Working with multiple literary agents

Disintermediation has its merits. I’ve always been annoyed by the inefficiencies of big organizations, so I understand authors’ efforts to find easier alternative systems for book publishing. When I was younger, I spent a decade working in the research and development unit of a rigidly structured bureaucracy—a job that required me to analyze, recommend improvements in, and ultimately document workflow. I learned that the best way to get things done involved either circumventing the established order or understanding it so well that the existing system could be navigated more easily and quickly. I like both routes.

My work in R&D entailed considering the perspectives of every stakeholder in the organization’s undertaking, which included more than just the people within the organization. I took the objective seriously. These days, as a literary agent, seeing the big picture relevant to book publishing comes naturally to me, which is not to say that it’s easy. It’s a very big picture.

Let me give you just a few examples of the complexity when considering stakeholders in the book business, or more specifically, in rights licensing.

For some writers, working directly with multiple literary agents is an advantage. It can be a good strategy for an individual who is the author of scholarly works, technical manuals, screenplays, adult fiction, and children’s books to be represented by a different agent specializing in each category. Specialization and expertise tend to be found together. On the other hand, there are agencies that conveniently handle several categories, and that’s not only fortunate for the agent, it can benefit the author as well. Some editors acquire manuscripts in a variety of categories and will ask questions about all of the titles an agent is handling, so an editor and agent’s initial conversation about a novel could turn into a rights license for a technical title by the same author. Those specific kinds of serendipitous connections are more likely to happen if the same agent is handling all of an author’s work.

For the sake of efficiency, it’s typical for a writer to have a primary literary agent, sometimes called a manager, who serves as an advisor in career matters, a negotiator of book deals, and a contractor with subagents (subsidiary rights agents, or co-agents) to help license dramatic rights, translation rights in foreign territories, etc.

Let’s say an author wishes to eliminate the intermediary and work directly with literary agents in each language rather than having a primary representative who engages subagents. Doing so could give the author more control. It definitely would reduce agency commission fees and keep more royalties in the author’s pocket. The flip side is the extra time it would take for the author to establish and maintain multiple agency agreements. What many writers also might fail to consider is that it’s not a good incentive to curtail each literary agent’s potential earnings while at the same time requiring the agents to interact directly with the author, a business relationship that is more labor-intensive than the role of the subagent, who might never have contact with the author.

In another scenario, an author potentially could distribute his or her individual titles within a single category among various literary agents, so that each title had a primary agent but the author had several, all working in the same language and territory. Seems like a good strategy, causing the agents to compete against each other, right? Well, maybe not. Think about it for a minute.

Many of us prefer to represent a client’s entire body of work, to the extent that we feel capable. An agent invests a great deal of effort in finding a publisher for a debut novel. Many hours are spent explaining the publishing process to an author, who might be experiencing it for the first time. It’s natural for a literary agent to hope that, if a client’s first book is successful, the second one will be an easier and more profitable deal. If each of the client’s adult novels, let’s say, has a different agent, then the agents probably won’t have quite as much motivation to work as hard as they would otherwise. The agents might even find themselves talking to the same editor at the same time, creating an awkward situation in which two of an author’s titles were in competition with each other.

The trend toward disintermediation can be a very good thing. I’m not opposed to it. Change is inevitable, and I enjoy learning new systems. Of course, part of the effects of disintermediation will be hidden, at least initially, and not all of the results will be beneficial. That’s life. I’d like to know how writers would analyze, suggest improvements in, and structure the work of a literary agent these days—that is, setting aside the fantasy of an agent for every writer. It would be nice to have that sort of feedback.

I love poetry, but…

…I don’t represent poets.

Few U.S. literary agents represent poetry. I won’t add insult to injury by explaining why.

Every year, I receive queries from poets, so it can’t hurt to post the form letter I send in reply, just in case a writer somewhere is conducting online research in the hope of having a book-length collection of poetry published by a respected literary press in the U.S.

The market for books of poetry is entirely different in languages other than English and in other parts of the world, but I’m monolingual, and the poets who contact me usually write in English.

To poets who ask if I’ll consider being their agent (a form letter)

If you’re reading this form reply from Robin Mizell Ltd., chances are you haven’t seen the agency’s website, RobinMizell.com, which provides up-to-date query guidelines. I don’t represent poets. A small number of agents work with the most celebrated poets, but most poets work directly with the publishers of their work.

In many cases, in order to have a book of poetry accepted by a traditional publisher, first you must have your poems published in highly respected literary journals and poetry anthologies. I can’t stress enough the importance of submitting your work only to the best small magazines and presses. The Poets & Writers website lists literary journals and contest deadlines. I think you’ll find its online resources helpful.

If you truly wish to pursue the idea of having a literary agent, then you should look for submission or query guidelines on literary agencies’ websites before contacting them. If poetry is not listed as a category of manuscripts an agent is seeking, then that agent is not looking for new poets to represent.

Learn which literary agencies might be seeking new poets as clients by reviewing the agency listings on free networking sites like these:

QueryTracker

Agent Query

Author Advance

Association of Authors’ Representatives

Your local library also will have guidebooks such as Poet’s Market. There’s no need to purchase the book. You can borrow it from the library nearest you. Find the closest library by searching WorldCat.org.

Good luck with your endeavors.

Sincerely,

Robin

If you’re reading this blogpost and can suggest improvements or additions to this form letter, please let me know, either via email or in the comments section. Is there a reliable online resource for writers who want to learn how to find reputable publishers for their poetry?

Credibility matters to me

In fact, credibility is one of the first things I look for in a person. It’s crucial in a prospective client’s writing sample, for its ability to make a story seem real, but the writer’s ethical credibility matters to me just as much.

Which is why I’m sorry that someone seems to be recommending that authors use a strategy that can damage their credibility when contacting literary agents. I’m receiving more and more queries from writers who fail to mention that the books they hope I’ll agree to represent already have been published.

On the other hand, any writer who thinks that ignoring the elephant in the room is a clever strategy isn’t someone I want as a client. Displaying a willingness to be deceptive at the very moment of introduction sends a clear signal to abort, which saves me a lot of time and effort.

I can understand a writer’s frustration with an unsuccessful first effort at being published. When an author recognizes in retrospect that she needs help, it’s logical for her to hope that a literary agent will extract her from her predicament. However, in what has become the data-driven business of trade book publishing, whatever a writer publishes first will permanently affect her reputation as an author. It’s nearly impossible, these days, for a writer to hide and recover from poor sales of a first book, even when the unpleasant outcome can be blamed on hasty self-publishing.

Traditional publishers are looking for good investments. Three years ago, I mentioned in “To writers who ask if I can interest traditional publishers in their self-published books”:

…once the results are in, if a self-published title has been selling slowly, there’s much less reason for a traditional publisher to speculate. A completely untested, unpublished manuscript appears to be a better investment.

Writers who believe their self-published books should be attracting the attention of big trade book publishers should take a look at that old blogpost, because the criteria are mostly objective. They’re the same criteria on which traditionally published authors are evaluated when acquiring editors consider the commercial prospects for those authors’ subsequent works.

Smart strategists know that self-publishing is not an easy route, that it’s not for everyone. It takes a skilled, hardworking entrepreneur with a plan to make it pan out. The worst thing writers do is force less than perfect books out into the world because they’re tired of the efforts they’ve put into writing them and they want to be done. Writers, like most people, I suppose, have a tendency to believe in magic instead of data.

On the upside, I hear from some genuinely talented, intelligent, and honorable writers who, I must say, stand out as the people I want to know better and perhaps will offer to represent. Their credibility matters to me.

Photo courtesy of D. Carlton

Robin Mizell Ltd: 2012 agency statistics

It’s time to get busy. But first, a little reflection.

In the middle of 2012, I relocated to South Carolina. Although the move wasn’t very disruptive, my business didn’t grow last year. I’m persistent and methodical, so I wasn’t among the agents who called it quits in 2012. My work always is enjoyable and my clients are the best. I have more than enough reasons for optimism.

All but one of my clients had books published in 2012, so there was plenty to celebrate. I didn’t spend much time looking for new clients. My agency was open to queries for only one month.

Statistically in 2012

• 312 writers allowed me to consider their work
• 21 (6.73%) were invited to send me their full manuscripts
• 16 (5.13%) followed through by sending manuscripts
• 0 were offered representation

The numbers for 2012 are almost identical to the previous year. In both years my agency was open to queries for a single month. This year, I’ll accept queries in January and July to improve my odds of finding one or two new clients, which I would like to do.

As you can see from the data, a significant percentage of writers didn’t send their manuscripts after I offered to read them. One took a direct offer from a small ebook publisher instead. One wasn’t able to complete a work in progress. Three offered no explanations. This tells me that writers now recognize a variety of practical options for the publication of their work, but they don’t always choose a method without first obtaining feedback and advice from one or several literary agents. I’m scrupulous about explaining that publishing contract advice needn’t come only from a literary agent.

I remain in contact with two writers whose work intrigued me last year. We may yet find ways to collaborate in 2013.

It should be impossible for excellent writers to remain undiscovered these days. Agents and publishers recognize the manuscripts with the most potential. Failing that, readers discover the most commercially viable self-published books. Either way, people recommend books to each other just as they’ve always done, and then a few titles become wildly popular and profitable each year.

Two big concerns about the recent transformations in trade book publishing persist into 2013:

• #1 – Bestselling authors can opt to leave their publishers if the authors calculate that they can earn more by self-publishing.
• #2 – Authors who self-publish books that sell poorly will take themselves out of the business, because, as the prolific Alexandre Dumas once noted, nothing succeeds like success.

For-profit publishers can’t complain about #2, because it has become much easier to analyze book sales data, and the information decreases publishers’ reliance on intuitive speculation and reduces their financial risks. It’s clear which sort of authors have an advantage now. Writers creatively vying for attention, more so than publishers’ selectivity, is what intensifies the competition.

This year, all of us will be trying to learn new ways of being the best at what we do.

How I’ll spend the month of July

I moved to Spartanburg, South Carolina, this spring and now have settled into a comfortable routine. Disruption for the literary agency was minimal, to be honest, and I’m loving the sunshine here in the Upstate.

I’ll be reading email queries from prospective clients during the month of July 2012, and I’m enthused about the possibility of finding a talented new writer to represent. It’s relaxing to be at this juncture.

I’m an optimist and an idealist. There’s no other way to be in publishing. I’m also, I hope, a bit of a buffer between my authors and the market, like the coating on aspirin that’s meant to make it gentler on the stomach. My pragmatism has been acquired with age.

I advise my clients what to expect during the process of getting a book published, so they aren’t quite as stressed by the relentlessness of the publishing assembly line or the challenges of book promotion. Occasionally, I’ve helped them to develop the technological expertise they need.

Some qualities, however, aren’t teachable. When I look at queries from writers, I’m not searching for the individual who’s a blank slate waiting to be transformed into a celebrity author. It doesn’t work that way. When I pore over the biographical data and manuscript excerpts and the relevant material a particular writer has made available in an online portfolio, I’m reading between the lines. I’m trying to eliminate the cynic, the narcissist, the bigot, the paranoid, the slacker. There are profitable media outlets for those kinds of writers, but they’re not the individuals I want as clients.

People expose themselves when they write, no matter what they write and regardless of how much care they take to present themselves as they would like to be perceived. The sensation of a person’s inner character is the vibe that alerts me, and it’s risky to disregard my instinctive reaction to it. I don’t need to waste the time, and I’ve learned not to.

I have brilliant clients—insightful, intelligent, energetic, fearless, and good-natured—as their publishers also would tell you. That’s a lot for me and any new clients to live up to.

Now, if you’ve noticed an intriguing writer whose work you believe I should consider, send me a private email message. Let’s see what happens in July…

Images courtesy of Dezinerfolio

Representing literary fiction

It’s a mistake to think that only a handful of literary agents are negotiating publication deals with the best-known publishers of literary fiction. Acquiring editors deal with a good mix of literary agencies every season.

A couple of years ago, I analyzed a six twelve-month set of sales data made available to Publishers Marketplace subscribers and found that editors who acquired literary fiction were doing business with many different agents. The statistics assured me that editors are judging submitted manuscripts on the stories’ and the authors’ merits. They aren’t simply screening out anything that isn’t represented by a big agency, which is fortunate for my clients and me, because my agency is tiny.

The editors with whom I’ve spoken and corresponded, from the largest trade book publisher to the smallest, have been unfailingly courteous. I’ve asked a few whether it matters to them where a literary agency is located, and not one has given any indication that geographical location is of any consequence to them these days. Of course, a Manhattan agency’s address signifies prestige to some authors, and that will continue to influence who approaches me regarding representation. But times are changing.

Over the weekend, I was looking through the Pushcart Prize XXXVI anthology and thinking of Cliff Garstang’s literary magazine rankings, which he bases on where the annual Pushcart prizewinning stories originally appeared. My clients appreciate Garstang’s work sorting out the top literary magazines.

Authors typically submit their short stories, essays, and poetry to literary magazines on their own. I talk to my clients about litmag submissions. I don’t handle the submissions for them, except in rare circumstances. It’s probably safe to say that’s the norm.

Nevertheless, I was curious about which literary agents represent the authors of the most recent Pushcart prizewinning fiction and essays. A list might denote the agents’ taste and choice of clientele, nothing more.

I was able to identify agents for less than a third of the authors whose stories and essays were selected for the anthology, which seems logical. Poetry constitutes a good portion of the winners, and most poets don’t have or require literary agents, unless they also write nonfiction books or novels. Writers sometimes use pseudonyms for their more commercial work, which could make it a challenge to associate the writers with their agents. And some of the authors of the Pushcart prizewinning stories might not have completed a book-length work yet. For a variety of reasons, I wouldn’t expect all of the writers to be represented by agents or for the agents’ identities to be discoverable.

It’s impossible to be certain if the author-agent business relationship is current in each instance, but the list is still interesting to me. I’m pleased to be in such good company. As far as I can tell, these are the agents whose clients’ work appears in the latest Pushcart Prize anthology. The accomplishment belongs entirely to the writers. We’re fortunate to work with such talented clients. (I haven’t listed the authors, just in case any of the information is out of date, but if you want the list, I’ll email it to you.)

Jin Auh & The Wylie Agency (three authors)
Charlie Campbell
Nina Collins
Elaine Devlin
Anthony Goff
Jill Grinberg
Esmond Harmsworth
Ellen Levine
Gloria Loomis
Robin Mizell
Zoe Pagnamenta
Denise Shannon (two authors)
Geri Thoma
Amanda Urban
Stephanie von Hirschberg

If you happen to know of any agents I missed, please let me know, and I’ll add them.

Working with a literary agent

My title for this post won’t please any SEO experts, although the phrase contains the operative word working. Working says it all.

When I read aspiring authors’ blogs and the questions they post on sites devoted to providing step-by-step instructions for getting published, it sometimes seems as though writers view obtaining representation by an agent—rather than connecting readers with their books—as their final goal. Am I mistaken, or is there a widespread assumption that there’s no work left for the writer to do after an agent accepts the job of finding a publisher for the writer’s work?

Maybe this notion originates from the fact that there are dead writers whose titles sell very well, thank you, without any effort from the authors. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking, because completing a manuscript that’s brilliant enough to attract an agent’s attention can require of the writer a decade of hard work. Or maybe it’s human nature to want to kick back and watch someone else take over the job whenever possible.

There’s a species of micromanaging author, however, that recognizes the need to be constantly concerned with the business of his or her career. The word micromanage has the wrong connotation, but I prefer to work with writers who remain closely involved in the process of publishing, marketing, and promoting their books. When authors demonstrate that they care, then publishers, designers, publicists, booksellers, librarians, and readers respond by caring. That makes me happy.

Working with a literary agent involves real effort. Collaboration. Teamwork. It’s not the winning outcome of the writer’s game. It’s more like halftime.

Robin Mizell Ltd: 2011 agency statistics

Four months ago, I started thinking about my agency’s annual statistics, wondering how many manuscripts I typically need to read in order to find a new client. Now, the results for 2011 are in. As it turns out, I read 14 full manuscripts last year and, from that selection, offered to represent one new client.

The other relevant statistic is the number of contacts with writers that led me to ask for the opportunity to read those 14 full manuscripts. All told, there were 300 contacts—in the form of queries submitted to my agency, pitches at writers’ conferences that inspired me to ask for queries or manuscripts, my inquiries sent to writers whose work I admired, and referrals from authors and publishers.

Let me break it down to make it easier to visualize:

• 300 writers asked me, or were asked if they’d like me, to consider their work
• 14 (4.66%) of those writers were invited to send me their full manuscripts
• 1 (0.33%) then became my client

As it turns out, the numbers change from year to year, because I don’t always solicit queries continuously from January through December, yet the percentages remain roughly the same. In 2009, the bottom line was 0.5%. In 2010, it was 0.36%. In 2011, it was 0.33%. There’s some logic apparent.

There might also be a bit of hidden logic, though I hope I don’t live to regret the suggestion. It appears that after I’ve been working with a client for a year or two, it becomes more profitable to invest my time in that client’s career (licensing subsidiary rights, coaching on marketing and self-promotion, etc.) than it would be for me to spend the same amount of time searching for a new client to add to my agency’s roster. However, there’s a catch. This particular cost-benefit analysis holds true only if the existing clients happen to be as talented and productive as mine are!

Which brings the logic back around, full circle, to the reason my clients are, shall we say, the less than one percent.

(OK, I just couldn’t resist.)