Short, fat and grumpy

Housekeeping: We’ve just migrated our site from one webhost to another. We know that the site is still being a bit temperamental and are ironing out any issues now. I’m told that the new site will be much better behaved than the old one …

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Every now and then I get an email from one of you lovely people that sends me into a GRUMP.

It’s pretty rare that you yourselves are the cause of the grump. On the whole, it’s some instance of malpractice by the people who are meant to be there to support and further your career. On this occasion, the story is this:

THE SET UP

An author – called, I swear it, Penelope Potts – wrote a novel. It was a good novel (even better after a Jericho Writers manuscript assessment) and when the good Miss Potts sent her book to agents, an agent flung his hat into the air and cried out loud: I would like to represent you, oh Potty, my Pottifer.

Despite his hat-flinging, the agent seemed well-qualified. Though he hadn’t been an agent for long, his website looked professional and he’d had an excellent career in publishing.

INCITING INCIDENT

At this point, our excellent Potter was shortlisted or highly recommended in a couple of major awards. Other agents sniffed around. One offered representation.

Twist or stick? Stay loyal or jump?

It sounds like a dilemma, but it truly wasn’t. Young Penny Potts is nothing if not loyal and true, so (sternly, sternly) she raised a white-gloved hand and told the second agent that she was taken.

DEVELOPMENTS: THE DIFFICULT MIDDLE

The first agent told Penny that he was sending her book out to publishers large and small across the land. He told her that every avenue was being pursued, every stone was being turned.

Penny was puzzled at the idea that publishers were to be found beneath stones, but she trusted her expert. What did she know of these things, after all?

Weeks went by, and months. In an email to Jericho, she lamented, ‘nothing seemed to happen. My agent kept telling me I should be patient, and I understood that. But he seemed vague about the companies he was submitting to and very reluctant to give me much information. When I asked directly for names, he refused, saying he couldn’t disclose information about contacts! I started to realise that we had never had a proper conversation about my novel, and a horrible suspicion grew that he might not even have read the whole book.’

CRISIS!

Depending on what genre you favour:

1. Potts the Terrible stole into her agent’s office in the dead of night, spread a skin-permeable neurotoxin on his favourite executive fiddle-toy, then flew off to spend a long weekend in Lisbon – and returned to hear of her agent’s sudden and horrible death.
2. Pantifa Potiana commanded her stable of dragons to burn and then eat her agent, which they did, albeit unfortunately eating a rather meek and likeable intern by way of digestif.
3. Penny Potts simply gave her agent 60 days’ notice under the terms of their contract and terminated their relationship.

And, whichever story you prefer to tell, she ditched one agent and secured the services of the next. At the same time, she did a major rewrite of her novel and felt it was much improved.

But – the new agent said she couldn’t send the novel out to editors without knowing where it had already been submitted. The old agent wouldn’t even answer Penny’s email asking which editors had seen the manuscript.

And, in consequence, Penny now has an agent, a viable book – and nowhere to send it.

RESOLUTION

I can’t tell you what the resolution is, because I don’t know. That wheel is still in spin, the story still in progress.

But here are some comments:

1. Agents, even apparently reputable ones, and even ones at major agencies, can be AWFUL. They aren’t usually, but they can be. There aren’t meaningfully any professional standards that they have to adhere to and, even in bigger agencies, supervision of agents can be weak.
2. You have an absolute right to know where your book is being submitted. I mean, that’s obvious and unarguable no matter what, but it’s also a question of law. Anyone who holds data on you needs to tell you what they hold. That’s certainly the law in the UK and Europe. I don’t actually know-know that that’s the case in North America, but I’d be astonished if it weren’t. So don’t ask meekly to know who’s seen your book. Ask with force. If the agency is a multi-person agency and your agent doesn’t respond to your question, then write direct to the CEO. You’re in the right. They have to tell you.
3. Be willing to lie. I’ll bet a horse to a farthing that the first agent hadn’t properly read the book and hadn’t submitted it to anyone. Don’t allow that idiot’s idiocy to disrupt your career. If that means just not telling agent #2 about agent #1, then don’t. It’s your career, your book, your life. And, honestly, I think agent #2 should be a bit more assertive too. Here’s a fact: telephones exist. Agent #2 should just call agent #1 and say, “Did you submit that novel to anyone and if so where?” These stories often have a lot of Victorian decorum about them – oh, I couldn’t possibly send to X, if I’m not certain about the activities of Y. But the hell with decorum. What do you want? What helps your career? Actually poisoning agents is probably a bad idea. Ditto, anything that involves having them eaten by dragons. But beyond that, just look after your own interests. Everyone else looks after theirs.
4. There aren’t any very good outside bodies to support you, but make use of what there is. The Association of Authors Agents (in the UK) or the Association of American Literary agents in the US might send a mild rebuke to anyone behaving in the way described in this email. That rebuke won’t actually have any meaningful consequences, but nevertheless the threat of it might initiate some action.

And one last comment, an important one.

It’s not you, it’s them.

You’re not stupid. You didn’t make idiot choices. There weren’t checks you could sensibly have made beforehand. These things just happen and some agents are desperately unprofessional.

I do think that you should establish from the outset that agents will share the names of editors & publishers to whom that they submit your work. They should also share responses (perhaps not the full text, but the gist.) Those promises can’t in practice be cashed in anywhere – but you’d hope that an explicit upfront commitment does something to remind the agent about whose interests they are meant to serve.

And – hmm.

I entitled this email ‘short, fat and grumpy’ because I thought that such a simple story would end up taking 500 words, no more. But short is not my skillset, is it? A haiku-writer I amn’t.

Til soon.

Harry

If you want to reply, please please please please please please please can you send your reply by dragon. I’d absolutely love to see one.

PPS: I don’t want either a horse or a farthing. It wouldn’t be much of a bet.