Agents: Time, Time Ticking
Time, Time Ticking. Ticking Away. What happens after your agent begins selling you?
by Wendy Keller
You wrote the proposal. You’ve gotten an agent. Your proposal has been deemed worthy of presentation by your agent and his/her editorial people. You think it’s gone to New York, and other parts of the country, to meet its potential new editors. What’s actually going on and why won’t anyone tell you if it is sold yet?
Because it isn’t.
Here’s what happens, in infinitesimal, intricate detail so that you understand and never, ever ask your agent again what’s going on.
The agent has your proposal on his or her desk. Probably, you are not your agent’s only client. You might be the favorite. You might be the hottest. You might be the brightest. Your snazzy pantsuit might be the prettiest. But you are most likely not the only client. Your agent probably knows how to make you think you are, but alas! You are not. The first thing your agent does is hand pick, from memory, from friendships, from rolodex, from computer, from whatever method, the best editors in the country for your book. These are a combination of good friends, good houses, and just plain publishers who do work like yours. In a perfect world, all are going to be eager to see your work, and more importantly, still be in the jobs they had a month ago. (FYI, this isn’t a perfect world and publishing has one of the highest turnover rates of any industry. Right up there with coal mining canaries and the people who give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to wildebeest.)
I will have personally drafted a master query letter. It will be written using my best marketing techniques, a little Cialdini, a dab of Brian Tracy, some charm and perhaps a bit of wit.
The agent, in most cases, will now call and/or email each one of these editors, offering them the chance to read your fantastic proposal…and catching up on old times. The chit chat part is part of the business. Editors are people, too! They want to talk about the hydraulic elevator that always is sluggish in the Flatiron building, how badly they want a window office, what their son did at soccer practice last week.
Eventually, which in our case is typically two business days, all the interested editors will have your project. They will have agreed with me that breathing, eating and sleeping will be impossible until they have had the privilege of reading your proposal. I will put them out of their misery by having it sent.
A week later, I call the editors, ostensibly to “make sure they have it.” A week later, my calls resume. I may be calling to pitch another book by then, and oh, by the way, did you get a chance to read last week’s proposal? No? Oh, you’ll read it on the train on your way home? Terrific! When can I call you? And so it goes.
Meanwhile, they read it. If they like it, they tear it apart. Different department heads and colleagues read different parts. Marketing to marketing, chapters to editors, ashes to ashes, dust to… oh, no. That’s something else. While they are reading it, I am selling other people’s books. I am not in control of the process. Neither are you. You panicking and calling me daily will not make it easier, more fun or sell faster. It will also not make me like you very much.
I will “agitate the sale” as best I can. Once one of them expresses adequate interest, the proverbial fish nibbling on my line but not quite on the hook, I call all the editors who are still looking at it and immediately tell them they stand to lose out if they don’t act fast! Limited Time Offer! They invariably agree to read it at once.
On the side, chances are I am also collecting your rejection letters as we wait for the fish to bite. These will usually say, “You know, I like this but it just isn’t perfect…” If they do offer editorial comment, the same book will typically receive comments as diverse as, “This book is entirely too academic and dry. It needs to be warmed up” and the next letter – for the same proposal – will read, “The author is far too colloquial in his approach. We found that it sounded like a magazine article and not a serious book.” Ugh! Publishing is a subjective business, or there would only be one book on each category and Barnes and Noble’s entire inventory could fit on the TV table my daughter used to use to set up her lemonade stand at the end of our driveway.
Publishing is subjective because no two people see a book the same way. Your agent thinks it will sell, and is probably right most of the time. (Hard to stay in a 100% commission business if you’re mostly wrong!) But editors may not agree. That’s good, bad and frustrating. It’s also what makes an agent’s job fun.
Now that they’ve been warned that someone is interested, in many cases, all of them will read it fast. This means the deal is near. The agent smells blood, or in this case, ink. It’s the most exciting part of the process. A series of phone calls secure an offer. The agent calls you, tells you some of the deal points of the offer, you agree. You have a deal! You have champagne, the agent rolls up her or his sleeves. Now comes the real work time! Negotiations ensue. Each agency who has sold to that house before has an “agency contract” with that publisher. It shows them what the agent has gotten in negotiations with them before, so they know what to expect. (Yes, agents share secrets to help us help the publishers be generous with our authors!)
Once the agency has secured the best possible terms, the publisher agrees to prepare the contract. This takes a while. The larger the publisher, the longer it takes, or so it seems. The agent will get the contract first. The agent checks it for accuracy against the deal notes from the pervious conversations. If it is acceptable, s/he passes it along to you, the happy author. Once you sign it, it is sent back to the publisher. Then, when the editor’s boss’s boss’s dog is back from the groomer, and the publisher’s wife, who has been away in Italy all month, returns and finishes unpacking, and the girl in contracts – the part-time summer hire who controls the postage meter that they use to stamp the envelopes in which the checks are sent – all get back to work, then, finally, it occurs to them to send you a check. Actually, you don’t get the check. The agent does. This policy was established in the dawn of time, because authors, who are sometimes creative types, used to spend all the money and forget to send their agent the standard 15%. So the agents solved the problem by getting the check first, depositing it, and then cutting the balance to the author – usually within a few days.
Now, you have your first check! Another celebration, more champagne, much self-congratulatory behavior ensues. Now you raise your speaking fees, tout yourself as the author of the upcoming book by (your publisher’s name) to be released (you now know when!). Life is good! Enjoy the lull, because the baton has been passed again – back to you.
© 2007, Keller Media, Inc. Want to use this article in your publication? Reprints welcome so long as the article and by-line are reprinted intact and all links made live. Wendy Keller is a published author, professional speaker and literary agent. She helps authors and speakers make a difference in this world and she is behind the scenes supporting their efforts every step of the way.
Wendy has developed some of the best writing tools and seminars for authors available at http://www.kellermedia.com