(drinking mai tais). You sit down to catch up on a backlog of work, which includes looking at several manuscripts on your desk. One is from a successful writer you already represent. Another is from a published writer you met at the conference who is between agents. You expressed interest in seeing the proposal for her next book. A couple of others are from people who sent you query letters per the guidelines on your website. You were interested enough to request the manuscripts, and here they are. And another pile consists of manuscripts that were sent to you unsolicited.
You check your voice mail, where you encounter a number of important and less important messages, ranging from editors at publishing houses getting back to you to your elderly mother calling to see if you will be visiting soon. Your e-mail inbox is full and there is a pile of snail mail on your desk.
Feeling overwhelmed, you settle into your favorite reading chair, pen and notepad in hand, and prepare to read the manuscripts. First you look at the submission from the author who is already in your stable. This person is a talented journalist who has one New York Times bestseller under his belt. However, his last two books have had disappointing sales. This new book is about the growing influence of Latino culture in America’s public education system. The book summary is too general and the chapter outlines are a little perfunctory, but that can all be worked out. You already represent this author, so your perspective is that of partner. You look at the sample chapter and are quickly drawn into the narrative, which is no surprise, because this guy can write.
But you are worried. Why is this material best presented as a book, rather than a piece on public radio, or a magazine article? Why will a publisher plunk down a big chunk of cash up front for this proposal, when the public can get the same information elsewhere and the author has a declining sales track (meaning each successive title has sold less than the bestseller that got him all this attention)? You make a note to call him—an e-mail won’t do.
Next you turn your attention to the author you met in Maui. She is a talented writer whose work straddles genres, landing somewhere between literary fiction and thriller. This can be a problem for publishers, who want their customers to know where to locate a book in bookstores. Her last book garnered critical acclaim and sold well, and you think she is a star on the rise. But then you aren’t the only one who thinks this, which makes you wonder why she is shopping for a new agent. You worry that there may be some problem and make a note to do some quiet checking around, but in the meantime you are excited to look at her manuscript.
The beginning is superb, telling the tale of a woman driving up the coast in Northern California pursued by mysterious men in a van, and an hour goes by without your even noticing. But then the story begins to bog down in a second subplot about an eight-year-old runaway with a lame puppy. This second part of the book involves a lot of beautiful but aimless atmospheric writing and doesn’t appear to have anything to do with the woman pursued by mysterious men. You wish you had a closer relationship with the author—you would tell her to make this subplot tie in more clearly with the primary story or cut it altogether. You wonder, also, if this is part of the unknown problem—that the author is not happy in the thriller genre, where sales tend to be larger, and is writing in a way that lends itself more to the literary work.
Tough Love from the Author Enablers
When sending query letters or manuscripts to agents or publishers, follow the submission guidelines or we’ll come over and kick your butt (metaphorically speaking)! ‹«
Next you turn to the two manuscripts from unpublished authors who are seeking representation. The first manuscript is a nonfiction work about space exploration and its effect on our
You check your voice mail, where you encounter a number of important and less important messages, ranging from editors at publishing houses getting back to you to your elderly mother calling to see if you will be visiting soon. Your e-mail inbox is full and there is a pile of snail mail on your desk.
Feeling overwhelmed, you settle into your favorite reading chair, pen and notepad in hand, and prepare to read the manuscripts. First you look at the submission from the author who is already in your stable. This person is a talented journalist who has one New York Times bestseller under his belt. However, his last two books have had disappointing sales. This new book is about the growing influence of Latino culture in America’s public education system. The book summary is too general and the chapter outlines are a little perfunctory, but that can all be worked out. You already represent this author, so your perspective is that of partner. You look at the sample chapter and are quickly drawn into the narrative, which is no surprise, because this guy can write.
But you are worried. Why is this material best presented as a book, rather than a piece on public radio, or a magazine article? Why will a publisher plunk down a big chunk of cash up front for this proposal, when the public can get the same information elsewhere and the author has a declining sales track (meaning each successive title has sold less than the bestseller that got him all this attention)? You make a note to call him—an e-mail won’t do.
Next you turn your attention to the author you met in Maui. She is a talented writer whose work straddles genres, landing somewhere between literary fiction and thriller. This can be a problem for publishers, who want their customers to know where to locate a book in bookstores. Her last book garnered critical acclaim and sold well, and you think she is a star on the rise. But then you aren’t the only one who thinks this, which makes you wonder why she is shopping for a new agent. You worry that there may be some problem and make a note to do some quiet checking around, but in the meantime you are excited to look at her manuscript.
The beginning is superb, telling the tale of a woman driving up the coast in Northern California pursued by mysterious men in a van, and an hour goes by without your even noticing. But then the story begins to bog down in a second subplot about an eight-year-old runaway with a lame puppy. This second part of the book involves a lot of beautiful but aimless atmospheric writing and doesn’t appear to have anything to do with the woman pursued by mysterious men. You wish you had a closer relationship with the author—you would tell her to make this subplot tie in more clearly with the primary story or cut it altogether. You wonder, also, if this is part of the unknown problem—that the author is not happy in the thriller genre, where sales tend to be larger, and is writing in a way that lends itself more to the literary work.
Tough Love from the Author Enablers
When sending query letters or manuscripts to agents or publishers, follow the submission guidelines or we’ll come over and kick your butt (metaphorically speaking)! ‹«
Next you turn to the two manuscripts from unpublished authors who are seeking representation. The first manuscript is a nonfiction work about space exploration and its effect on our
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