Agent | Betsy Lerner

First You Love Me Then You Hate Me

Posted on September 16, 2010 by betsylerner

Dear Betsy,
I signed on with a prominent New York agent to represent my debut novel, but in the end she wasn’t able to sell it. (She only tried selling to some of the big houses.) Despite the fact that most of the editors wrote glowing reports about my novel, they were hesitant to take a chance on it in this difficult market. My agent and I have now parted ways. Is it a waste of time searching for a new agent? Will I be considered “tainted goods”? I would really appreciate some sage advice. I am not sure how to proceed.

Thanks so much!

Dear Tainted:

I’m afraid it’s over. Not all aspiring writers understand that when you make a submission to Joe Blow at Random House, that he speaks for Random House. If he rejects it, you do not have the opportunity to try his colleague Jane Blow down the hall. You get exactly one chance at every house. When we make up a submission list, we think long and hard about which editor to send it to because you only get this one shot. So a new agent will not be able to resubmit for you if your agent basically covered the waterfront. Your parenthetical about your agent only going to big houses — that’s appropriate and what most agents do. You, however, can try small presses and should. Look at Tinkers. You need to find a new agent when you have a new work. Why did you guys break up? It sounds like you had a lot of close calls and much reason to think the next book might sell. I hope you’re back on the mule. Thanks for writing.

Commenters: can we have some spectacularly nasty stories about break-ups with editors and agents to get us through the night?

Filed under: Agent, Protocol | 30 Comments »

May You Bloom and Grow

Posted on August 31, 2010 by betsylerner

This post is a little out of keeping with the blog’s usual dyspeptic take on life and publishing, and I apologize if I offend anyone. But today, dear readers, I am in love with my clients. No, I am in awe of them, inspired by them, grateful for them. And I’m not just talking about a certain someone whose life story garnered FIVE EMMYS on Sunday night including best actress and best movie made for television.

I’m talking about the ones who are toiling away without a whole lot of recognition, or working through crushing depression, or books that haven’t sold. I am so moved by the stories that are unfolding, sometimes even surprising the authors themselves. I am blown away by a few projects that have come in far more ambitious and accomplished than promised, and those who are wrestling their editorial letters to the ground, unclear who will prevail. And unexpected moments of politeness, or sweetness, or silliness with a writer long hardened by the process.

I am grateful for being the old woman who lives in this shoe, with this unruly pack of artists and thieves. Tomorrow, back to bile, blood-letting and general ill will.

Filed under: Agent, Authors | 20 Comments »

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face*

Posted on August 19, 2010 by betsylerner

I have a bad habit. Okay, I have several, but here’s the one I’m most proud of: I think I can tell how somebody writes by looking at their author photo. And basically that’s how I decide which of the Important Books to skip, because really, who has time to read them all? Before you have a freakout about how mean I am, I swear it’s not a beauty contest. It’s more subtle than that. There are some bushy browed dogs out there who still do it for me, who really seem to inhabit their faces the way the voice inhabits the page. I’m looking at you Philip Roth. Not a beauty, but a Dick That Gets the Job Done. Ditto Bukowski, says my friend Sean. Maybe Fran Lebovitz isn’t a conventional beauty, but I like the vibe she gives off in a photo.

Jonathan Franzen, not so much. I mean, way to man up for the cover of Time, homie. I know he’s America’s Author, but all I see is America’s milquetoast. I suppose he’s conventionally handsome and the article mentions his perfectly tossled hair, but I look at his face and I think of the word limpid. I flash back to how he deprived Oprah’s masses of his gifts on the grounds that he didn’t want to, or something. I see pictures of Jonathan Franzen and I think of all the emo narcies who ever tried to teach me to crochet. Five bucks says he sits down to pee.

This is why I haven’t finished The Corrections and why I’m making it my Life’s Goal to make it through the new novel. I have a feeling it’s a much more rigorous Forrest Gump. Even as I write this I feel that guilty tug of you guys in my ear: You don’t even know what you’re talking about. All the reviews are raves. Read it before you judge. But I’m telling you I’ve already made up my mind.

Botox. I’m not against it. There is a way to use injectables in moderation, so that you still look like you’re made of flesh. But Mary Karr: frozen in bitchface. Can’t read her stuff, don’t like her attitude. I imagine if she were a visual artist, she’d paint in menstrual blood. Her perma-scowl makes me want to pick a fight about the origins of her stupid faith.

For Botox done well, see John Grisham, Jackie Collins and Justin Bieber.

Who can’t you help but loathe on sight?

* Erin Hosier, whose blog style is “on the rag,” is not the same person as Betsy Lerner, whose blog style is “perimenopausal” and on vacation.

Filed under: Agent, Authors, Bestseller, Books, Literary Agent, Media, Uncategorized, Writers | 53 Comments »

Picture Yourself In a Train In a Station

Posted on August 10, 2010 by betsylerner

Going to a writer’s conference tomorrow where I hope to inform and inspire. Who am I kidding? I’m hoping to sell books. Lots of ’em. And try not to devastate or discourage anyone too much, or sound like a yappy insider.

These gatherings are always anxiety producing because you know that most of the people hate you, or the you that is the face of publishing, the wall of rejection that seems too tall to scale. And no matter how many tricks of the trade you divulge or yucks you get, you still feel a little shabby, a little complicit, a lot insincere even though you really mean what you’re saying and are grateful to anyone with your book in their hands which seems like a small miracle.

You know these things are valuable but want to say go home. Write. And don’t come out until you have a book. You want to say, this isn’t for you, this writing business. You want to say self-publish, release an e-book, buy Barnes and Noble (it’s up for sale). You want to say climb a tower with a megaphone, go to the Dead Sea, learn braille, imagine kissing the person sitting next to you. You want to say eat fried rice, drink martinis with your client’s parents and throw up in the Four Seasons. Or say: get insurance, think about your footwear and ordering well and what your manicurist is whispering to her friend as she rubs cheap cream into the palm of your hand. You don’t need me. You don’t need anyone. Writing is not a river from which you can save yourself. Let the current take you. Let the rocks be rocks. The water cold or bath warm. May we all rot. May we not be reminded that even the dead were once schoolchildren, plaid, small, willing.

What would you tell them?

Filed under: Agent, The End of the World as We Know It | 22 Comments »

Solid As a Rock

Posted on August 2, 2010 by betsylerner

After being away, I was excited to see what the postman had for me in my Ask Betsy Account. What do I get: bullshit. First, let it be known here and now and for all time: I do not need Cialis. I can still get it up, thank you very much. And I can keep it up. And I know what to do with it. So basta with the Viagra ads. NEXT, stop pitching bad projects and paragraphs full of bad plots for women’s (kotex) fiction. I don’t read it. I don’t like it. If you want to do this, send it to my LITERARY AGENCY WHERE I WORK at: mail@dclagency.com and an intern will reject it and I will never have to lose my boner.

Here are some choice tidbits from my mail box:

“Your photograph displayed on Agent Friday took me by complete surprise. I honestly had no idea you were so attractive. I had you pictured quite the opposite. And no, I’m not hitting on you. I live over a thousand miles away and I’ll be damned if I’m going to saddle up and ride that far in this heat.”

“…the first novel that’s earned the right to leave my desk drawer. I’d like to think it deserves your representation.”

“I think I have what it takes to write a book. I don’t think I have what it takes to land an agent. Does that make sense? Or am I just being a big baby? (you can tell me). Do I need to man up? I think I’ve run out of agents to query, anyway. Does this need to be an amazing book? Does it need a real publisher? ”

“Suppose I want to write fiction under a pseudonym in order to free myself of certain cognitive blocks during the writing process…”

“Whatever your intention for writing your book, I’ve molded it into a love story between the two of us. (Of course, not in the sicko you better get a P.I. to have me checked-out way.) You seem to bleed love for books … a physical reaction we share. And, I am committing to this affair with everything I’ve got. My fantasy novel (ignoring the fact that I’m using the word novel to describe its current state of ten-thousand words) has recently been dusted off and new plots and sub-plots are taking form as well as new pages are being written. This is in a very large part due to your sexy chapters. I’ve been tantalized and titillated, and feel guilty in that I’ve always felt better when the woman finishes first.”

Dearest readers of this blog. I’m now going to take a shower. Perhaps when I get out, someone will have a question.

Filed under: Agent, The End of the World as We Know It | 23 Comments »

The Trick You Said Was Never Play the Game Too Long

Posted on June 15, 2010 by betsylerner

Choose me!

A few weeks ago, I received an email from a writer letting me know that another agent had offered him representation. The agent wanted an answer by the end of day Friday. I was way behind the eight ball having not yet received the proposal. Plus, the other agent had put a clock on the process.

Anyhoo, I spent a few hours reading and rereading the proposal because I really liked the writing, thought the idea was saleable, terrific title, but I also felt it needed some work. It needed to be more intense, to build more, in order to pay off. I called the writer, we spoke for close to an hour about my editorial concerns. Then about marketing, platform, etc. He seemed to click with my ideas. I hung up thinking we had a great conversation; I hoped to get the client.

Next day, email arrives. Turns out he had a half dozen offers of representation. It boiled down to me and someone else (you say that to all the girls). He explains that he went with the other person for reasons largely intangible. In other words, I was a great lay but smell you later. I want to reply with two words: big mistake.

Instead I say, write the best book you can. I say, you’ve got a lot of talent. I wish him well and I actually mean it. That said, I ask if I may know the identity of the victorious agent so that I may take out my voodoo doll. Writer gamely tells me. Readers, I was so hoping for it to be an agent I loathe, which is sort of like looking for a haystack in a haystack. But alas, it was one of the smartest and loveliest agents in the biz.

I put my pins away.

Filed under: Agent, Rejection, Writers | 15 Comments »

When I Found Out Yesterday

Posted on June 9, 2010 by betsylerner

Today, a new media person came to our office and told us about her company and what it can do for authors. It’s a very interesting model and if you have the right kind of book/platform, it looks like you can really make some bank. I’m intrigued, but it also makes me feel very Rip Van Winkly.

Later in the day, a rejection letter came in that was so kind and smart that I nearly wept. No publishing jargon about cups of tea or falling between stools. Just a straight up smart read from an editor who is old school and by that I mean she reads her own manuscripts and writes her own letters and has strong opinions which she expresses politely.

Then I wrote a very good letter to a very famous author asking for a very big favor. Getting blurbs is the equivalent of big game hunting for sedentary publishing types like myself with big beautiful asses. Please god of the blurbs, rain on me.

Then I helped my partner choose editors for a submission he is making. This is like culling a list together for a dinner party. Then I got an email from a prospective client who says another agent is interested in her. I hadn’t even received the material. Am I being played? I don’t care — it sounds great. I’ll take a peek on the train tonight. The thing about reading under these circumstances is that you naturally feel competitive and read it differently as a result. Note to self: cool jets. It was a perfect query letter, the project comes with a killer title; has this little darling been reading my blog??

And the day didn’t end there, chit chat in the elevator with a publisher, lunch with a southern author and her marvelous drawl and bright blue eyes, doing the memo on two contracts (boring), gossiping about Bill Clegg (not boring), etc. etc.

Tell me about your writing day if you like. What did you get done? Any good gossip?

Filed under: Agent, The End of the World as We Know It | 21 Comments »

Address It To My Wife

Posted on May 24, 2010 by betsylerner

As you could have probably guessed, my “Ask Betsy” feature of the blog is getting a lot of traffic. However, most of the emails are not questions. Most readers are using it to pitch their projects. So, it’s sort of a slush pile/question box. At first, I was really pissed about it. It’s not at all difficult to find my agency email for chrissakes. Then I thought maybe I was being too uptight. I mean for fuck’s sake, who cares where a great project comes from, my agency email, my blog email, my ass. So I dutifully read through the queries hoping to discover the next Ordinary People (according to publishing lore, it was found in the slush).

So far, no luck. Needle, meet haystack. What does bother me is that I actually do answer all of these queries and then the person writes again and asks me to look at a nonfiction project once I explain that I’m not taking on fiction. Or, they ask me to review an alternative pitch, or recommend other agents, or give them a detailed critique of their writing. I could do all of these things, but I have to charge. A LOT.

I really love the questions and if you have one I’d love to hear from you. If you want to pitch your project, then please send it to Mail@dclagency.com and address it to my attention. But please understand that I will not respond as your lovable self-loathing blogger but rather as the hard-hearted bitch agent that I am.

Filed under: Agent, Protocol | 17 Comments »

Let’s Play Twister, Let’s Play Risk

Posted on May 13, 2010 by betsylerner

If you want excellent advice on how to write a pitch letter, go to Nathan Bransford’s blog, or to Janet Reid’s check list, or Rachelle Gardener’s guidelines. OR, come, sit back, and watch me light myself on fire. I’m going to write a mock query letter for a project I’ve abandoned as a way to describe the kinds of things I look for in a letter.

Salutation: Dear FIRST AND LAST NAME. (I don’t like too familiar and I don’t like too formal.)

The one sentence pitch: I hope you might be interested in my memoir, The Potter’s Apprentice, which describes a year of pottery lessons between an octogenarian teacher and his last student: me.

Alternatives: I met you last year at Breadloaf where we spoke briefly about my project, The Potter’s Apprentice. OR, I am a great fan of your clients X and Y, and hope my work might be of interest to you. OR, I read your blog religiously and, perhaps magically, imagine that you might take to my work.

The body: It had been nearly thirty years since I studied pottery and I didn’t miss it. But one afternoon, down a quiet side street in New Haven’s East Rock neighborhood, a sign caught my eye: Pottery Lessons. What followed was a year of classes with a master potter, an 82 year old whose craft dazzled me. Between fending off his advances, listening to his tales of the Blitz and mutliple marriages, and letting myself put the blackberry down for two hours and take in the clay, the darling garden, and the wheezing of an old hound, an unlikely friendship developed between the old potter and me. The book is also a meditation on marriage, on love, and on clay. Done right, I hope it will appeal to readers of (we need two good examples here).

The bio: As for me, I received an MFA from Columbia. I was the recipient of (fill in the blanks). My writing has appeared in x,y,z. You can read more about me on my website xxxo.

Many thanks for your time,

Betsy Lerner

ADD PHONE AND EMAIL

Be brutal: would you request the manuscript if you were an agent? What worked for you and what didn’t? How could it be improved upon?

Filed under: Agent, Protocol, Publishing, Query, Writers | 39 Comments »

All Because There Was No Driver On the Top

Posted on May 12, 2010 by betsylerner

I’ve known authors over the years who balk at boiling down their book to a few sentences. “I”m not good at it,” they cry. I’m sympathetic; it’s extremely difficult to do, and may be impossible when you are in the middle of it. It takes time to figure out what a book is really about, as they are often about so many things. But it’s critical if you want to hook someone. Just imagine yourself at a party. You discover someone writes. You ask, what is your book about? They reply with a five minute plot description. I would guess that by the end of thirty seconds you find yourself wishing you were never born. Now imagine the writer responding, “It’s about a woman who kills her therapist.”