To give you a tiny background of the goings on with my literary agent over the last two years, it went something like this:
She was excited to take me on as a client (woohoo)! (3rd week of September)
She was equally excited (aka overwhelmed) because she had been made a junior partner at the agency, was getting married the following weekend, going on a honeymoon and then moving to a new condo with hubby upon her return.
Uh-oh. Someone's got a lot on their plate.
We spoke on the phone exactly twice - the first time, she had many plans for my book - the first of which was to pitch it at a publisher's market in Europe at the end of October.
(woohoo x 2)!
The second time we spoke on the phone, she got me mixed up with someone else and didn't remember my particular project. She also denied ever having discussed the convention in Europe. "How could it possibly be ready"?
I reminded her that I had not simply sent her my non-fiction proposal but had actually finished the entire manuscript before I even approached them for representation.
Which told me that she hadn't even read it.
(Double Uh-oh. Someone doesn't give a shit).
But, she assured me she would polish up my proposal and send it out in November.
(deflated woohoo!)
Fine.
End of November, her email:
"I'm not going to send out your proposal until after Xmas because everyone is starting to go on holidays and besides publishers have already spent their budget for the year. But first thing in January..."
Okay. I'm not happy, but I'm buying the argument. I didn't have the guts to ask her if she even read it yet. The proposal was good enough for her. I guess it's good enough for me.
End of January, her email:
"Okay, I've sent it out! Fingers crossed!"
I'm happy. Hopeful. Patient.
six months later, still nothing. I send a follow-up email. She responded with this:
"One publisher rejected it on the grounds that there wasn't a big enough market for a book on Internet dating... a second publisher rejected it on the grounds that the market was already saturated with too many books on Internet dating, so if you have anything else to send us, feel free!"
(Triple uh-oh. My book is dead in the water).
Now I'm demoralized.
I can't write much of anything for a few months. But I was working full-time and throwing around ideas - maybe I need to do something... different?
Eventually, I start working on another book - a completely different genre for a completely different audience - upper middle school, fiction.
But something didn't feel right.
I can't wrap my head around the fact that I had gotten loads of positive feedback on my first book and that Internet dating is the 3rd largest revenue producer on the Internet.
Not a big enough market? I think not. Saturated? Given my platform, my research, and the numbers, impossible. That's like saying there are enough restaurants in the world so nobody should bother starting a new one.
Food and Love. Both are necessities.
But my self-esteem had taken a huge hit. Not because of the rejections, but because of how it played out. And now I was doubting my writing. Not the process... but my actual ability to write ANYTHING.
After all, if my lit agent couldn't be bothered to read the damn thing, then how interesting could it have been?
A few months later I get an email:
"Good news! I will be going on mat leave in two weeks! So excited to be introducing a new member to our household. The owner of the lit agency will be taking on all my clients so if you have anything new to send him, please do so." Best, A.
Official end of story.
It had been a year and a half since she had first taken me on.
I never got a real report, never got proof that she sent anything anywhere, and she never touched base with me as a human being. Had I not initiated contact sporadically, I would have disappeared in her files.
Which I in effect, did.
So I waited. Again. Maybe the new agent would have something to say. He was after all, the owner.
Silence.
But I was under contract. If by some miracle, I could get this thing off the ground myself, they were entitled to their 15% whether they did anything or not.
The other argument I considered was that it's bloody hard to get an agent.
And I was on the verge of terminating my contract.
I have to be honest here. The thought of giving up something that was hard to retain in the first place was scaring the shit out of me.
On the other hand, what kind of power did they have on me psychologically?
But before I cut the umbilical cord of my literary career, I decided to send the new agent/owner an email asking if he was looking into my file or was planning on doing anything with the book.
When he responded with "Nope. She did her best", I sent an email asking him how I could go about officially getting out of my contract. "Do I send a letter, etc."?
His response was:
"Your email was good enough. Consider yourself out of a contract. Best of luck with your work".
Wow. That was WAY easier than getting them to actually DO anything. And what an awesomely FAST response!
All told, I was 2 months shy of a stagnating two year relationship with this agency.
I never grieved for a moment over the loss of what has grown in reputation as a hot and impossible commodity - the elusive literary agent.
I felt nothing but great and grand relief. And a renewed possibility in this project, and in myself.
I felt my sense of personal power returning. I was now in control of my own destiny again. And if I fell flat on my face, it wasn't going to be because someone else was in charge.
I kinda like being responsible for my own screw-ups. Or my successes.
And in the end, I realized that it wasn't the success or failure of my book that mattered most...
Yes, it's about hard work, perseverance (and to some extent, destiny)...
But mostly, it's about THE FEELING...
Sustaining the right FEELING, paying attention to what you are FEELING, to the messages those FEELINGS are sending you, might be the single most important factor that determines the quality of your life.
But I am starting to get that FEELING back...
And here, is that FEELING in progress...
www.cyberlovemuse.com
