How I Got My Agent: A Success-Through-Perseverance Story
Thank God this isn’t a story about Bill, my pot-belly pig, who should have been named Houdini, amirite? (For a laugh at my expense, see my last post on Bill the Bastard.)
This post is mostly for my fellow writers, my colleagues on Twitter who struggle with the shitshow that is querying their book, who face disappointment and emotional roller-coasters on a daily basis, as they struggle to find literary success. But while writing this monster, I realize it’s full of back story, which is a no-no!, but I’m keeping it in anyway because maybe this post is also a little bit for me.
For two years I swam through sewage, much like Andy in “The Shawshank Redemption.” But I pushed through the shit, and…
I HAVE A LITERARY AGENT!
What follows is a story of how I got here (luck, perseverance, curse words, and lots of alcohol and coffee). It’s long, but… What can I say? I love stories.
Circa 1988: My first grade teacher gives me a book called FANCY FEET by Patricia Reilly Giff, because she knows I like to read. Do I like to read? I guess so.
I love “writing time” in first grade, when I am allowed to write stories and draw pictures on giant pieces of paper to display for my class. A year or two later, I am off and running with lined paper stapled together! “Help! It’s Going to Eat Me!” is a work of art. (Thanks, Mom, for saving these!)
Circa 1989: Dad installs KidWriter Gold onto the family computer, a program to create stories. Man, the years we gave print-outs of our stories as Christmas gifts… Talk about gold. (Right, Katie Downs?)
I have a huge pile of these, from 1988 to about 1996. It’s fun to see exactly when Dad shows me how to use WordPerfect:
Circa 1990: Mom and Dad take eight-year-old me to Boldt Castle in the Thousand Islands. It is both magical and crumbling, and, naturally, I imagine I live there. (Doesn’t everyone, though?)
Circa 1997: Mom and Dad take fifteen-year-old me to Watkins Glen State Park. It transports me. A tiny idea forms in my head: What would it be like to live here?
1997: I draft a “novel” (a/k/a a shitty short story) about a girl named Missy who escapes to an island that resembles Watkins Glen. She lives at Boldt Castle.
1998-2000: I write other stories, mostly about girls kissing boys.
2001-2002: I’m in college and I start to forget about my stories, because actually kissing boys is far more exciting than writing about it.
2002-2004: I completely forget about my stories because I want to be a Broadway star.
2005-2014: I graduate from college as an English major, get married, have three babies, work on alcohol tolerance, do not become a Broadway star. But life is fine, even though I am a little bit boring.
2015: I have an hour drive to work, so I listen to audio books. I begin to wonder what happened to that first short story I wrote. I find it on an old computer. It’s the one about a girl who lives at Boldt Castle and escapes to the gorge at Watkins Glen. I re-read it. It is utter horse shit, but it kind of excites me to think about fixing it up.
Spring, 2016: I read more and more YA books and fall in love with the immediacy of the emotion, the fast pace, the electric characters that champion each YA story. I tinker with my story, until I realize I’m not tinkering. I’m totally rewriting it as a YA, and I love it. But loving it isn’t enough. I want it to be good. Like, damn good. I want it to be the book I wish I’d read when I was fifteen. The story I wrote was crap, but there’s something there. The plot? No. The plot sucks. The characters? Maybe…? The setting? Absolutely, enough to keep going.
So I join writing groups online and find critique partners. God bless my earliest critique partners, Sierra Elmore and Roark Arnett, who read the worst versions of this manuscript.
I read Stephen King’s ON WRITING and decide this is it. I had abandoned writing for so long, but it is still in me. I am going to be a writer, and I am going to put this story in the hands of others. Fifteen-year-old Sarah would have cheered me on, because she loved the idea of this story with such vivid settings. And sometimes it just feels good to reach for something difficult.
Summer, 2016: I work on the book religiously, then give a draft to cousin Allison and sister Katie. We hold a “book club” after they read “The Stone Inheritance” (its first title). (This is officially one of my favorite days of all time.) It is terrifying to hand over my work, even to people I love, because I fear rejection, failure, ridicule. But guess what? None of that happens. They make me feel great because I wrote a book — and that is an accomplishment, not a failure. I learn my first of many writing lessons: Be proud of yourself at any level.
In July I connect with a fellow YA writer, Rayne Adams, at AgentQueryConnect. She reads my manuscript and offers her critique, and instantly I love her. She is smart (she has a PhD in the classics – wowza!), insightful, kind, and best of all, she encourages me to keep writing. (Side note: To this very day, I don’t send a single piece of my writing out without her eyes on it first.)
I revise more and send it to more family members: my sisters, my mom, my nieces and nephews. Their enthusiasm for and support of my writing makes me want to try harder. And so I do, because now I have lots of people (including myself) that think something good is going on here.
My husband shows me how to record myself reading aloud my manuscript, so I can listen for errors. It’s actually the reading, not the listening, that helps me revise. Thanks, Chrissy.
I re-name my novel “Secrets in the Stone.” I re-name my characters, rearrange scenes, develop stronger character arcs, identify and mold the stakes, etc. But guess what never changes? The setting. My little heroine always lives at Boldt Castle and disappears to Watkins Glen gorge. (I love NY.)
Then I begin to query literary agents. (I begin too soon, but how do you know it’s too soon? You don’t. You just do what you think is best.)
STATS for 2016 querying:
Queries sent: 133
Full Requests: 4
Partial Requests: 3
No Response: 50
Rejections: 83
They’re not bad numbers, really, especially for the amount of suck embedded in these early versions. I even get a few requests in #PitMad contests. (STATS for those: 8 pitches, 15 “likes”.) But they all turn into rejections, of course. Some are helpful, some are form letters.
I even receive this response from an agent I queried in October (and I’ll never forget it): Wow, what an opening! I love the levels of intrigue and mystery built in, and Estella is a girl after my own heart. Please send the full, and if possible, I’d appreciate a one-month exclusive with it.
Writers, isn’t this an amazing response from an agent?! So I dutifully give the exclusive (which means I can’t query other agents for a month while this agent considers). I believe this is an outdated practice now, and I don’t suggest it, because guess what happens? The day the exclusive expires, I notice on Twitter that the agent has changed her profile — she is no longer working as an agent. When I contact her, wondering what the holy hell is going on with my exclusive, she simply states she’s passing on my book, since she’s no longer an agent.
I die a little. I die a lot. I decide to give up querying. That day, I listen to Adele’s “Chasing Pavement” song about 4 million times just to wallow in the shittiness.
Now what?
I’ll tell you what, bitches. The very next day–
I get right back up and keep going. Because God dammit, I WILL FIGHT FOR THIS DREAM.
It’s the beginning of 2017 and I’m revising. And dear Rayne is reading everything I write because she is the ultimate critique partner.
(Something I didn’t know at the time: the next agency I query is the agency that changes my writer life, and it’s an agency that offers me representation one year later. Put that it your scrapbook and adhere it.)
While revising, something crazy happens. An agent I query provides me with a critique. She asks me to revise the beginning, so I do. I send it back.
And she offers me representation.
I can’t believe it. So I scream, dance, tell the world, and re-read her email. She suggests an editor for me to hire.
Writers: This is not right. A proper agency does not ask you to pay for anything.
Long story short, I don’t accept representation. Because it’s not right for me or my book. I want better. And even though it hurts (because what if this is my only chance?), I decline.
But I keep going, goddammit. I re-write, and my darling Rayne reads every revision. I keep writing. Because I’m not in this to suck at it.
I read books on writing by Donald Maass, Gary Provost, Stephen King (again), and Sol Stein. (Please read STEIN ON WRITING if you haven’t already). I read as many YA books as I can get my hands on, and listen to YA audio books in the car. I begin listening to writing/agenting podcasts (and I recommend: Writer Writer Pants on Fire, Shipping & Handling, Writing Excuses, and 88 Cups of Tea).
I participate in more Twitter pitch contests, like #sonofapitch and #PitMad (STATS: 14 pitches, 10 “likes”). This gets me some requests from agents and editors.
I enter #revpit, get my hopes up, and don’t get chosen. I make writing friends through Author Mentor Match (#AMMparty) sharing aesthetics for my book, which makes me fall in love with my story even more. I keep revising.
I win a 10-page critique from Manufixers, who are helpful and encouraging. (And honestly, they still keep in touch with me because they’re so damn nice.) I revise more.
And then another wacky thing happens.
I receive an offer of publication from a small, local press. I speak with the editor who read my book twice and loved it. He is kind and thoughtful, and I consider his offer of publication because I want to succeed.
I am ready to accept the offer of publication, but I receive a rejection from an agent that strikes me: “If I may offer a word of unsolicited advice: I would not take the offer from the small press if I were you. If your aspirations are higher than that, I would keep on querying agents. For what it’s worth, I think you have talent, and I think this manuscript deserves better.”
So I listen to her because she’s an agent, and an agent is my goal. It hurts and I’m scared (is this my last chance?),but I decline the offer of publication from the small press.
I keep going.
Next, I do something incredibly intelligent (good job, Sarah!): I hire two freelance editors to read my book and provide me with their analysis. The first critique I receive is from Naomi Hughes, who reads my novel in two days and places her finger on every issue agents have but don’t elaborate on. Naomi is also kind, generous, and encouraging, and she is also a published author. I trust her.
The second critique I receive is from Lyla Lawless, who provides me with a seven-page edit letter addressing every issue she discovers and what she loves. I love her honesty and her ability to make me believe I can write. I am good at it, but I need more work. I embrace this wholly.
I submit my query to QueryKombat, which is a contest where your pitch is held up against others during several rounds of critiques, and I gain entrance! I last several rounds and make new writing friends, but ultimately I lose out, and it’s okay.
I participate in more Twitter pitch contests.
Somewhere in here, I make connections on Twitter with fellow writer Catherine Bakewell, who reads my manuscript and subsequent chapters, encourages me on Twitter, and follows up with any of my writing achievements or pitfalls. She is inexhaustible and always willing to brainstorm new ideas, and I trust her implicitly with my work.
I enter PitchWars. I participate in the blog hops, the aesthetics, the community on Twitter. I think this will help me be “seen” and perhaps it does. I don’t get chosen and I am devastated.
But I change my manuscript from third person to first person, and I re-acquainte myself with my protagonist. I feel like I know her better. I gain something, even though it’s not a place in PitchWars, and it’s more valuable than winning any contest.
Rayne and Catherine encourage me to write something new, get those creative juices flowing. I start thinking about another book.
And then I keep revising this one, because I receive feedback from agents and I want to take any advice I can get.
I am still querying, but it’s the end of the year. Here are the stats:
2017 Querying:
Queries sent: 170
Full Requests: 13
Partial Requests: 7
No Response: 58
Rejections: 112
*Offer of Rep (declined): 1
*Offer of Publication with a local press (declined): 1
It’s 2018.
I am determined to pull my shit together. I mean, I’m sick of hearing about this journey! (I’m sure you are, too.)
But don’t be a bitch – stick with me. I promise that 2018 is way more interesting.
January, 2018: After 9 months on the market, we sell our house and buy a farm. I now have my own writing room, complete with a giant shelf I like to call “the library.”
February, 2018: My wonderful cousins, Corey and Allison, at Face First Creative create a professional website for me as a writer. (Hint: you’re on it.)
March, 2018: I apply for an internship as a remote literary intern. The agent needs a voracious reader. (I raise both my hands.) And she picks me! (By the way, I applied to 10 internships before this one. I have no idea why she picked me and the others didn’t.) We talk on the phone and I love her immediately. She is warm and smart and trusts me already. For the next six months, I’ll read manuscripts from querying writers and manuscripts from any clients she obtains. KICKASS. (As an aside, she requested my manuscript just days before I applied to the internship.)
April, 2018: We move into the farm and life changes. Everything is sunshine and goat shit.
Somewhere in here, I find wonderful fellow writers who give their time and attention to my newest draft, and they deserve all my love and praise for helping me:
Wendy Blankenship
Amelia Hollingsworth
Martha Guarisco
Loie Dunn
Stefanie Ramirez
You are beautiful, loving, talented people. Thank you forever.
May, 2018: My boss-agent does something amazing. She asks two of her other interns to read my manuscript. They provide reader reports: one reader loves it, start to finish!, and the other only likes the first part. My awesome boss-agent (herein after “ABA”) does something else amazing. She asks another intern to read. This intern loves it, too, and suggests a few plot problems, but recommends representation. I dance on rainbows, I drink alcohol, I tell all the pigs and goats and rabbits and chickens this important and exciting development. I’ve got something here of value. ABA suggests I take these three reader reports and revise. I take her suggestion. But this revision is different. I have notes, I have goals. I have stamina. I am so close, I can taste it.
I take a day off of work to dedicate time to these revisions.
I will NOT fail.
I submit my revisions to ABA and to all the other agents waiting to read it.
And I hear crickets for what feels like a lifetime.
In reality, it’s only about a month.
July, 2018: I remember it clearly: I queried an agent who specifically asked for “gothic novels with twisty narratives and dark secrets, historical fiction…” Um, hello. That’s my book.
While we are out at the fireplace, I receive an email from this agent, which I read on my phone. She loves my book and tells me why. She also goes into detail about what she thinks could use some work. She offers me the chance to revise and resubmit my work.
I throw my phone on the ground because I can’t believe this isn’t an offer of rep. I worked so goddamn hard and it’s not an offer. I ignore the email for a day, because for the love of GOD, I am sick and tired of not reaching my goal.
I forward the email to my beloved critique partner, Rayne, and she asks me why in hell am I angry? This is an offer for an “R&R”, a Revise-and-Resubmit, and they are not handed out often in the agent world. I think about why I’m really angry, and it’s because I don’t want to revise this book again. I just did that! And I’ve been doing it for 2.5 years. F that.
Rayne tells me to think about it, and I do, because I listen to and trust everything she says.
And I realize that this is it — this is my opportunity to reach my goal.
I think of the damn cartoon I’ve had at my desk for years — this guy:
…What if I am being the guy on the bottom who stops digging when he’s fingernails from his goal?
DON’T BE THAT GUY, SARAH.
So I don’t.
And I didn’t know it, but this IS it. This is the choice — the choice that makes my dream come true.
Cue the tears I never shed, because I’ll cry over this until I die. I choose to CONQUER.
August – October, 2018: I start my revisions by first reading my manuscript again. After all, it’s been two months since I laid eyes on it, since I finished the last revision. And honestly, it takes a lot to convince myself to start reading. My husband buys me a Kindle and I begin to read my manuscript like a real book — and I am delighted to discover that while I can see what isn’t working, I still love the story and its characters. I take notes as I read, which feels endless, but shit — that’s what I’m here for.
Once I’m done reading my own book (and once I’m done with the 12,000 other responsibilities that seem to slam down on me in August), I start the rewriting. It looks like this:
I work full-time at a law firm, and I also own a farm with 13 animals, and I have 3 young kids, and I intern for an agent, and my husband desperately needs me to help him with the high school production he directs and produces… So this is hilarious. It’s hysterical to watch yourself flail around for three months.
BUT I DO IT ANYWAY BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT GETTING SHIT DONE LOOKS LIKE.
Somewhere near the beginning of September, I decide I need a deadline. Because seeing that yellow highlighter on my calendar absolutely thrills me, and, sadly, I’m not joking.
My 10th wedding anniversary is October 11th, and I decide that’s my deadline to complete this R&R.
With the agent’s suggestions in mind, I work for three months, often getting up at 5 am and going to bed super late (midnight is “super late” — I’m old) to write. And …… I love it. I love having a goal I’m excited about. I also love early mornings on the farm in my reading chair when no one’s awake yet.
I steal time whenever I can to work on revisions. Somewhere in September, my Satan laptop dies and I lose my mind over it. My husband finds me a spare for awhile. (My laptop is still Satan.)
My 8-year-old son reads a couple chapters of my manuscript aloud while we’re running errands, driving, at lunch, etc. He is an excellent reader. Thank you, dear Grady.
My 6-year-old daughter reads my first chapter. While I’m sure she doesn’t understand most of it, she asks that one important question at the end: “What happens next?” Thank you, m’lady Gretta.
My 3-year-old daughter gives me a kiss goodbye every weekday and says, “I hope you get an agent today, Mommy!” Thank you, Miss Perry.
I make the brilliant decision to hire a freelance editor who used to be an agent. I work out a schedule with Julia Weber to make sure she can read my manuscript and get notes back to me before October 11th, and still have enough time to digest her notes before more revisions are needed.
I make the not-so-brilliant decision to enter PitchWars – the mentorship writing program. My manuscript is requested by 3 of the 4 mentors I submit to, but the day before mentees are announced, I freak out because if I’m picked, I’m married to a schedule of 5 more months of revisions. And the thought makes me ill. With the wonderful encouragement of my critique partner, Catherine, I withdraw my manuscript.
Edits come back from my freelance editor. While Julia basically tells me I’m on track for the changes the agent suggested, she also gives me other points to consider, which I immediately dive into. I’m on track to submit my final revisions by my own deadline, which allows me to escape to Maine for our 10th anniversary.
It feels like pushing babies out of the nest, but if I read this manuscript one more time, I’m going to have an embolism…. I was a drama major, remember. So with a prayer to God (should He even be listening to my whining about this book anymore), I submit my revisions to the agent who offered the R&R, as well as to 9 other agents, just before we leave for Maine.
Side Note: Go to Maine in October.
October 22, 2018. 10:30 am: I get an email from the agent who offered me the R&R: Hi Sarah, I finished reading SECRETS IN THE STONE and would love to chat with you about it. Do you have any time today? Could even be evening for you—looks like you’re three hours ahead of me. Anyway, I’m around all day! If not, I’m sure we can find another time this week. Looking forward to it!
It’s funny. I always thought I’d jump in my car and drive straight to my husband’s work to tell him I had an offer from an agent, and we’d drop everything and run to the bar and get shitfaced for the afternoon. I also imagined I’d run outside and drop to my knees and thank God above I had an offer. I even imagined just straight-up going to the bar next door and buying myself a bottle of champagne and that’s that.
But instead, what do I do? I freak the fuuuuuuuuuuck out. I stumble out of my chair and into the office of my co-worker. I screech to her about the email and, bless her, she is excited, too. Then I tell another co-worker. THEN I call my husband. THEN I call my mom and dad. Then I text my sisters, email Rayne and Catherine, and wish my kids had phones. THEN I read the email from the agent again, and it’s still there. It’s still an agent wanting to talk to me.
My book. My book. My book.
Boldt Castle. Watkins Glen gorge.
My characters.
15-year-old Sarah’s idea.
I did it.
At one time, I wanted to be on Broadway. I didn’t get there.
At one time, I wanted to be an English teacher. It didn’t happen.
At one time, I wanted to be an author. I got there. It’s happening.
In his brilliant memoir, On Writing, Mr. King says to me and all writers, “You can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.”
It’s a pretty great feeling to know that you have become your own hero. Thanks, Mr. King.
STATS for 2018 querying:
Queries Sent: 132
Full Requests: 15
Partial Requests: 7
No Response: 37
Rejections: 92
Offers of Rep: 2!
At lunch that beautiful day, I sit (in the same bar where I met my husband) and have myself a drink. I tell the bartender my news and the bar cheers.
Then I receive another email from an agent who wants to speak with me about representation. And things start to get hilarious. Unusually teary-eyed Sarah pulls her shit together and takes a hard look around. God is basically saying, “I’ve been listening to you bitch for YEARS, so here — have 2 offers. Now go to church.”
I schedule the second phone call for the next day. And then I walk around like this for approximately 2 weeks:
I give all other agents 2 weeks to respond. Some partial requests turn into fulls, some fulls turn into rejections, and some never respond. Sarah from 2 years ago would have been sweating over it. Sarah from October 22nd doesn’t give a horse’s ass anymore.
Again, see below:
You know what’s weird? Being the ugly girl who can’t get a boyfriend. Then all of a suddenly you’re hot and you have to rejection someone. That’s what two offers feels like — only it’s way more emotional than that, and no one’s going to kiss me in the end.
It is incredibly hard for me to reject someone, unless they have bad breath or they like Elton John’s music. So I struggle.
But in the end, I choose an agent who was specifically looking for my book, and who loves my writing enough to want to follow it into more books.
I am now represented by
Karyn Fischer of BookStop Literary Agency!
Although I hadn’t necessarily nailed the R&R, I got close enough for Karyn to take it on. And now we’re about to embark on more revisions. But I have the guidance of my agent now.
What is the moral of this story? There are many morals:
- When you think your work is excellent, you’re wrong. Make it better.
- Fail for a really long time, because it feels outstanding when you finally succeed.
- Don’t give up without a fight, as Brendon Urie of Panic! at the Disco tells us. Or, don’t give up at all.
- Always have a extra bottle of champagne in the house. You may need to do some unexpected toasting.
But after toasting, put your barn boots on and get ready to shovel pig shit. There’s work to be done.
But it’s gonna be great.
-13 Comments-
Sarah,
This is so cool. Sounds like you worked your butt off to get where you’re at now. I’m very proud of you. I always wanted to write a book/books. I started several. I only actually finished one. Gave it to a friend who’s an editor. She marked all my mistakes, then gave me several suggestions. But somewhere in the middle of moving, & going back & forth to Alaska, etc. I lost the computer where I had all this stuff. “Someday” I might get back to it. I just don’t have as much ambition as you do. Keep up the good work, & I’m looking forward to reading your work. Please say hello to your parents for me & your sisters.
Chris Bargabos
I am genuinely over the moon for you, Sarah!
Congratulations, Sarah! You truly deserve this. But I think you were a little harsh on Sir Elton John, especially since your story aligns so nicely with “I’m Still Standing.”
“Don’t you know I’m still standing better than I ever did.
Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid.
I’m still standing after all this time…”
F that guy and his lyrics.
Amazing story! Thank you for sharing!
I recently retired from teaching 4th grade and kids do not like to revise. You have great advice/experience that many students would benefit from hearing. Congratulations on all your hard work! Good luck with your next step – publication. I can’t wait to read your book!
Sarah your story is a book in itself. In fact I can envisage the movie of your life. You are a fine example of tenacity and I love that. I too am a mum, I work, study full time and run my home with military precision ( Well sometimes)! Other times the whole thing goes tits up. Anyway I am still writing & still fighting. I will never give up and you have just given me another two dozens reasons why I must not. Delighted for you . Fantastic story. I loved it. Xxx
Thank you so much! Such kind words. Good luck to you!!
Thank you for sharing your journey! You are an inspiration!
Best overcoming post I’ve read. It’ll keep me going. Love your sassy attitude and grit!
Aww, thank you, Kelly! Glad it helps!
I love this story so much the next glass of wine I can find will be raised in your name. 🙂
Thanks for sharing your journey, I needed to read this today (and yesterday, and the day before, you get the drill).
Hah! Atta girl!
Thank you!