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by Jessica
Most every writer has a raft of rejection stories, some funny, some harrowing, some downright infuriating. Without question, the worst aspect of my job is turning people down, and I’m aware that the form rejections most agencies employ are a locus of particular outrage. As Jim pointed out in his recent post, they are a necessary evil, since giving a personal response to each query—even the richly deserving—is simply too time-consuming. Like you, I must triage my inbox, and so any constructive criticism and words of encouragement I might otherwise be inclined to offer fall by the wayside.
Littered as it is with “Dear Author” responses, or dead silence (better? worse? You tell me), the agent search can be profoundly dispiriting, but it’s useful to remember that publishing is bound together by the great chain of rejection. Agents turn down writers, editors reject agent submissions, editors are shot down in their editorial meetings (“Not for us.” “Won’t sell,” “Who cares?”), and publishers, though they are ostensibly at the top of what can seem like an appallingly medieval cosmology, they too face rejection when the books they select are summarily ignored by the public. Most everyone involved in publishing is convinced, at one time or another, that the keys to the kingdom reside in others’ hands. Recently I met with an editor who waved his arm in my direction and said, “You people seem to think that houses are swimming in money. But it’s just not the case. I’m telling you it’s grim at my offices. Positively funereal.”
So what’s my point? That rejection is an immutable fact of this business, and that for all involved, developing a thick skin, a deep reservoir of stubbornness and a sense of humor are critical. I also think that we all might dispense with the illusion that books represent the optimal way to “share a story with the world.” A writer’s conviction that his is a book that “people need to read” is better served in the blogosphere, where people can do so. For free. Another not-so-helpful canard is that being an author represents a reasonable path to fame and fortune. These days, fame and fortune are a reasonable path toward being an author.
Obviously, no one is as invested in a book as its creator; it is, of course, your time, your ideas, and sometimes your very life. Memoirists are in the unfortunate position of being judged not only on their ability to write but the substance of their character, life choices, and tone of voice (“a little whiny, too chirpy, too callow”). It’s enough to make a misanthrope of anyone. Yet most everyone involved in the book world, from writers to agents to publishers to consumers, shares a core belief—one, I think that is not misplaced—that readers recognize talent. Such recognition may not come soon (why writers have drawers full of unpublished manuscripts), and it may not be with commercial success. Still, the vast majority of people toiling in the publishing business are united not only by the need to soldier on in the face of rejection, but also by the belief that a really good book is inherently valuable.
by Jessica
This week’s
New Yorker has a wonderful article on Arabic Literature:
"Found in Translation" by Claudia Roth Pierpont. Since my time in Cairo was spent working on contemporary Arab fiction—I sold translation rights to books to American and international publishers, including many by authors cited in this piece—this is a subject close to my heart. Not long before this,
A Public Space ran Bryan T. Edward's
very smart piece on Cairo's young literati. Clearly, as I remarked to a colleague who acquires international fiction (one of a handful in the publishing industry), these articles presage a new commercial trend, one in which works in translation rocket right to the top of the bestseller lists, elbowing aside assorted tales of the undead.
Stranger things have happened.
by Lauren
Yesterday,
Jessica discussed Laura Miller’s book on CS Lewis, and today I bring you more of her wisdom, this time from Salon.
Earlier this week, Miller recommended we all try something new in 2010: read a book we think we won’t like. I’ll admit that while I’ve grown much more open since I began working in publishing, with my personal reading, I invariably leap for the same sorts of books I’ve always loved. My “free time” reading piles at home have the same general character as the ones that were in my college dorm rooms. When taking the luxury of reading purely for my own enjoyment, I rarely think it’s worth reading trying something I’m not naturally excited about. But I know from my professional experience that sometimes wonderful books are hiding in categories we hesitate to touch or under plots that seem at first glance unappealing.
I’m not generally one for New Year’s resolutions (as it’s universally acknowledged that those are merely things we pretend we’re going to do or else we’d have begun them when we decided they were important rather than arbitrarily on January 1st…er, 7th…oh, by early February at the latest), but I’ll take Miller’s suggestion on in 2010: I will read, for my personal reading, at least one book I’m convinced I will hate.
Since I’m the naturally contrary sort, it shouldn’t be too hard to find something wonderful that I’d normally shove aside. And hey, if I do hate it, I might’ve wasted my time, but I’ll also feel totally vindicated.
Is anyone else prepared to take on this challenge? And does anyone have ground rules about what’s unreadable as delightful and random as Miller’s? If anyone has a graphic novel about 20-something magicians living on a ranch in Prague while working in the silent movie business and feeling disenchanted with their relationships with rabbis, they may want to suggest their publicist steer clear of Miller’s desk at review time. (But they should probably send that manuscript to me, because I bet it’s
amazing!)
by Jessica
Over the holidays, I gave myself the gift of a bit of pleasure reading; one of the books on the
NYT’s year end best list, Laura Miller’s
The Magician’s Book: A Skeptic’s Adventures in Narnia. It is essentially a work of literary criticism devoted to C.S. Lewis’s beloved series. Miller, who adored the Narnia series, nevertheless felt bitterly tricked when she discovered they were a Christian allegory. Kids, she argues, are literalists, and as heavy handed as the religious symbolism may be, they lack the general knowledge to see the similarities between a story about a magical lion and the Christian messiah. Years later, Miller returned to the books to examine them as an adult. Hers is a smart and fairly serious undertaking, one that I’ve enjoyed in part because her childhood experience so closely mirrors my own. One idea in particular has really stuck with me. She posits that most avid readers, folks who love books (most of you, I imagine), are forever in search of the purity and pleasure of that first book (or books) that so enchanted us. That as adults, we can never quite recapture that absolute delight when our critical faculties were not yet developed, and our immersion in fiction was complete. That we read, now, in some sense, in an effort to get back to the garden.
For me, the books were, in fact the
Chronicles (hence my interest in Miller’s book). But I’ve not reread the series as a grown-up precisely because I fear finding them wanting, hollow, devoid of the pleasure they once afforded me. I’m curious to know what your touchstone book was, and if you’ve ventured to read it now that you can, perhaps, see its shortcomings, peek behind the curtain.
by Jessica
Intern Kara just told me that
a blog in the Baltimore Sun declared that this was the "Twilight Decade."
Clearly, Stephanie Meyer has made a mark—and whether she is symptom or cause, we are deep inside a paranormal moment in pop-culture. Austen and the undead, who would have thought? Still, as Kara (who argued that the past ten years belong to Harry Potter) demonstrated, the “Twilight decade” is subject to some debate. I’m curious to see where you all weigh in. In the name of what author, idea or impulse, do you name the past nine years? And, incidentally, what do we name this decade? The “aughts” just never caught on.
My own answer—in terms of book-publishing, public policy, and in personal life— might be that these last ten years have been the decade of the Middle East.
Starting with 9/11 and the attendant wars begun in Afghanistan (not actually the Middle East, I know), in Iraq and on terror, to concern with radical Islam, to the scramble to understand “why they hate us,” through to present anxieties over a nuclear Iran, it was a discussion that was conducted across the media, one that taught us a new vocabulary of terrible and heartbreaking phrases: Al Qaeda, Clash of Civilization, extraordinary rendition, Abu Ghraib, improvised explosive devices…and the list goes on. The books that have emerged from and informed this discussion are too numerous to list, but they include the works of Bernard Lewis, Stephen Coll, Lawrence Wright, Dexter Filkins, Jane Mayer, Stephen Kinzer, Reza Aslan, Karen Armstrong, Juan Cole, John Esposito, etc. “Middle East Studies” is category that has grown by leaps and bounds and for better and for worse.
My decade of the Middle East is, of course, a smaller story and a happier one, a brighter and more hopeful counterpoint to the grim meta-narrative of tragedy and turmoil. Granted mine was made up of words like motherhood (my son was born in Cairo), Mahfouz (plus a host of other remarkable novelists whose work I came to know), meshi (vegetables stuffed with rice and meat, and assorted other delicious staples of Egyptian cooking), and so on…. But the opportunity to live and travel in the Islamic world, to see that devout is not, in fact, a synonym for dangerous, was eye-opening. And even though I’m back in the USA as the decade closes, my sojourn in Egypt profoundly colored this period of my life.
So obviously, this is a subjective exercise, one with no single answer: I look forward to reading your nominations.
by Jessica
Chasya used
this week’s Questions Corner to respond to a good question; namely, the mistakes that authors make while pitching. My afternoon was a busy one, and somehow I missed my moment to chime in, but I’m adding my two cents now. I’d argue that pitching—the ability to use your three or seven minute “speed date” to sell an agent on an idea— is less important than the material you send or hand over. In other words, it’s possible to flub a pitch session entirely, but if you’ve managed to communicate the core idea, and that idea strikes me as an interesting/viable one, then I’m almost always willing to look at a sample. For me, and likely for most agents, it’s what is on the page that counts. So, if you stuttered or shook or needed to start over, don’t sweat it. Polish your pitch so that you feel comfortable delivering it, but know that the real assessment comes not at a tiny table in the midst of a busy conference, but when I read your work.
That said, my best advice to writers, whether they are preparing for a conference or mailing out queries is to try and think like an agent/editor. Do come up with some contemporary writers whose work is thematically or stylistically related to your own. That your work is unique is a given, but for agents and thereafter publishers to “position” your book, they’ll need to target a particular audience; does your work appeal to readers of Sue Miller and Jane Hamilton, readers of Jonathan Lethem and Dave Eggers, etc. I’m always surprised by the number of pitchers who seem flummoxed by this question. Note: It’s probably best to exclude all canonical writers from the discussion. Not because it may raise an eyebrow or two (being presumptuous is fine if you can back it up) but because it is not especially helpful as a marketing description. Leave comparisons to Joyce or James or Fitzgerald to the dazzled critics.
Nonfiction writers should address one of book publishing’s existential questions: namely, is this material really a book or is it better suited to a magazine/blog piece? Obviously, this is a subjective judgment, and sometimes it’s a question answered in hindsight, when a book fails to sell. It is, however, among the most frequently cited reasons that editors pass on interesting, well-written and even timely material. For most writers, it’s worth the effort to view your work through this lens: what does a book offer than an article length treatment can or does not? Is this a subject that people will pay to read about? Why?
Sometimes it’s tough to look at our own work so dispassionately—after all, this is a project you care mightily about. But doing so can help you reframe, fine-tune, or broaden your approach into something more viable. Something people might not only want to read, but pay to do so.
by Jessica
In light of
Miriam’s post on good holiday gifts, and
Stacey’s elaboration on what she’s looking for, I figured I’d post my own holiday wish list, the projects that I’d love to discover in my virtual stocking, the visions of submissions/sugarplums that dance in my head.
- Popular science or history of science, in particular, neuroscience, medicine, natural history and biology, but if the writing is good, I’m open to most any discipline. I’m looking for today’s answer to Lewis Thomas.
- Plot-driven literary fiction, books that contain both gorgeous writing and a well-constructed, dramatic narrative arc.
- Literate, John LeCarre-style spy thrillers
- Novelistic/narrative retellings of pivotal chapters in world history—modern or ancient—with strong contemporary resonance.
- A modern gothic novel, like Donna Tartt’s The Secret History
- Polemic/muckraking narrative, a la Barbara Ehrenreich
- Psychology and sociology growing out of original research, with either a “big think” or prescriptive orientation.
- A surprise
By: DGLM,
on 12/2/2009
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by DGLM
Just in time for the holidays, new staff recommendations from us here at DGLM to add to your
shopping or
wish lists!
Check 'em out!
By: DGLM,
on 12/1/2009
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by Jessica
Just before the Thanksgiving holiday, I attended the Middle East Studies Association conference, which is the yearly gathering of scholars of the Middle East. With its panels and papers, receptions and speeches, it is probably not unlike academic conferences of other disciplines, except that the music at the Sunday night dance party was Arab pop (if you’ve never heard the Middle East’s answer to Madonna, she’s worth a listen:
check out Nancy Ajram on youtube) and among the post-docs getting down were a daunting number of accomplished belly dancers.
I go to MESA to get a sense of the ideas percolating in the field, sit in on assorted lectures, and meet with potential and existing clients whose research crosses over from an academic to a mainstream readership. This year, while helping out friends and former colleagues, I also had the memorable opportunity to moonlight as a bookseller. I have limited experience in the retail end of publishing; as an agent I’m in the business of selling books, but I’ve never tried it on a copy-by-copy basis. The experience was instructive, and I emerged from my adventure with a renewed sense of respect for the business of hand-selling.
It quickly became obvious that matchmaking between book and customer is both art and science—in this case I happened to know the books I was selling quite well, but to occupy that sweet spot between helpful and obtrusive was a wholly different challenge. When I convinced a browsing professor to purchase a novel I’d particularly loved, I was immoderately pleased. That she was already very likely interested in the subject I was peddling in no way diminished my sense of accomplishment. Other artisanal processes, like making cheese or crafting small batch whisky seem to be enjoying a renaissance, but hand-selling books, and the people who do it, ably and for real, are faring less well. Perhaps the book industry needs its own answer to the locovore movement. (Perhaps it’s out there—if yes, let me know).
Programs like
B&N Discover and
Borders Original Voices are efforts to scale up the hand-sell, and I like these programs immensely, but I note them professionally perhaps more than I respond to them personally. I’m curious to know how you all respond to them—ditto Amazon recommendations. Amazon’s ability to target my interests is undermined by the fact that I use the site as a research tool more often than I do to make purchases, but maybe you have better luck. Shelf talkers are great, but for me, nothing beats interested, widely read booksellers with whom I can speak; not only are they brilliant at suggesting books, they see the publishing industry from a perspective of the buyers who keep it alive. These days I’m particularly fond of New York’s
Idlewild bookstore, which specializes in books on international themes—travel, world lit, etc.
But as I suspect is the case with many of you, indie bookshops have always had a special place in my heart. When I was growing up, each year, probably right about this time, my parents (both inveterate readers of nonfiction) would report to our local bookshop, where the owner would recommend a raft of novels that were just right for me. The stack that ended up beneath the tree, selected by Santa Claus, never disappointed. When, eventually I figured out that it was the bookstore owner and not St. Nick doing the selecting, it did not render the achievement any less magical. I was, however, crushed when the store closed (take that Virginia). Imaginary though he is, Santa’s position seems more secure than that of the independent bookseller, a figure whom I hope will not
By: DGLM,
on 11/23/2009
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by Jane
It’s Thanksgiving and every year at this time especially, I think about what I am thankful for.
One of the main things I am thankful for is our team at Dystel & Goderich Literary Management. They really are the best at what they do:
Miriam Goderich--Partner, Senior Vice President and Editorial Director: The foundation of our company, a great editorial and administrative mind with an awesome sense of humor. I am so thankful that she is my partner and very close friend.
Michael Bourret--Vice President: A tireless agent; an incredibly hard worker and a risk taker. Michael is setting up a California office of DGLM. I have such admiration for him and am rooting for his success.
Jim McCarthy: A brilliant editorial mind and a superb agent, Jim has incredibly good taste and a wonderful sense of humor. I am constantly astounded by Jim’s insights and so proud of his enormous growth over the years and his recent successes.
Stacey Glick--Vice President: A terrific agent with a growing list of practical non-fiction, Stacey has a very good nose and is incredibly persistent. I am constantly amazed at all that Stacey accomplishes in her increasingly busy life and thankful to have her as part of our team.
Jessica Papin: Jessica is a passionate and amazingly hard working agent who is building a very exciting client list; we are so lucky to have her back.
Lauren Abramo: Our Rights Director and in-house techie as well as an agent in her own right, Lauren is always on top of everything. With a small list of clients, which she is growing carefully, we are very lucky to have her.
Chasya Milgrom: Our Royalties Manager and newest agent, Chasya is building a list and growing beautifully with the agency. I am so thankful to have her with us and to watch her develop as an agent.
Rachel Oakley: My assistant and our newest staff member--I am thrilled to have her here and know she is going to be a huge and important member of our team.
Thank you all for your support, your tenaciousness, your good taste and your wisdom; you all add to my life and to DGLM in enormously important and meaningful ways.
by Jessica
Two recently published biographies of Ayn Rand have been getting a good deal of attention recently. It’s unusual that two so similar books have been published more or less simultaneously, and the net effect is to make it seem as if we are in the middle of a Rand resurgence. Thomas Mallon
writes in the New Yorker that “most readers make their first and last pilgrimage to Galt’s Gulch....sometime between leaving for Middle Earth and packing for college.” Another reviewer (who it was, and the precise words he used, I can not now remember) said that Rand’s books have made it on to the mysteriously constituted but broadly understood unofficial reading list of adolescence. Both observations made me laugh, in large part because they seemed spot on. I read both
The Fountainhead and
Atlas Shrugged in early high school; who recommended them to me, I can’t, for the life of me, recall. Certainly not my parents, though they noted my choice of reading with some bemusement. I wasn’t in search of a political philosophy, and I emerged from my sojourn in Galt Gulch with no die-hard allegiance to Objectivism or snappy habit of wearing a cape. Ditto Middle Earth. I do, now wonder, where this unofficial reading list came from: for me in addition to Rand and Tolkien, it included generous helpings of Daphne DuMaurier (where is the gothic novel today, I ask?);
Gone With the Wind;
The Hitchhiker’s Guide;
The Princess Bride;
Down and Out in Paris and in London;
Look Homeward, Angel;
Lost Horizon. Note that I’m leaving off the books that were part of the official curriculum, such as
Hiroshima,
Death be Not Proud,
A Separate Peace and assorted other death-related tales that I now suspect compose the reading-list-approach to undermining the adolescent sense of invincibility.
But I wonder what made it on to your unofficial list of adolescence? Did you read Rand? And what do Howard Roark and Bilbo Baggins have in common? Also, if anyone can tell me what article I’m paraphrasing, I’d be grateful.
In working on prescriptive non-fiction, I’ve noted a phenomenon among authors that I’ll call the “there’s nothing out there like it” fallacy. Interestingly, it seems to affect a disproportionately expert population—physicians, nutritionists, psychologists, trainers, counselors, and attorneys—writers with professional credentials whose proposed book emerges from a considerable knowledge of their target market. Indeed, the fact that these people come in daily contact with their would-be book buyers should mean that they have a better sense than anyone of the information their patients/clients lack. In theory, these experts are ideally positioned to perceive a book-shaped hole in the market. But interestingly enough, this is not always the case.
There are a few reasons; because the general public may be demonstrably in need of information (or perhaps just reluctant to implement it) it does not always follow that there’s a dearth of books on the topic. In my experience, experts may know their audience inside and out, but they don’t necessarily have a clear sense of the competition. Acquiring editors, meanwhile, have an overdeveloped sense of the books in the field; usually they’ve published them. (Agents do too, which, apropos of the recent discussion, is another reason why we’re handy). Busy professionals, even those who assiduously keep up with the relevant journals, rarely have the time to read books aimed at a general audience. They do, however, hear their clients/patients complain that there is a shortage of reliable information “out there.” They field the same questions again and again. They rightly perceive their clients’ points of confusion, and may be especially gifted at untangling complex information, or perhaps they’ve created a program that gets amazing results. It is not so very difficult to therefore imagine that all this would merit, even demand, a new book.
Maybe so. But in order to test this premise, writers need to do significant research, not only on Amazon.com, B&N.com, Booklist, Publishers Weekly, or Publishers Marketplace, but also in multiple bookstores and libraries. No single source is especially reliable: on-line searches may be too broad or too narrow; looking at the bookstore shelf may not give an accurate sense of all that’s actually on offer; libraries don’t necessarily reflect all the newest entrees. Ideally, aspiring authors should read, or at least skim, the likely competition, with a dispassionate eye (does the world really need another book on this subject) and in hopes of spotting an opening. If “nothing out there” really means “there’s nothing out there written by me,” bear in mind that publishing houses find this a persuasive argument only insofar as the “me” in question has one or more of the following: a national platform; a media profile; conducted groundbreaking research; a fresh approach to the subject at hand. It is this last aspect that is most tractable. It is true that most nonfiction is platform driven, but it is also concept-driven, and teasing out a hook—which is not so much a gimmick as a clever, easily-grasped, organizing principle—is essential. Finding a way into your subject that has not been done and done again is difficult, but not, I think, so difficult as acquiring the MD, MBA or PhD to begin with!
-Jessica
Yes, Junie B. Jones books are some of the most popular books in the country. Not just for reading, but for banning.
Good Lord! I read those books to my daughter and she loved them. She laughed at her antics, her brio, and her mistakes. And now I discover I was fostering her illiteracy.
I would ask what you think, but I come down squarely on the side of Junie B.
Read more here.
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Brilliant, useful post. So many writers are operating with old information. This needs to get out there: "we all might dispense with the illusion that books represent the optimal way to “share a story with the world.” A writer’s conviction that his is a book that “people need to read” is better served in the blogosphere."
Thanks for this.
Thank you for posting this. I think I really needed to hear it.
I think you want to say, "these days fame and fortune are a reasonable path [towards] being an author."
amazingly, my word verification (no joke) is "critic"
Mmmm food for thought. I particularly liked your point about the illusion of a book being the best way to tell a story. A really useful post Jessica, Thank you.
Thanks, Sarah Louise-- "toward" added.
I like to equate the question of form rejection letters or silence to a run of the mill B teen movie.
The authors (nerds) are trying to get the agents (cool kids) to take them to prom (publishers), we've given you the best, wittiest, coolest pick up line we can manage. Much better than the jock's "Hey Baby did that fall from heaven hurt?" and now we wait by our phones for your response wondering if our blue ruffled tux that our overbearing mother picked out was rented in vain.
If you (we all have at some point) were waiting wouldn't you at least want to hear the "No" from the cheerleader and move on (with closure!) to the nerdy but still cute girl who shows up in a Killer Little Red number and ultimately becomes the love of your life.
Or sit by the phone in the wrinkled tux waiting and thinking, "They'll call in the next 5 minutes, I know they will," while Red stays at home and Prom passes by.
Perhaps you should enclose this entry with your agency rejection letter.
Okay, I'm not going to say this nearly as eloquently as 'buildingalife', but I completely agree that the closure from a form rejection is infinitely better than never hearing at all. Especially in this day and age of spam filters, if you don't hear anything, you just end up wondering if they ever even received your query.
Personally, form rejections never, ever bothered me. Why? Because I could totally tell myself, "Oh, we're not a good fit." and believe it and move on. The ones with little notes that say, "Great voice, but it's not compelling enough." or whatever are the ones that killed me. I felt close. With a form rejection, I could trick myself into believing it wasn't me and carry on.
I think that agents should respond, but really, don't feel bad about a form letter! You said it all, when you said writers just need to get thicker skins and a sense of humor. My first book is about to come out and if a writer looking for an agent asked me for advice, what I would say to them is: This business is SLOW. It's slow. It's really slow. It's still slow when you have an agent. And it's still slow when you have an editor. And it's even slower when you're waiting for your book to come out. There is only ONE way to deal with this. GET A LIFE BEYOND YOUR PUBLISHING DREAMS. I'm not saying give up, do your writing thing. It's exciting, and fun, and one of the coolest things that has ever happened to me, but if you don't have a life outside of publishing, if you are waiting by the phone, you're wasting your life!!!! Enjoy the process because if anything, it gets slower (not life, publishing) and rejection will always be there. You can't choose how agents, editors, publishers, critics will act, only how you respond to their actions. Okay...I'm off my soap box now!
A writing life is more about the forest and less about the trees. If I spent my life waiting for responses, I'd miss a whole lot of fun waiting to be had out there. So I write...that's my job. And the waiting? Well, I'm a person who loves the wonderful gift a good surprise!
I definitely prefer even the most soulless form rejection to no reply. The form provides closure, lets me fill in the cell on my spreadsheet next to your name and move on (I'm a scientist by training, and a form is data while no reply is...nothing).
I really appreciated this post. It reminds me a little of our system of government - rather than being designed "to pass laws" (as we learn in school), it's more designed "to stop bad laws from being passed". That means it is slow and clunky. We call it the sausage factory (as in: you like the final product but you don't want to watch it being made).
I especially appreciated your thoughts about authorship and fame, which contain a lot of wisdom.
You brought up sme great points on this food chain of rejection, well done!
As for me, even a rejection saying "Not for me" is better than a don't respond means no. It puts me at ease knowing they at least got my query.
Worse than a form rejection--even far worse than not hearing anything--is receiving a form rejection that reads as a personalized one. A friend got one recently and I compared it with the one I received two years ago (by the same agent), with character names and the manuscript title replaced. She was convinced this agent had read the full (and she might have) and was offering specific advice as to what needed to be changed. Until I showed her mine. She was ready to tear apart her story. Very scary.
Excellent post. Let me join in the vote asking for a rejection, even a form rejection, rather than the suspense of silence. Did the email/letter/smoke signal get lost? Should I ask? Requery?
In the oft-uttered words of Spenser, the protagonist created by the late and much-lamented Robert B. Parker, "Better to know than not to know."
Agreeing, a rejection is better than the silence. I would prefer a form rejection that offers nothing than a form rejection that seems to offer something and does not. I would rather that an agent would simply say no, than to try to be nice about it with a generic 'helpful' form letter. (Still querying...I can handle the truth...)
A great post on the reality of the publishing food chain.
Everyone gets rejected. Accept it and move on.
Per your question - I think a form rejection is better than silence, as silence tends to lead to a fruitless hope sometimes.
I queried Jim after meeting him at a conference because he came across as such a nice person. And he ended up rejecting me, but with a short and very nice e-note. When my next project is ready for submission, I'll definitely include him on the query list.
Re: "...and publishers, though they are ostensibly at the top of what can seem like an appallingly medieval cosmology,"
So good, so apt, so funny.
Thanks, Jessica. You definitely put things in perspective. :)
Thanks so much for all the feedback--I will certainly heed your thoughtful advice and diligently send responses.
As for the colorful analogy in which writers are “nerds” and agents are "the cool kids," I would counter that in a business whose professional ranks are riddled with bookworms, "cool" is a relative term. In addition, much as I know trying to attract the attention of an agent may feel awkward and nerve-wracking, in point of fact, the author agent relationship is one of equals. When looking for an agent, consider looking for someone with whom you feel you can partner, someone who does not, in fact, reduce you to feeling like a geeky supplicant.
--Jessica
Form rejections are ALWAYS better than silence! It's like applying for a job: I'm a professional and all I want to know if when I'm out of the running.
The big problem here is that for people on the outside, 'being published' seems like something magical and special, for people in the industry, it's a job with deadlines and budgets and products at the end of it, and five hundred manuscripts on a slushpile already.
Often, people who haven't been published think it's about some magic key - a form of words on the cover letter or bumping into the right person. When it's much more simple, and much harder: you want a great piece of writing about something that's really marketable to arrive already shovel ready or thereabouts.
Agents and publishers are a lot less opaque than they used to be - their websites say exactly what they're looking for and what to submit. Anyone trying to get published: read those guidelines, for heaven's sake. They're instructions, they're the map to where you want to get to.
My advice for agents and publishers - be kind, always remember that writers have spent months putting submissions together, and usually groping around in the dark. You get fifty submissions a day - we don't, we're barely even sure what a synopsis is for, let alone what one reads like.
But always be honest. If there's no hope, don't offer constructive criticism, it's a waste of time. Don't sugar the pill or give any room for doubt - most of us know that 'not what we're looking for at this time' means 'because we're looking for stuff that's not absolute *&^*ing *^&%'.
I'd rather get a straight, no-nonsense rejection letter than one that mumbles something about how it didn't hook you or started slow. A line that suggests you've read it would be nice, just so it doesn't feel cookie cutter. A line that suggests how far it got would be nice:
'Thank you for your submission, I Survived Prancer. It was passed to me by one of our readers. I'm afraid I don't see a market for a 965 page stream of consciousness memoir about how boring your family's Christmas morning was eight years ago, particularly one so bereft of humor and filled with hate against named individuals and ethnic groups. I'm afraid I would recommend entirely abandoning this project.'
Re: "Thank you for your submission, I Survived Prancer"
Sorry, I just have to mention Prancer is one of my favorite movies!
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098115/plotsummary
"Jessica, the daughter of an impoverished apple farmer, still believes in Santa Claus. So when she comes across a reindeer with an injured leg, it makes perfect sense to her to assume that it is Prancer, who had fallen from a Christmas display in town. She hides the reindeer in her barn and feeds it cookies..." Written by {[email protected]}
***
Hmm, now that I look at that blurb, I wonder if it would "have any legs" with an agent...get it, injured reindeer leg/have any legs...never mind....
Re: Rejection: I have no need to know how far an agent got - what if it was only the first 6 paragraphs? Painful. Be kind: Just say no.