About the Agents
A few people have emailed me privately to ask about how I got my agent. After answering a few times it occurred to me I could post about it here, and maybe answer the question for a few other folks that never got around the asking me about it. I am very happy with my agent, and happy to acknowledge the somewhat rocky road that led to that state of bliss...
I got my first agent (yes, this story features more than one) in the mid-90's, while I was a grad student. I attended a Washington Writer's Conference. There was a panel of agents, which I listened to with keen interest. After the panel, there was a session where you could meet the agents. I went up to two of them, presented myself, talked about my work, and - when they made polite noises of interest - I pulled out copies of my first novel manuscript. Both of them went home with it. One of them turned me down. One of the asked to sign me. So Marie Brown became my first agent.
Marie is a lovely person, with a long history as an agent. In particular, she specializes in work by African-Americans. That was appropriate for me because I am an African American and my first novel, Cicada, was a contemporary novel about an African-American family. Under Marie's wing I got a warm introduction to... well, to rejection letters. Yep. Rejection letters. Lots of them. Usually polite, but always rejections. I wrote a second novel, August Fury, that Marie also kinda represented. It was also contemporary and African-American, and likewise it never got anywhere. Didn't even make it as far as racking up rejection letters, really.
So... Time passes. I revise. I get rejected. I revise some more, get rejected some more. So it goes. By the way, I also lived and loved through all this. I paddled a lot of whitewater as a kayaker and raft guide, and I traveled in Latin America, the Caribbean, and in Europe. Met my wife in Scotland, got married, got pregnant... So life went on, as did the rejections.
Eventually, though, the leads Marie was working dried up. We went our separate ways. Time to give up? Nah, forget about it! I was a writer; the world just didn't know it yet! I began to work on an entirely new novel. What I ended up with was Gabriel's Story. I was still writing about black families, but this time I set it in the Old West, and shot it through with a good bit of drama, violence, movement. I was able to send it directly to a young editor at Doubleday, Debbie Cowell, who had liked my earlier novels. Actually, she had worked for Marie before moving to Doubleday, so she'd been an advocate for a few years already.
Anyway, I sent it straight to her. I knew she liked it, but she was going to have to convince the powers that be at Doubleday to agree - and they'd already turned down my earlier efforts more than once.
While they deliberated, Debbie suggested I look into getting a new agent. She put me in touch with one, actually, a guy that had placed a very, very (I mean very) successful book with Doubleday. (I'm not gonna say who, by the way, but believe me...) They had a great relationship, and they were making loads of money. I was thrilled. This is awesome, right? Here I'm getting an intro to a successful agent, and it's coming from a prospective publisher that has a great history with that agency. This guy calls me, chats, sounds great, and he says he'll read the book and get back to me.
Time passes. Deliberation continues. Agent-guy doesn't call. Eventually, I called him. What's up? Doubleday may make an offer any day now. Are you going to represent the novel if/when they do? Agent-guy says... "Ah, well... No. I'm got going to. I've thought about, and I see some problems with the novel that aren't easily fixable. I'm not confident Doubleday is going to buy it, and if they don't I'm not sure who would. So, sorry, but no."
Talk about ways to make a guy miserable. In the front of mind I thought his explanation of what wasn't working in the book was vague and silly and kind of a load of crap, but still, what if he was right? What if he knew stuff I didn't? What if Doubleday was going to say no yet again, and what if even my third finished novel wasn't going to see the light of day? What if I was actually going to have to keep my job selling Brit-pop at the Virgin Megastore? I did have a month old baby to support...
Okay, I won't wallow. Fast forward to the next week. Debbie calls me, Doubleday has finally had that big acquisitions meeting. They want to buy my book! (One week it's all misery; next week it's all joy - just like that.) Actually, they want to buy it and my next book. They lay down an offer, the terms, the money involved, and I - giddy, of course - agree to everything. (Not, by the way, a strategy I suggest.) Once that's done, then Doubleday suggests that I really might want to get an agent now.
They had a think on it, and connected me with Sloan Harris at International Creative Management. I couldn't have known it at the time, but Sloan was (and is) a guy on his way up. He's co-head of publications for ICM now, as described in this Variety Article. (Not bad for a guy that started in their mail room.) All I knew was that he read my book fast and called me with all the right kind of enthusiasm. He talked about the many things yet to come, and talked about the things I should think about long term. I suppose I could have looked into others, but I was sold. I knew of ICM as the agency of Cormac McCarthy and Toni Morrison and many more. If ICM is good enough for them... I signed on the dotted line again, and I've never regretted it.
You might ask, "Why get an agent when you'd already sold the book?" Answer: every reason in the world. Just selling a book - although a huge step - is only the beginning. It's like qualifying for the race, making the team, entering the game, etc. But there's so much to do thereafter that I can't imagine trying to navigate it all without a professional advocate.
ICM has a website, but before you rush off to contact them you should know that there's not much there other than a few addresses and a few contact emails. Not much. Nothing saying "Submit Here" or "Give Us A Call"! ICM is not really that type of company. While I'm talking them up, I'm not suggesting you start packing up your manuscript and call FedEx. Could I have landed Mr. Harris with a query letter before getting the offer? Nope. Not a chance. Actually, about the most detailed bit of information they have on the website is their "Unsolicited Submissions Policy". That goes as follows:
ICM has a policy that neither it nor any of its agents or other employees shall accept or consider any unsolicited material, ideas or suggestions of any nature whatsoever ("Unsolicited Materials"). Accordingly, you may not use this website or information obtained there from to submit Unsolicited Materials to ICM via any means (including, without limitation, via mail, fax or e-mail). Should you nevertheless contravene this express prohibition by sending Unsolicited Materials to ICM, please be advised that the Unsolicited Materials will not be considered by anyone at ICM, and if possible they will be returned to you with no copies kept. Unsolicited Materials will not be forwarded to or discussed with any third parties.
Ouch. That's not very friendly. What's up with these people? Well, what's up, I'd say, is that ICM is a very, very established agency. They have such an incredible client list that they won't even tell you who is on it. Snobby? Maybe, but I prefer to think that they've reached a position in the industry where they can be very selective. They just got it like that. They can find the clients they need through recommendations from existing clients, other agents, editors, etc. I couldn't have written to Sloan on my own, but with the Editor and Chief of Doubleday there to connect us, Sloan jumped on board with all the professional enthusiasm I could have asked for. I'm very pleased to have this particular agent and this giant company to look out for me, but I also know many authors that love being with smaller agencies. Both can advocate for you wonderfully - if the fit is right.
That's about my only piece of agent hunting advice - know that the fit really needs to be right, and know that that doesn't always happen quickly. My first agent might have succeeded with those early books, but if she had you might not be reading my blog now. I might not be here in the capacity that I am, or she might not have been the right fit as my interests diversified. And if that other unnamed agent had signed me just because of Doubleday's recommendation (without really believing in the book), what would it mean to be with a guy that didn't personally feel the material was publishable? Naw, I like the way things worked out, and can see now that the ups and downs were all formative in the right ways.
Oh, one last thing... Gabriel's Story was a bit more than just a publishable novel. Right from the start the reviews for it were great (three stars before publication, for example). It ended up being a NY Times Notable Book, on other best of the year lists, and won several national awards. It's been in film development for several years now, and just might make it to the big screen one day. It was a success in many ways. And it was the introduction of a writer that's done pretty well since...
So why didn't that agent see the potential? He claimed later - as I understand it - that he hadn't actually read the book. One of his readers did. It was that person that wasn't impressed. Maybe that's true. If so it was a mistake. Does this agent know that? Sure, he does. I happen to know that somebody made sure he got sent a copy of every positive review I received for a while thereafter...
I got my first agent (yes, this story features more than one) in the mid-90's, while I was a grad student. I attended a Washington Writer's Conference. There was a panel of agents, which I listened to with keen interest. After the panel, there was a session where you could meet the agents. I went up to two of them, presented myself, talked about my work, and - when they made polite noises of interest - I pulled out copies of my first novel manuscript. Both of them went home with it. One of them turned me down. One of the asked to sign me. So Marie Brown became my first agent.
Marie is a lovely person, with a long history as an agent. In particular, she specializes in work by African-Americans. That was appropriate for me because I am an African American and my first novel, Cicada, was a contemporary novel about an African-American family. Under Marie's wing I got a warm introduction to... well, to rejection letters. Yep. Rejection letters. Lots of them. Usually polite, but always rejections. I wrote a second novel, August Fury, that Marie also kinda represented. It was also contemporary and African-American, and likewise it never got anywhere. Didn't even make it as far as racking up rejection letters, really.
So... Time passes. I revise. I get rejected. I revise some more, get rejected some more. So it goes. By the way, I also lived and loved through all this. I paddled a lot of whitewater as a kayaker and raft guide, and I traveled in Latin America, the Caribbean, and in Europe. Met my wife in Scotland, got married, got pregnant... So life went on, as did the rejections.
Eventually, though, the leads Marie was working dried up. We went our separate ways. Time to give up? Nah, forget about it! I was a writer; the world just didn't know it yet! I began to work on an entirely new novel. What I ended up with was Gabriel's Story. I was still writing about black families, but this time I set it in the Old West, and shot it through with a good bit of drama, violence, movement. I was able to send it directly to a young editor at Doubleday, Debbie Cowell, who had liked my earlier novels. Actually, she had worked for Marie before moving to Doubleday, so she'd been an advocate for a few years already.Anyway, I sent it straight to her. I knew she liked it, but she was going to have to convince the powers that be at Doubleday to agree - and they'd already turned down my earlier efforts more than once.
While they deliberated, Debbie suggested I look into getting a new agent. She put me in touch with one, actually, a guy that had placed a very, very (I mean very) successful book with Doubleday. (I'm not gonna say who, by the way, but believe me...) They had a great relationship, and they were making loads of money. I was thrilled. This is awesome, right? Here I'm getting an intro to a successful agent, and it's coming from a prospective publisher that has a great history with that agency. This guy calls me, chats, sounds great, and he says he'll read the book and get back to me.
Time passes. Deliberation continues. Agent-guy doesn't call. Eventually, I called him. What's up? Doubleday may make an offer any day now. Are you going to represent the novel if/when they do? Agent-guy says... "Ah, well... No. I'm got going to. I've thought about, and I see some problems with the novel that aren't easily fixable. I'm not confident Doubleday is going to buy it, and if they don't I'm not sure who would. So, sorry, but no."
Talk about ways to make a guy miserable. In the front of mind I thought his explanation of what wasn't working in the book was vague and silly and kind of a load of crap, but still, what if he was right? What if he knew stuff I didn't? What if Doubleday was going to say no yet again, and what if even my third finished novel wasn't going to see the light of day? What if I was actually going to have to keep my job selling Brit-pop at the Virgin Megastore? I did have a month old baby to support...
Okay, I won't wallow. Fast forward to the next week. Debbie calls me, Doubleday has finally had that big acquisitions meeting. They want to buy my book! (One week it's all misery; next week it's all joy - just like that.) Actually, they want to buy it and my next book. They lay down an offer, the terms, the money involved, and I - giddy, of course - agree to everything. (Not, by the way, a strategy I suggest.) Once that's done, then Doubleday suggests that I really might want to get an agent now.
They had a think on it, and connected me with Sloan Harris at International Creative Management. I couldn't have known it at the time, but Sloan was (and is) a guy on his way up. He's co-head of publications for ICM now, as described in this Variety Article. (Not bad for a guy that started in their mail room.) All I knew was that he read my book fast and called me with all the right kind of enthusiasm. He talked about the many things yet to come, and talked about the things I should think about long term. I suppose I could have looked into others, but I was sold. I knew of ICM as the agency of Cormac McCarthy and Toni Morrison and many more. If ICM is good enough for them... I signed on the dotted line again, and I've never regretted it.You might ask, "Why get an agent when you'd already sold the book?" Answer: every reason in the world. Just selling a book - although a huge step - is only the beginning. It's like qualifying for the race, making the team, entering the game, etc. But there's so much to do thereafter that I can't imagine trying to navigate it all without a professional advocate.
ICM has a website, but before you rush off to contact them you should know that there's not much there other than a few addresses and a few contact emails. Not much. Nothing saying "Submit Here" or "Give Us A Call"! ICM is not really that type of company. While I'm talking them up, I'm not suggesting you start packing up your manuscript and call FedEx. Could I have landed Mr. Harris with a query letter before getting the offer? Nope. Not a chance. Actually, about the most detailed bit of information they have on the website is their "Unsolicited Submissions Policy". That goes as follows:
ICM has a policy that neither it nor any of its agents or other employees shall accept or consider any unsolicited material, ideas or suggestions of any nature whatsoever ("Unsolicited Materials"). Accordingly, you may not use this website or information obtained there from to submit Unsolicited Materials to ICM via any means (including, without limitation, via mail, fax or e-mail). Should you nevertheless contravene this express prohibition by sending Unsolicited Materials to ICM, please be advised that the Unsolicited Materials will not be considered by anyone at ICM, and if possible they will be returned to you with no copies kept. Unsolicited Materials will not be forwarded to or discussed with any third parties.
Ouch. That's not very friendly. What's up with these people? Well, what's up, I'd say, is that ICM is a very, very established agency. They have such an incredible client list that they won't even tell you who is on it. Snobby? Maybe, but I prefer to think that they've reached a position in the industry where they can be very selective. They just got it like that. They can find the clients they need through recommendations from existing clients, other agents, editors, etc. I couldn't have written to Sloan on my own, but with the Editor and Chief of Doubleday there to connect us, Sloan jumped on board with all the professional enthusiasm I could have asked for. I'm very pleased to have this particular agent and this giant company to look out for me, but I also know many authors that love being with smaller agencies. Both can advocate for you wonderfully - if the fit is right.
That's about my only piece of agent hunting advice - know that the fit really needs to be right, and know that that doesn't always happen quickly. My first agent might have succeeded with those early books, but if she had you might not be reading my blog now. I might not be here in the capacity that I am, or she might not have been the right fit as my interests diversified. And if that other unnamed agent had signed me just because of Doubleday's recommendation (without really believing in the book), what would it mean to be with a guy that didn't personally feel the material was publishable? Naw, I like the way things worked out, and can see now that the ups and downs were all formative in the right ways.
Oh, one last thing... Gabriel's Story was a bit more than just a publishable novel. Right from the start the reviews for it were great (three stars before publication, for example). It ended up being a NY Times Notable Book, on other best of the year lists, and won several national awards. It's been in film development for several years now, and just might make it to the big screen one day. It was a success in many ways. And it was the introduction of a writer that's done pretty well since...
So why didn't that agent see the potential? He claimed later - as I understand it - that he hadn't actually read the book. One of his readers did. It was that person that wasn't impressed. Maybe that's true. If so it was a mistake. Does this agent know that? Sure, he does. I happen to know that somebody made sure he got sent a copy of every positive review I received for a while thereafter...
Labels: Links, Random Ruminations, The Biz
posted by David Anthony Durham at
4:45 PM
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