Stating the Obvious

Can we all just stipulate that pretty much everyone in the publishing industry wants to make money? (Stipulate is what the TV lawyers say. ;)

There are some very popular bloggers who've gained disciple-like followings by railing against agents and traditional publishers. Also, some of my writers' loops have been inundated with posts from authors complaining about how publishers or agents or retailers (especially Amazon) are just in it for the money, and how these various entities are behaving in ways that support their own interests.

To which I say, "DUH!"

What I don't get is why some--not all--of these posters seem to think that wanting to make money and caring about books/authors are mutually exclusive.

Sure, not every person in the world loves what they do for a living. Lots of people work in jobs or industries because they landed a job there and need to learn money; and so they plod along, caring little for the products or services their employers provide. I used to be one of those people.

BUT, I would assert that this is less true in the publishing industry than most other industries. Why? Because frankly there just isn't that much money in it. Or at best, the risk/reward balance is skewed such that more people earn a very small living than a great living. You don't go into a business like publishing unless you love books. You don't become an agent unless you love reading and writing and authors and books. I read a discussion recently about how it's almost impossible to become an agent or editor unless you have a trust fund or spouse backing you, because the money's so bad or non-existent for the first many years... (That discussion was about whether this "wealthy white New Yorker" preponderance in the industry biases "taste" and what gets published... but I digress.)

It is also true that the big publishers are now mostly all owned by huge multinationals whose CEOs and shareholders probably don't care about books all that much... but editors and publishers, from everything I've observed, are fighting the good fight for books within these huge corporations.

All that said, I think it's the railing against agents that bothers me the most.

I'm not meaning to suggest, for an instant, that agents' motives are altruistic, but I am sick, sick, sick of hearing authors make anti-agent arguments using, "They just want to earn more money."

Of COURSE they freaking do!!! What kind of fairy tale land are you people living in?

Given all the changes happening in the publishing world right now, I'm very interested in discussions about the pros and cons of some of the recent developments... agents being publishers, retailers being publishers, and everyone trying to figure out what's fair in terms of splitting the proceeds from selling a book in the digital age, and whether agents should earn their normal commission if authors self-publish a book the agent once sold (many years ago) or tried and failed to sell, and whether a publisher can consider a book "in print" paying an author a tiny royalty on a book they aren't promoting, but have up for sale on their website...

All important topics. All interesting. Lots of turmoil and new industry "norms" will undoubtedly be worked out over the next several years, and yes, we authors have to stand up for ourselves and our interests as this all works itself out...

But in these discussions, can't we all just stipulate that everyone involved is out to protect his or her interests and turf? That everyone wants to maximize their potential for earning a living? Including authors? Isn't that obvious?

Trying on Agents

So, back in 2009, I wrote a post on another way to look at agent hunting that got a lot of traffic on this blog. It's still a post I'm pretty proud of and with some editing, might try to turn it into a tongue and cheek article for some bigger writing sites or magazines...

But something I've been keeping largely out of the public eye is that last summer I decided I wanted a new agent. It's a long story, but I decided to make the change at a time when everything was in serious limbo for me. Very scary.

I'm not planning to tell my personal saga here... (Although I might at some time and it does have a happy ending.) What I wanted to make a brief comment on are the great tools that are out there now for agent hunting.

The last time I was on the hunt, the new thing was agentquery.com. You no longer had to buy those big books! And that site is still great. Also back then, there was a very new kid on the block, querytracker.net but it was one I was highly skeptical of. You want me to store the list of agents I'm planning to query in your database? And then whether or not they request and how quickly? Who are you? How can I trust you? No way....

But when I found myself wanting to research agents again now, I went back. And boy had it improved in the intervening four (five?) years. Awesome. Highly recommend it, and paying the small fee to have the "premium" service with no ads and some extra bells and whistles I found very helpful.

And using it I came up with yet another silly analogy about agent hunting: Agent hunting is like clothes shopping. Just as fun. Just as frustrating.

You browse through query tracker, a fabulous, well laid out boutique where everything looks so chic and fabulous. "Oh, I'll take one of those!" "Hey, I think I'll try that on for size." "Oh, that one would really bring out my eyes, I mean character arc."

And then, just like trying on clothes (for me anyway) as soon as you get into the change room, reality strikes. Most things don't fit. Or the store doesn't have your size and you don't even get to try your favorite on. And sometimes the ones that looked best on the hanger end up looking the worst once you've tried them on. It almost feels like some of the clothes hate you. It feels personal.

But when you find that perfect fit? Magic.

Happy to say I now have a new agent. Charlie Olsen of InkWell Management. And while I took very few choices with me into the change room, I think I found the right fit.

Agent Hunting -- A different view

Recent angsty questions on some of my writers' loops got me thinking about how timid writers can be when they're agent hunting.

Yes, while on the hunt, often it feels like agents have all the power. Even once you've got an agent, it can take a while before that power imbalance starts to stabilize (depending on how your respective careers are going). But one thing writers often seem to forget is who works for whom.

To remind us, I thought it might be interesting to boil the agent hunt process down to the business basics.

First, at the risk of going all Econ 101 on you, the reason the power feels out of balance is a matter of supply and demand. That is, there are more aspiring writers and manuscripts, than there are qualified agents. Ergo, agents are a scarce commodity, and even if they're looking for new work, many can afford to be picky when choosing new clients. The more successful they are, the pickier they can afford to be.

But the scarceness of the supply, doesn't change the substance of what's going on when a writer is agent hunting. It doesn't change the fact that the writer is the potential employer and the agent the potential employee, essentially making the agents job applicants.

(Okay, the writer/agent relationship isn't exactly like an employer/employee relationship... but come on, go with me...)

Let's say you're a writer with a manuscript in need of a publishing contract, (and it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a manuscript in possession of good words, must be in want of a publishing contract), and let's say you're not currently represented by an agent. If you're in this position, you've got a job that needs to be done--the job of shopping your work and landing a contract. Some writers will chose to fill the agent position themselves, instead of hiring from outside the firm, so to speak, but savvy writers will have noted that the chances of landing a great publishing contract goes up if they hire an expert, a sales specialist, to handle the part of the transaction.

So, let's say you've decided to find an agent. To attract qualified applicants for this position, you need to advertise. But because you're picky, and smart, and don't want to waste your time interviewing just anyone, you don't put the ad up on Craig's List, you target your want ad directly to those people you hope will apply for the job.

These specialized want ads are called "query letters". Agents currently looking for more work, who were lucky enough to receive one of your ads, and who think the job sounds like one for which they might be qualified, will respond, effectively applying for the position.

But before the applicants can be seriously considered for the job, each must pass a test administered by the potential employer. To pass this test the agent-applicants must demonstrate they understand and love the employer's product and have a plan to find an editor who will feel the same way.

This employment suitability test is administered via something called a "submission", and typically the potential employer lets the applicants choose whether to complete this submission test in a one-stage or two-stage process. For example, less confident applicants (or applicants whose offices are particularly cluttered) might chose to start with a sample of their potential employer's product, often called a "partial", while others may decide to take the entire test at once by requesting to review a "full". Some applicants are so eager, and/or competitive, they ask the potential employer to take all the other applicants out of consideration for a set period of time. This is commonly referred to as an "exclusive", and employers may choose to accept or reject an applicant's exclusivity request.

Agents who pass the submission test are granted the privilege of moving on to the final interview stage, often conducted over the phone, but sadly, many agents fail the submission test.

Why the high failure rate? Can we assume the quality of the agent applicant pool is low? No. It's more complicated than that.

Selling works of fiction is a passionate process, passion's a tricky thing, and sadly some applicants fail to find the requisite level of passion for all the products they apply to represent. Some discover they don't share the same taste as the potential employer, and didn't enjoy the product as much as they'd hoped. Some reach the conclusion that the quality or uniqueness of the product is such that they fear their sales skills will prove inadequate to place it. Still others might fall in love with the product, but don't believe they have the specific abilities and/or contacts with the right editors to do the product justice.

Yes, there are many reasons why agents fail the submission test, but there's no reason for agents to feel ashamed about this, or take it personally. Sometimes the fit simply isn't right. ;-)

Agents who fail the submission test send a letter to the potential employer to announce their withdrawal from consideration for the position. Occasionally, if the agent feels particularly demoralized, he or she might fail to withdraw their application in writing. In these cases, the dejected agent sends out passive-aggressive signals, such as breaking off all communications and/or not reporting their test results for an extended period of time, assuming the potential employer will deduce the agent's failure to pass the submission test.

But most agents will send a written notice of their submission test failure, and these letters are often referred to as "rejection letters". This term is highly misleading slang as they rarely, if ever, contain the word rejection. The letters are simply the agents' notification that they no longer believe they'll be able to adequately perform the job they'd applied for.

If a large number of applicants fail the testing portion of the interview process, or if few potential applicants respond to the initial want ad, it can be frustrating and disappointing for the potential employer. At this point, the employer will have to round up another group of potential applicants, perhaps by using a revised version of the initial want ad, or by widening the pool of applicants to consider.

If a writer has already widened his or her agent search net to include every applicant who shows potential, but has not yet found anyone qualified to hire, the writer has at least three choices. He or she might choose to let some time pass and then try to identify more applicants at a later date. Or, the writer might choose to consider the reasons for feeling unqualified that were offered by the past applicants', and then revise their product to better suit the tastes and skill levels of the available pool of applicants. Or, the writer might choose to return to the research and development stage and create an entirely new product. Then, with a new product in hand, they may return to the want ad stage. Often agents who felt unqualified to represent one particular product may feel better qualified to represent another product produced by that same potential employer -- perhaps using refined production techniques, or a with more inventive overall design concept. Statistical evidence has proven this last option has the highest probability of success.*

Bottom line: no reason to be angsty. As clearly demonstrated by this analogy, we writers are in charge. ;-)

Okay, I'm not that deluded, but maybe if writers thought of it more this way -- trying to find the right person for the job -- it might relieve some of the angst?

Who am I kidding? We're an angsty lot.

* You want a reference for the statistical study? Sorry. Umm... It's confidential. Yeah, confidential.