to schedule a phone meeting. 5:00 pm Eastern Standard. I was nervous all day long. I cleared my schedule and banished my noisy children to the nether regions. I gathered paper, clipboard, pen, and my cell phone. And I waited. She never called. No matter that I had cleared my schedule and lost about five pounds from nervous sweating. She never even apologized or mentioned the missed phone call. Not ever. On it went. For over a year. During this time, I finished my novel. In an unusual moment of actual communication, my agent told me to begin the edits on my novel and to send her my work, chapter by chapter, via email. "I don't normally do this," she said, "but I'm going to work on the edits with you. I'm doing this as a favor." (Had I asked for any favors?) So I worked. I sent the chapters. And my agent didn't do a single thing with them, other than let me know that they had arrived. Occasionally I'd get, "You are terrific!" or "You have done a beautiful job." Other than that, it was just more silence. She asked me to send the revised manuscript via regular mail. After weeks and weeks of silence, during which time I had naively assumed that she was pitching my story, she informed me that she hadn't done anything with it because I hadn't sent additional copies to her. Huh? About a week later, she changed her story. "Your story is not in any shape for me to sell it. I'd say it's about seventy percent there." I won't bore you with the play-by-play details of the rest of our non-relationship. From trying to hire me a topnotch editor to "tighten up the story," to charging me over $130 in office fees, to sending me copies of rejection letters from editors on which my name was spelled wrong (I kid you not), it was one big spiral downward. Somewhere along the way, though, I got smart. I started to research the publishing universe. I began to investigate the world of agents; the do's and don't's, the good, bad, and should-be-shot. I discovered Writer.net, Preditors and Editors, and -- my favorite of all -- Agentquery.com. And I learned an amazing things from the agented authors out there: Good agents communicate with their authors. And at the end of it all -- at the end of being held hostage by someone who didn't care a flying fig about me or about my work -- I made the terrifying decision to cut my agent loose. Half an hour on the phone with my lawyer gave me the information and the courage I needed to do it. Per my lawyer's advice, I sent my agent a friendly, to-the-point email. The basic message: Bye-bye! No response. I sent the email a second time. No response. So, I followed "the rules" and mailed a certified letter. Several days later, my now-ex-agent called me on the phone. She was -- to put it mildly -- irate. She yelled at me. She called me names. And then she hung up on me. Yep. That's how our relationship ended. Why was she so angry, you ask? Evidently, her computer was down when I sent the emails -- she was in the midst of moving her office (was I supposed to know this through osmosis?). She hadn't received the emails, so despite the fact that we had recently discussed my serious concerns with our relationship over the phone, the certified letter had blindsided her. "All my other clients called me. Would it have been so difficult, Jill, for you to call me?" she spat into the phone. "Um, you have a history of not returning my phone calls," I said. Funny -- she didn't have an answer for that. I'll give her credit for one thing, though. She was right about my manuscript (assuming that she even read it). Even two drafts later, it still wasn't ready to sell. I didn't need to spend thousands of dollars on a private editor, though. What I did need was a few unbiased readers, a couple of books on writing, and a strong, online network of writers to answer my questions and point me in the right direction. Wow. What a ride. Somewhere in the middle of all that drama, somebody said to me, "A bad agent is worse than no agent at all." I've heard that quoted many times since, and I can't emphasis enough how very true it is. My Cinderella story turned out to be a nightmare. But oh, have I grown. Writers need thick skins, and if my tenure with the Agent From Hell didn't do it for me, I don't know what would. (Well, okay, rejection letters have a similar effect.) Do I have a bad taste in my mouth? Absolutely not. I was born to write, and that's exactly what I'm doing. And I am, after all, a Yankee. I don't need sugar coatings to get me through the tough places; just hand it to me "New York Style" and I can take it. Really, I can. And -- if you're an aspiring writer -- so can you. Labels: writing |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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11of my readers are feeling chatty:
"All my other clients called me. Would it have been so difficult, Jill, for you to call me?" she spat into the phone.
So she was used to being fired then... she just preferred it be done over the phone ;-)
Man, talk about a nightmare. You ought to write a novel about that! Good luck, hope things get better. Don't give up!
I think I disliked that woman more than you did! I was soooo happy when you axed her. :-D
You know, sometimes those bad experiences make us or break us. In your case it made you. You will prevail in the writers world. I am looking forward reading your book.:)
Glad that's over for you and you are moving in the right direction! Can't wait to see it on the shelves!
Jerry -- ROFL! Excellent point.
Jill -- Thank you. Who needs fiction when the truth is so...gritty? :)
Kerrie -- I know! I should hire you as my...hmmmm, my what? Bodyguard? Administrative task force?
Iris -- Thank you, and you're right. And we usually don't remember that until we look back...
Jenn -- Thanks! And I will be drinking a cup of your coffee when I do book signings in Washington. ;)
Bap! outta the ballpark! WOO HOO!!!!!
I fully expect for your novel(s) to make it. You've got enough hutspa (sp?) to make it happen the right way.
When you land a real agent, give them my card. :)
"Long Live Perin Faye!" Dave said acerbically. LOL
Dave -- You're a member in my personal hall of fame. Honest. :)
It's "chutzpa." And I take that as a high compliment!
Hey Jill,
that's one rough road...glad you haven't lost your confidence or willingness to write. What's happening now with your books?
Wow!!!! I remember a lot of those issues...and I'm so happy that you made the choice to free yourself. Good for you Jillian! xo
I am learning so much about publishing. You wouldn't think it would be this hard, now would you? Ugh. If you want to exchange books sometime, for another opinion, I'm happy to do so. :) I'm working on book 2 now. We'll see how it turns out.
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