Posted on November 21, 2010 by betsylerner
I have to go fast because this is a pay computer in a Sheraton in Miami Beach. I’m down here for the Miami Book Fair, which is a fantastically vibrant event with tons of booksellers, authors, street performers, sausages, you name it. After my agent panel, I signed books for a half hour or so. I was very moved by a few people who brought in old dog eared hardcovers and told me how much the book meant to them. One woman, with the beautiful face of a Mayan sculpture, told me that she never used to speak in her writing class or share her work. Her professor, sick of her oracular silence, insisted she write the last lines of her diary on the board. She wrote, “all I have left to do is die.” This woman then told me that he called her into his office and gave her a copy of my book. She told me read it ten times. I really didn’t know what to say. It was almost too much to take in. I silently hoped that he also gave her the name of the campus counseling service.
It’s hard to know what’s true in this world. Hard to know if the full moon over Miami wasn’t a stage prop, fat as a face. It’s hard to know if the laughter around the pool wasn’t forced, or the lamb chops cooked to perfection were fully appreciated by the dinner guests who floated above the calm water of a dark canal. Hadn’t we come to be wooed. Hadn’t we come to steal candy and laugh like children finding our way out of a strange labrynth of palm trees and howling dogs. Did I tell you I met Dave Eggers, my hero, CK Williams who is called Charlie, and Russell Banks, and Susan Cheever. Did I tell you that I cut myself off after two glasses of white wine because it was clear I was about to behave regrettably. And I’d like to be invited back.
For me, it was Ariel, the book that saved my life. What book saved you, or at least reminded you that you were not alone.
Filed under: Writers Conference | 69 Comments »
Posted on November 18, 2010 by betsylerner
I received over one hundred emails today — my inbox runneth over. I’ve heard from old bosses, booksellers, colleagues, friends, writers, beloved clients. I ‘ve heard from people I barely remember and people I slept with. I’ve heard from friends of the family, and family. I’ve heard from England, Holland, Italy, France, Korea, and Japan. I’ve heard from scouts, movie people, even other agents. I’ve heard from people I can’t stand who have treated me like crap and people who mentored me and helped me grow. I’ve heard from people I hate and people I love. But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one compares to you.
My mother congratulated me and then said, “why do you think it won?” And that, my friends, is all you really need to know about me.
What do we need to know about you?
Filed under: Fame! Celebrity! Riches! | 62 Comments »
Posted on November 18, 2010 by betsylerner
Robert Mapplethorpe 1946-1989
“Many would not make it. Candy Darling died of cancer, Tinkerbelle and Andrea Whips took their lives. Others sacrificed themselves to drugs and misadventure. Taken down, the stardom they so desired just out of reach, tarnished stars falling from the sky. I feel no sense of vindication as one of the handfuls of survivors. I would rather have seen them all succeed, catch the brass ring. As it turned out, it was I who got one of the best horses.” Patti Smith, Just Kids, winner of the 2010 National Book Award
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Posted on November 17, 2010 by betsylerner
National Book Award reading tonight. This event lasted longer than the Academy Awards: Four hours from the welcome reception to the medal ceremony, to the reading (twenty authors, twenty!). Some of the authors were fantastic, a couple disappeared themselves, a few had that pronounced MFA way of reading where the breath comes at exactly the wrong beat in some sort of forced air way that is both counter-intuitive and not. I fell in love with the poet Terrance Hayes. Patti was wonderful. I sat in the audience as if watching my child’s first violin recital; prouder I could not have been.
So tomorrow’s the big night. I’m not the kind of person who says “whatever happens we’re all winners,” or “the journey is more important than the destination.” Even if it’s true it sounds so gross. Though I have to admit that the best part of tonight was hearing so many voices, and thinking about all the work it took for each writer to arrive at this moment in his or her life.
So give me your acceptance speech, the one you tuck into your pocket just in case.
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Posted on November 15, 2010 by betsylerner
If I can’t have a little mental breakdown on my blog where can I? In other words, sorry for yesterday and thanks for so many notes of encouragement. “Sometimes I think my head is so big because it’s so full of dreams.” Sometimes I think my head is so big because I’m going to the National Book Awards reading tomorrow night and the awards ceremony Wednesday. Sometimes I think my head is shoved up my ass.
Many have asked: what am I wearing to the National Book Awards. You know it’s going to be one of those last minute decisions that I’ll make with my gut: my black suit or, er, my black suit. Some want to know if I will be wearing heels. No. Will I get my hair blown out. No. Nails done? No? Accessories? No, no, no. I will clean my glasses with sudsy hot water. I will floss.
I expect my pumpkin to turn into a cab, my dog into a great gold Palomino, and my fairy godmother to appear either as Elizabeth Bishop or Beyonce. Steve Martin will be my prince or a footman. Sonny Mehta will be the king and I will kiss his ring. James Frey will be the jester in a coat he borrowed from James Dean. The night will be magical. I won’t look at my blackberry but once and then it will be a minute to midnight. And then we will know what we’ve known along.
If I could grant you one (writing) wish, what would it be?
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Posted on November 14, 2010 by betsylerner
Am I the last person to find out Houdini was Jewish? Was this all about trying to get away from his mother, or what?
I was on a panel of literary agents the other day at the New School. I doubt I’m the only person to ever enjoy an existential crisis while giving advice about query letters, but today the hammer fell hard. It began the day before in therapy where I went into a fugue state while trying to understand why I never took the leap as a writer, how it is I’ve worked to help so many writers accomplish their goals while my nose remains pressed up to the glass. (Meow, meow.) From there I went to a burrito cart and that was just the beginning. Was it a coincidence that this happened on the same day that an essay I wrote was published? And then there’s the fact that I stood up for myself when the editor wanted to cut the bit about blow jobs.
It looks like progress, it smells like progress, and yet there are the egg shells of my life spread out on the pavement, there I am ricocheting off the sides of a well, down, down, down. I have a set of beliefs I don’t believe in. I have a set of rules I don’t abide. I am still fifteen years old and I hate everything and everyone. I am Houdini only I can’t escape. I am a chameleon that forgot how to change. Writing is a urine stained cardboard box in Washington Square Park where someone lives who isn’t me.
Does anyone know what I mean?
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Posted on November 11, 2010 by betsylerner
A guy from Amazon came to our agency to talk about (shark music) electronic books. Turns out he used to be a buyer at B&N. And before that he was (shark music) an agent. A little swag would have gone a long way, some free tote bags, mugs, Kindles. Just saying. Did you all know that you can electronically publish your book like right now by clicking here? And did you know that will get 70% of your earnings. How you get readers is another issue, and one we can talk about. But for the moment just take it in: your novel could be published and available for sale to anyone who can down load before the current episode of Law and Order is over.
They (shark music), Amazon, have some other pretty interesting programs they’re working on for e-books. I have to admit, I felt like packing a suitcase and polishing up my resume. But then I remembered the mandatory drug testing and figured I should stay put. Then the guy said he missed agenting, or was I dreaming that part? In any case, I realized that a lot has happened in the last three weeks since I rode on the back of that motorbike in Paris, but among the amazing things was realizing that I have this ringside seat to watching intensely creative people paint themselves in corners and box their way out. And how much I love my clients (yes, you too, even after that shit fit yesterday). Okay, enough. I’m starting to sound like I give a shit.
If you had one question for Jeff Bezos, what would it be?
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Posted on November 10, 2010 by betsylerner
Sitting on another late train home opening my mail. All the usual stuff, droves of fan mail, scores of query letters, and then a letter from The Writer Magazine. They want to excerpt five pages from my opus The Forest for the Trees and they will pay $200 clams.
My friends, you may think that this means little to a power agent such as myself. But you would be wrong. Every dime a writer makes from writing is a direct hit to the ego. It’s the ca-ching Samuel Johnson was talking about.Getting paid for writing is like having sex in a bathroom stall at Phoebe’s Bar on the Bowery.
What’s the least amount of money you ever got paid for writing and what was it for?
Filed under: Fame! Celebrity! Riches!, Writing, You Go Girl | 53 Comments »
Posted on November 9, 2010 by betsylerner
I’m posting from the train from my blackberry so please forgive the even greater number of errors. I saw my psychopharmacologist today. I see him every four months for a tune up. He’s French. I’ve been going to him for a hundred years. He knows how I am just from looking at me.
I feel this way about some of my writers. It was easier when there was no email and we were forced to talk. I could usually tell by the way they said hello when they answered the phone if they were productive, stuck, depressed, manic, suspicious, blazed, or loaded for bear (whatever the fuck that means). It’s more difficult to tell how someone is on email, easier to hide. Silences are also tricky. I don’t like it when I haven’t heard from a client in too many months. I often make a mental note to call but then the day goes to the squeaky wheels.
I’m starving. I talked to students at City College tonight. So cool. I’m missing Glee re-run. It was worth it. Big day tomorrow. Five meetings starting with breakfast with the new editor in chief of Hyperion.
What meds are you on?
Filed under: Uncategorized | 43 Comments »
Posted on November 8, 2010 by betsylerner
This just in: Nathan Bransford is quitting agenting. He’s the biggest agent blogger I know of and he’s trading in his agenting badge for honest work. According to Galley Cat, he plans to continue his blog and forums, etc, but naturally there will changes up ahead. I recommend his blog to many people who ask me for useful advice because it is down to earth, smart, concise, and basically right on target with all the advice. That said, if you are one of his million followers and are in the mood for something a little different, please give my blatantly narcissistic, positively negative, wholly abject, downcast, and embittered blog a try. Ditto for all the people who have been handing out the blogging awards to Bransford. We have a hugely self-destructive and vaguely suicidal project underway over here and we’d be glad to share some of that glory now that the king is stepping down.
I’m hoping to monetize the misery mid-2011 if at all possible. Can I get blood from this cold stone? Someone suggested I write a book based on the blog. Ha ha, I did it other way round. What a maroon. Anyway, Mr. Bransford, agent and gentleman, we will bid you adieu from the dark side of living off the backs of writers, au revoir to 15% percent commish and enjoy a real salary. Most of all, thank you for helping me when I was getting started with my project. Your generosity is as infectious as is your love for books and the writing process. I wish you well in your new endeavor. I’m sure your clients will miss you enormously.
Here’s tonight’s question: how hard would you cry if I left? Only kidding. (As if anyone would employ me.) Here’s tonight’s question: an agent, an editor and a writer walk into a bar. Which one buys the drinks?
Filed under: Agent, You Go Girl | 42 Comments »
