The Story I'm Not Supposed to Tell (But Always Do)

by Rob Gregory Browne

My writer friends warn me that I should never talk about how I got my literary agent. 

Why? 

Because I didn't have to go through the hell they went through, and they assure me I'll be jumped if I tell the story. 

You see, I was lucky enough to -- as William Goldman put it in Adventures of the Screen Trade -- jump past all the shit.

Years ago, I won an international screenwriting competition sponsored by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences that opened up all the Hollywood doors and got me a screen agent.  The next thing I knew I had a deal at Showtime and life was good.

Fast forward as my career took a slow, steady nosedive and I wound up writing cartoons.  And I don't mean The Simpsons.

When that finally dried up (taking my desire to write along with it), I shuffled around for awhile, wondering what I was going to do.

My screen agent left agenting, became my manager for awhile, then finally moved on.  After a couple more years of banging my head against the wall with a new agent, I decided screw it and went out and got a nine to five job, figuring I was done with writing for good.

Oh, if only it were that easy.  As the writers in the crowd know, you're not done with writing until it's done with you and before I knew it, I started to get the bug again.  So I finally wrote the novel I'd always been threatening to write -- working sporadically over the next three or so years until it was done.

Once it was finished, I thought I had something pretty special, hoped I wasn't deluded, so I contact my former agent -- the first one who had quit agenting while I was still her client.

You see, this former agent -- whom I'll call Marion (mostly because that's her name) -- had a LOT of connections, and I figured if anyone could help me get representation for the book, it would be her.

So I sent her an email, asking if she'd be willing to read the book.  She answered immediately and said, "Of course."  I fired off the manuscript and a week later she called me and said, "Do you mind if I send this to a friend of mine in New York?"

Well, that friend happened to run Trident Media Group and a couple weeks later a hot young agent there -- whom I'll call Scott Miller (mostly because that's his name) -- called me and said he'd like to represent me for this book "and anything else you want to write."

About three months later we had a deal with St. Martin's Press.

You see why my friends warn me not to tell this story?

Please don't jump me.

Believe me, I'm not gloating when I tell it.  I'm a very lucky, lucky guy.  But if anyone thinks I didn't pay my dues, be assured that I spent many, many years getting kicked around in Hollywood, so I paid my fair share.

(And the great thing is, is that I've been able to return the favor, so to speak, by recommending a couple of writers to Scott)

So what's this got to do with anything?

The REASON I'm telling you all this is because that aforementioned agent -- Mr. Miller (is that really his name?) -- has graciously agreed to answer some questions for us, and give us some insight into the agenting process.

Before he can do that, however, I need a nice, fresh set of questions to ask him.  So I want to ask YOU what YOU'D like me to ask Scott.  I'll cull the best questions, talk to Scott and do a nice little write-up about him next time.

So imagine this:  You're an aspiring writer.  If you could sit across from one of the hottest agents in New York (meaning you-know-who), what would you ask?

In the meantime, I'd love to hear "how I got my agent" stories from the writers in the crowd.  Everyone's way in is different.

Until next time...

Are literary agents necessary?

This is the kind of question that can get a person into trouble, isn't it?

After months of going back and forth with my agent about my new manuscript, a little frustration comes naturally. After rewriting said manuscript completely at least once more, revising it again, and cutting out nearly 60 pages from the original work, I'd have to be brain-dead not to wonder if I was doing the right thing.

Why did I listen to many of my agent's suggestions?

Well . . . some of his points made incredible sense to me. On top of that, I respect his knowledge and sensibilities about the genre. And I’m hungry to be a better and better and better writer.

The members of my critique group thought I was insane to do all that to a manuscript that they thought would've sold anyway. They urged me to send out the book myself. I'm sure several of my cohorts on the ’Rati would've had the same advice.

Yet, I made the decision to listen. In the end, will all that mishmoshing result in a sale?
I'm waiting to see.
My agent has had tremendous success with other writers; we're both hoping he will with me.

In the meantime, my question remains: Are literary agents necessary?

When I was learning the business side of writing, everything I read and learned about the industry would've answered, "YES!"

It seemed like an immutable law, as much a given as the sun rising in the east and dogs liking liver treats.

Sure, there were tales about people who’d gotten published without an intermediary, but those were the exceptions, the stuff of myth.

Then came 9/ll, the anthrax scares, and the word on the street was that publishers wouldn’t open anything from anyone they didn’t know. In this new and paranoid environment, agents became even more essential.

However, quiet success stories continued to make me wonder about conventional wisdom. One that comes to mind right away is Pati Nagle who negotiated a three-book deal with Del Rey. She used an entertainment lawyer after the contract was offered.

Her answer to my question would be "NO!"

So which answer is right? Which would benefit the many writers -- the ones reading our blog for advice -- that are striving for publication right now?

IMHO, people need to really weigh the pros and cons of seeking literary representation in their careers. As Toni wrote yesterday, they need to look at what makes the most sense for them.

Below are two lists to begin the conversation. I note the pros and cons in no particular order -- and am sure I've missed many in both categories -- but hope that we can examine this question frankly for everyone's benefit.

Pros

1. Contacts: access to -- and attention from – editors who make the real decisions in publishing
2. Business advice
3. The abililty (to potentially) negotiate larger deals than a writer might do on his/her own
4. An advocate for the author to the publisher—editors and accounting
5. Legal and other specialized knowledge about the industry and trends therein
6. Up-to-date knowledge of the good, bad and the ugly about the publishers themselves
7. Current knowledge of the movements of editors across imprints and houses
8. Editorial advice (at least I like that in my agent)

Cons

1. It’s often more difficult to get an agent than it is to get a publisher
2. Time wasted researching and querying to find a good, reputable agent
3. Another block between the writer and the publisher/editor
4. Loss of income to a “middle man”
5. Potential pressure to write what you don’t want to write
6. Dishonesty/lack of transparency in money/editor querying
7. Lack of enthusiastic representation or, worse, misrepresentation
8. Personality or ethical conflicts

What do you think?

Are agents necessary?

Why?

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A program note:

Tim Hallinan will be my guest at Murderati next Monday, August 17. He’s written a provocative piece “Bleak is the New Black” that I think will spark a fascinating discussion. Please stop by and make him welcome.