Archive for the ‘Agentry’ Category

Connections at ALA

Tuesday, January 24th, 2006

Don Tate and I drove down to San Antonio early Saturday morning for the ALA Midwinter Meeting. Before we’d even made it inside the Gonzalez Center, I knew I was in the right place and in good company.

From sometime back, Don knows Colleen Salley, and we passed her on the way inside. He introduced me to her, and she introduced us to her editor at Harcourt, Jeannette Larson. Or, as I like to think of her, children’s literature’s other Jeannette Larson – the first being Jeanette (“One ‘N’”) Larson, youth services manager of the Austin Public Library, godmother of the local scene and beyond.

Inside, I almost immediately found and hugged Austin ex-pat Annette Simon at the Simply Read booth. I happily walked away with a signed copy of Mocking Birdies, which matches the birdhouse Annette designed with draft versions of her artwork for the book, and which I bought at an SCBWI auction over a year ago.

Then I went to work, getting my money’s worth for the $25 it cost to get onto the exhibit floor. Amid the children’s publishers’ booths – most of them so close together that it felt like the greatest small-town downtown on the planet – I began seeking out editors. Some of them I’d met at prior events, some I’d submitted to in the past, and some didn’t know me from the Elvis impersonator prowling the show floor.

While I was talking with Simon & Schuster’s Paula Wiseman (editor of Buddy by Austin’s Anne Bustard), we were approached by a redhead who I recognized only from a photo.

“Are you my agent?” I asked in my best picture-book-about-a-baby-bird-who’s-confused-about-which-animal-is-his-mother voice (which probably wasn’t all that good).

She was. I’d been awake since before 4 that morning, largely out of excitement about finally getting to meet Erin Murphy in person. And here she stood. I felt immediately comfortable with her.

We strolled amid the booths for a while and then sat and plotted upcoming submissions. We had lunch with a couple of Erin’s other Texas clients: sister nonfictioner Dani Sneed and the irrepressible novelist/puppeteer Diane Roberts. Diane would tell you that I picked up her napkin 27 times during our meal, but really, it was only four.

After lunch, it was more editors, more ARCs, more F&Gs. I haven’t counted, but I came away with roughly three dozen books and maybe a couple dozen new or strengthened editorial contacts. I also go to meet Liz from A Chair, A Fireplace and A Tea Cozy, making a connection that wouldn’t have been open to us a year ago, in that dark time before either of us had a blog. Upon learning that this was her first-ever trip to Texas, I shot a cactus so as to impress her.

Having not gotten my fill of Diane during lunch, Don and I joined her and her self-published traveling companion Linda Ayers for dinner. I’m typically an introvert, but put me in the vicinity of others who love children’s literature, and it turns me inside out – or, perhaps, right side out. After dinner we called it a night, but my mind – spinning from all the contact and the conversation, powered by all the caffeine – kept me up a lot later than it should have.

Calling Sunday morning “more of the same” doesn’t really do it justice, but it’s accurate. The day’s big event was lunch with Charlesbridge editor Judy O’Malley. It was my third time to meet Judy, so I’m very at ease with her – too at ease, one could argue.

At the end of lunch my cell phone began to vibrate. Now, I’m a cell phone novice, with a crummy phone and a crummy plan that typically keeps my calls to a minimum. But not at ALA.

I glanced down to see who was calling. “Excuse me,” I said to Judy in a semi-smarmy Hollywood voice. “It’s my agent.”

Well, Judy – knowing Erin, and knowing that I had just signed with her, and having referred me to her in the first place – found this hilarious. But I immediately hated the way it felt and swore never to do such a thing ever again. It did, however, help set up the best possible conclusion to my ALA experience.

Erin met us back at the Charlesbridge booth, and while she and Judy caught up, I ventured down the aisle to the Chronicle booth, where my friend and encourager Dianna Aston signed me a copy of her beautiful new book An Egg Is Quiet. Moments later, here comes Don with Varian Johnson. I got to introduce Don and Varian to Judy and Erin, and while I was at it, I introduced Erin to Dianna.

Connection after connection after connection. When I first stumbled into children’s writing five-plus years ago, I was struck by the sense of community shared by nearly all of the folks involved, but I’d never sensed that more than at that moment Sunday afternoon. My heart felt full, and it was time to go home.

Is anybody goin’ to San Antone?

Friday, January 13th, 2006

I heard back from my agent today about my latest draft of James. She made a couple of editorial suggestions that seem so obvious that I’m a little embarrassed that I hadn’t caught them myself.

Both suggestions feel like they should be fairly simple to address, but I suppose I’ll find out for sure in the morning. I’ve got an idea for a new opening sentence, and I’ll be curious to see how well it holds up after a night’s sleep.

I’ll get to meet my agent in person for the first time next week at the ALA Midwinter Meeting in San Antonio. Liz B at A Chair, A Fireplace and A Tea Cozy will be there, too, as will Don Tate. If you’re reading this and plan to be there, please let me know — I’d love to meet as many of you as possible.

Agented

Friday, December 9th, 2005

As soon as the paperwork arrives, I’ll be signing with literary agent Erin Murphy.

This may bode ill for her judgment, but at the moment, words fail me. I’m very, very excited. I’m ecstatic. I’m some combination of “excited” and “ecstatic” that doesn’t even have a name because it would be completely redundant with “excited” and “ecstatic.”

And I’m grateful. The past three weeks — since I first heard back from Erin about the manuscripts I sent in September — have just been fantastic. A big reason for that is the generosity of a dozen of Erin’s clients who took the time to fill me in on their experiences with her. I kept waiting for at least one of them to inspire some sliver of doubt about whether I ought to be working with Erin.

It never happened.

So, I’d like to thank them for the complete confidence I feel in the decision I’ve made. And I’m also thankful for the handful of agented Austin friends who helped me make sure I was asking all the right questions.

A special thanks goes to my wife, who has listened to me talk about another woman for the better part of a month and yet shares utterly in my enthusiasm.

I’ve said a lot about why I want an agent. It’s obviously a topic I’ve enjoyed. But I’m thrilled to be moving on now. Time to get back to writing.

Further on up the road

Wednesday, November 30th, 2005

So why all the e-mailing and phone calling lately? Part of the reason is my research on James, but it’s mostly due to my discussions with the agent.

Things have progressed farther than with any other agent I’ve been in touch with, to the point of me contacting several of her clients. It’s been as illuminating as it has been time-consuming.

I most likely won’t post any more on this topic until the process plays itself out, but I will probably have a lot to say once things are resolved, one way or the other. So, if you’ve got any questions — like I did, and to some extent still have — about the process of finding an agent, feel free to ask them in the comments or e-mail them to me at the contact address on the main page of Bartography, and I’ll answer as much as I can when the time is right.

Coming into focus

Friday, November 25th, 2005

This past week I’ve been thinking a lot about the agent’s advice that I focus for a while on nonfiction. Specifically, I’ve pondered what my day-to-day writing life might be like if I applied that sort of focus.

I like what I’ve come up with. Besides the obvious — my nonfiction projects would take top priority, and with The Day-Glo Brothers off my hands I’d need to think seriously about delving into a new research topic — I’ve identified lots of little differences that might result.

Here are three that come to mind:

  • I’ve always got a to-read list (or three or four) of children’s books, and they’re all over the map — picture books, middle grade, YA, plus nonfiction in all three categories. If I were to concentrate on that last group, and really get to know well the work of Russell Freedman, Susan Campbell Bartoletti, James Cross Giblin, Jim Murphy, etc., how might my own work benefit?
  • My long and growing list of regular blog reads reflects my lack of specialization, and it’s eating my writing time alive. I can’t imagine reading only nonfiction-related blogs, but I sure could better organize my blog reading so that those more pertinent to my focus get more attention more often.
  • Several months ago I subscribed to several children’s literature e-mail lists. They still arrive by the boatload, but now I don’t read a single one. What am I missing? If I don’t find a way to pare away what’s not relevant, I’ll never know. But if I were to filter out those that don’t discuss nonfiction, I might find something really worthwhile in what remains.

When I first received that agent’s advice, I expected to buck and chafe at the mere notion of focusing on one genre of writing, even if it was just for the time being. But the more I think about it, the more sense it makes, and the more right it feels.

If that changes, I’ll say so here.

Good question

Friday, November 18th, 2005

Last night my wife and I were discussing some wonderfully detailed feedback I had just received from an agent. This agent suggested that — between my nonfiction and my picture book manuscripts and the middle-grade novels I want to write — I might be just a bit too unfocused for this stage in my career.

Me: I just don’t want to get pigeonholed as “nonfiction.”

My wife: Why don’t you get pigeonholed as “published”?

The sweet smell of rejection

Sunday, October 30th, 2005

I received a rejection letter from an agent yesterday, and it was notable for a couple of reasons.

First, it was long and detailed. Not just, “Sorry, not right for us,” but a full page of personalized feedback, both praise (“We were all particularly impressed by…”) and the opposite (“we worry… we felt they lacked… we also had some concerns…”). Good stuff, even if not quite the sort of stuff I’d been hoping for.

The second thing was — and my wife confirmed this for me — the letter smelled. It was scented. Perfumed, I tell you. Not as strong as the cologne strip in a magazine ad, but definitely noticeable.

Maybe all of this agent’s correspondence — or everything from her entire agency — carries this aroma with it. Maybe just the rejections do, to make them go down more easily. Or maybe there’s a hierarchy of smells available to them for marking their letters, and I got one of the more appealing ones.

If that’s the case, I’m just glad I didn’t submit to this agent a few revisions back…

And now, the thrilling conclusion to "Why I Want an Agent" week

Friday, September 30th, 2005

I’ve been trying to lead up to something, and it’s this: for me, in my circumstances, I believe that

The right literary agent can help
me become a better writer

I don’t expect that having an agent will automatically make me write better (I’d give 20% for that), but I do think that the right one can help create opportunities in which I can realize more of my potential.

It’s not just that offloading my manuscript-peddling duties would free up more time for me to write, though that’s part of it. Mostly this crackpot theory of mine stems from my revisions of The Day-Glo Brothers. Through that process, I’ve learned a lot from my editor, and in a thoroughly enjoyable way I’ve been pushed and challenged to make good writing better.

What I want in an agent is someone who can make it possible for me to work with more editors in that same way, and frequently. I want an agent who can encourage — and, more to the point, sell — the wide variety of work that I’d like to do. I think that that variety makes me sharper, and I know it makes me happy.

So, that’s it, then. That’s what I’ll put in my queries: I’m looking for an agent who will make me happy. Who could pass up that opportunity?

"Why I Want an Agent" Week, Part IV

Thursday, September 29th, 2005
Because I want to have books published more
than just once every two or three years

Maybe things are moving at a faster pace than that for me already. Maybe they aren’t. With only one book under contract so far, there’s really no way to tell. But I do know that the one-year anniversary of my first contract offer is nearly here, and I’d hoped to have a second contract already.

Now, I could still be writing 50 years from now, and a book every two or three years over a half-century span comes out to quite a few books in the end. So why am I sweating over the prospect of not averaging a book a year? Part of it’s psychological, I’m sure — my dad died at 39, so I know firsthand that life is not always as long as it should be.

The main reason, though, is that I’ve got a lot of ideas that I want to pursue for fiction, non-fiction, picture books, middle-grade, etc. (This wasn’t always the case. I spent my 20s wondering, “What should I write about?”) If my track record is any indication, many of those ideas will turn out to be duds.

But I want to have the opportunity to at least give them a try, and without an agent to take on the job of selling the ones that do work, I just don’t know that I’ll have the time to get to them all. And that bugs me.

(Besides, I’ve seen how things can move faster when an agent is involved — e.g. manuscript gets e-mailed from agent to editor on Friday afternoon, editor gives agent an answer Monday morning. I am not a patient person, so having someone on my side who can suss out an editor’s interest that quickly has a lot of appeal to me.)

Plus, I love the gratification of sharing my work with other people. It’s a big motivator for me. So I wonder how inspired I would be to keep pursuing all my ideas if the ones that get published are relatively few and far between.

Next: The thrilling conclusion

"Why I Want an Agent" Week, Part III

Wednesday, September 28th, 2005
100% of a dollar is nice, but 85% of $1.20 is even better

I harbor no delusions (well, not many) of being able to turn my writing into my primary career anytime soon, but I do like the idea of making some money at it.

And while I’m proud of the way I handled myself when negotiating my first contract (the folks at my publisher are welcome to laugh up their sleeves like Heck Jones, but it’s true), I figure that a good agent could have made the deal 20% sweeter by pulling various levers that are beyond my grasp just yet.

What’s more, for the moment I’m just talking about a contract-by-contract comparison — for any single contract I could get on my own, this Good Agent of my dreams could make that contract more lucrative for me while saving me time on things like maintaining my publishers database.

I’ll take it. No arm-twisting required.

Next: Because I want to have books published more than just once every two or three years