Echoes in a Hollow Space

I had me the nicest wish fulfillment dream last night. I dreamed I got an email from an agent named Anna Scott in the office of some BN agent I’d sent my ms. of Shivery Bones to. (I marketed the hell out of Shivery Bones and decided it was time to give that one a rest and move on to something else, but apparently, the old submariner part of my brain hasn’t given up flogging it.)

Not only did Anna of my dreams love the book and want to represent me, she’d even done preliminary checking with an editor at one of the big houses and they wanted to offer me $100,000(!). I met with her and we hit it off and I said, “Yes, I want you to represent me and I will sell this book to them for $100,000.” The End and everyone lived HEA.

Yes, I know. That would never happen in RL. Wish fulfillment! Straight from the land of the Happy Fairies of Nod!

I’d been awake a couple of hours before I remembered that Anna Scott was the name of the Julia Roberts character in Notting Hill (a wish fulfillment fantasy if there ever was one) (one that I happen to love, being a wish fulfillment fantasy kinda gal). I googled the name and there is a talent agent named Anna Scott, but no literary agents that I could see.

It would have been nice if it had been a wish fulfillment fantasy with precognitive overtones, but alas…

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

In case you missed this over at writerunboxed I can highly recommend this agent's roundtable featured at Poets and Writers Magazine. It's long, but well worth the trek.

As the roundtable continues and the wine continues to flow, they get more and more candid. I thought pages 3 and 4 were especially interesting, as was the page 5 "Agents Anonymous" where they agreed to be extra frank as long as none of the comments were attributed. If you're in the agent-hunting game, this is useful information.

Excerpt from the Agents Anonymous section:

What are the dumbest mistakes that writers can make in terms of dealing with their editor or agent?
Saying bad things about them. Ever.

Sending seventeen e-mails about seventeen different things in one day. I mean, put it all together in one e-mail and think about whether you really need to be asking these questions. Think about how busy your editor is.

Going over your editor's head unnecessarily.

When they don't tell you about their next project. For example, they've written a great thriller that you sell, and then they write a horror novel. They say, "Guess what? I just wrote a horror novel." You're standing there with this horror novel and thinking, "What am I going to do with this?" They have to communicate about what they're thinking about doing next.

Be very careful about what you blog. Not just talking about the publisher once you're being published, but even before that. If I am submitting your book to publishers and an editor wants to buy it, they're probably going to Google you before they even call me. And if they find things out there that are curious or disturbing? Just know that whatever you're putting online is going to influence their perception of you.

If you take my rejection letter and post it on your Web site, there are few other agents who are going to be willing to put anything in writing to you. We look upon those writers in a bad way.

I've created an LJ feed for the lit agency, Dystel and Goderich: dglm

You may have seen this already several times, but you can't call scumbags to account too many times as far as I can see.

Ann Crispin and Victoria Strauss are righteous women who have worked hard to nail scumbag agents and scammers at Writers Beware, hosted on the website Absolute Write. One of the scumbags, BARBARA BAUER, didn't like the fact that her crimes were being called to public attention, so she started threatening everyone under creation and tried to get legitimate editors, et al., fired for outing her. When that didn't work, she applied pressure to the pathetic heap who ran the ISP hosting them who shut down AW with an hour's notice. More information can be found here.


So, to show Scumbag Bauer (#4 with a bullet) she can't silence the message, here's the list of the Top 20 Worst Scammers in the business. Repost it!


* The Abacus Group Literary Agency

* Allred and Allred Literary Agents (refers clients to "book doctor" Victor West of Pacific Literary Services)

* Capital Literary Agency (formerly American Literary Agents of Washington, Inc.)

* Barbara Bauer Literary Agency

* Benedict & Associates (also d/b/a B.A. Literary Agency)

* Sherwood Broome, Inc.

* Desert Rose Literary Agency

* Arthur Fleming Associates

* Finesse Literary Agency (Karen Carr)

* Brock Gannon Literary Agency

* Harris Literary Agency

* The Literary Agency Group, which includes the following:

Children's Literary Agency

Christian Literary Agency

New York Literary Agency

Poets Literary Agency

The Screenplay Agency

Stylus Literary Agency (formerly ST Literary Agency)

Writers Literary & Publishing Services Company (the editing arm of the above-mentioned agencies)


* Martin-McLean Literary Associates

* Mocknick Productions Literary Agency, Inc.

* B.K. Nelson, Inc.

* The Robins Agency (Cris Robins)

* Michele Rooney Literary Agency (also d/b/a Creative Literary Agency and Simply Nonfiction)

* Southeast Literary Agency

* Mark Sullivan Associates

* West Coast Literary Associates (also d/b/a California Literary Services)

Quote of the day:

"You never learn to write a novel. You just learn how to write the novel that you're writing."

—Gene Wolf (quoted by Neil Gaiman)


Oh, shut up.

These things come out of the random quote file at random—hence, the name. But it's amazing how synchronous they can be sometimes. I hate being bitch slapped by the Universe.

Corporate attitude of the day:

Perky corporate booster: Hi! Can I hang this flyer for the third floor unwinder over your quote of the day?"

Me: Over the quote of the day? What a concept. No.

Perky: Oh, okay. Well, be sure to join us for socializing and pizza!

Me: Uh-huh.

Concerned Neighbor as Perky scampers off: She wanted to post that over the quote of the day?? What was she thinking??

[Please note: I had not yet had my coffee.]

Crankiness of the day:

Every time I do intensive agent research, like I have been for the last couple of weeks, my mood gets progressively worse. This cumulative badtudinage starts to effect the muse, choking him to unconsciousness. When he reaches a state of moribund repose, I know it's time to ignore the agents again and return to blissful ignorance.

I managed to get four queries out before choking this time.

And I don't need any help dragging my feet over the boffo conclusion to Night Warrior/Born to Darkness/A Title to be Named Later. At least twice in the last week I took my usual writing time to lock myself into an empty office and stare at the wall, thinking about anything but.

I'm something of a fan of staring at the wall and thinking. Solitude and reflection are good things. Filling up every moment with items from one's To Do list or entertainment or chat leads to a high noise ratio in the ol' soully woully, I think. Quiet, contemplation, reaching inward...yeah, quality of life time we should all indulge in to refresh the spirit and replenish the imagination.

But I got things to do, damn it! I can't afford to sit around on my ass during writing time drawlin' and a lollygaggin'! So irritating.

In other news:

I did have a fine time last night with the girls, however, watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory again and swilling wine. (Sangre de Toro, with a cute little bull charm hanging off the label. Hey, toro!) I even cooked—made my pasta with chicken, white wine, and artichoke hearts.

I really don't think the publishing industry owes me a damned thing. I don't think agents owe me anything, either. I'm a grown up girl and realize that just because I want something doesn't mean I'm entitled. I accept that reality. It's living with it that's sometimes difficult. But I accept that, too.

Why do I want to be published?

It has little to do with the sweet yearning at the heart of why I write.

♦ Part of why I want to be published is the need for validation. Except—accepting reality as I do—I know that publication does not equal validation. But getting published sure puts the cork in the mouth of Aunt Minnie who always said I was a fool to try anything in the arts. Who am I kidding? Nothing shuts up the Aunt Minnies of the world. So validation begins to look a little thin as a reason.

♦ Another part of it is so I'll have more than my friends reading my work. Here we're getting to the heart of something juicy. I can't tell you how amazed I was the first time I submitted my work to a public forum and people actually liked it—people who had no vested interest in saying it was good; no fear of hurting my feelings or seeming disloyal. Of course, my work wasn't (and isn't) universally acclaimed, but that was all right, too. Eventually. When I could accept that my first efforts weren't perfect and didn't need to be I took those first steps towards making my work better.

♦ There's also the bit about throwing myself out into the fray to see how I stack up, but the competition angle is not a main driver for me, never has been. I'd love to succeed, will work by butt off to get there, but for me it's not about jumping on someone's head and yelling, "I win!"

And none of the above has anything to do with why I write. Because when I have hit the 22nd chapter mile and realize I've come a long, long way—but still have 4.2 miles to go (or in my case, usually longer), there is nothing in validation, or readership, or competition that can help me get over the hump and finish the marathon. At the 22nd mile, all I know is that I'm tired, sick of the race, and I just want to lie down somewhere and sleep until Kingdom Come. And I swear I will never, ever do another one of these endurance tests.

But I finish. And I start another novel. Why?

After a little time off, a sweet, keening resonance vibrates through my psyche: a character steps out of the darkness and starts whispering his or her story. He shows me pictures of the place he lives; she introduces me to her relatives; he opens the window to the smells, tastes, touches of his reality. She cries out, "Please, give me my chance to live! Give me a shot at reality!"

Characters aren't real, but they do exist off the page: in my heart and imagination. And if I've done my work well, they can temporarily (and sometimes long-term) infect the dream reality of the people who have read my work.

That's why I write: in the hope of that resurrection of dreams. That's why I'll keep trying to get my work out there, despite the pitfalls and discouragement and endemic blues that follow most writers around. I accept the reality that it may not happen for me.

And I can live with that.