Sometimes a Little Stalking Is a Good Thing

A new post from my hilarious client Robin O'Bryant. This one is a great reminder to do your homework. Robin queried me because she knew who I represented and she knew my tastes. She figured, correctly as it turned out, that if I liked a certain kind of humor writer, I might also like her book. Robin is hugely talented and a dream to work with. If I tell her in the morning to go out and raise her profile, by 5:00 pm she's added a couple thousand twitter followers and a new blogging gig. She's my favorite kind of writer--hardworking, talented, and someone who goes out and makes things happen. Here's Robin...

I've been an avid reader and writer my entire life. As a child it was common for me to have dark circles under my eyes from staying up into the wee hours to read. I've journaled since I could write a complete sentence and throughout my life I have been told repeatedly, “You should write a book.”

I wanted to, I really did. I wanted to be a writer but I had no idea what to write about. I was good at expressing myself in words but I wasn't creating new worlds or going all J.K. Rowling in my free time. Reading and writing were private passions until my third child was born. Three daughters in four years, it's all a blur. Do the math, people. That's a lot of crazy.

I was writing about my kids extensively, because that's what I do. I am compelled to write about my life. But because my husband and I lived hundreds of miles from our families, I was also sending out mass emails on a daily and weekly basis to update our families on our shenanigans. And I heard it again and again, “You should write a book.” (Please note: this doesn't always mean you should and I realized that this was my mom and she might be a little biased.) I thought I might have an audience when my family members started forwarding my emails to everyone in their contact lists and I began receiving feedback from people I didn't know. I started a blog and somehow convinced the editor of our local paper to let me write a weekly family humor column.

I realized I had plenty of material and a subject matter that I loved. I started writing furiously. I wrote while I fed my baby. I wrote while my two-year-old and four-year-old napped. I bugged the crap out of all my book whore friends-- because avid readers make great betas. I asked for feedback from anyone who was willing to give it. I joined my local Writer's Association and started going to group meetings to get feedback from people who weren't my mother.
I ordered books about writing query letters. I quietly stalked the Query Shark and any other resource I could find online and started writing drafts of my letter. I purchased 'The Writers Market' and started looking for agents who represented non-fiction humor and women's interest books. And I sent out my first few queries.

I queried widely and was rejected widely. Every time an agent was kind enough to tell me why they said no I did what I could to change that part of my letter. I read as much as I could in my genre and poured over the acknowledgments to see if the author had thanked her agent and I made a magical discovery. My three favorite humorists all thanked their agent-- Jenny Bent. And when I say “favorite” writers, I mean like The-Beatles-Favorite. Like if I saw them in person, I would hyperventilate and pass out.

I began stalking Jenny. Not scary-stalking, let's all remember that I had three kids under four years old. I didn't have time to wipe after I peed, much less be threatening and what not. But I began reading interviews with Jenny online, learning what she was looking for and what she liked to read. I read her client's blogs and one of them even sent me a copy of her query letter.
By the time I wrote my query to Jenny, I felt like I knew her. The letter I wrote to her was more personal and more reflective of my writing style than any of the others. But still, before I pressed, 'Send,' I almost chickened out. Jenny Bent was totally out of my league. As other agents had pointed out my one little local newspaper column wasn't a big enough platform. This was my first book, and many authors never get their first book published.

Another agent had a requested a partial and a book proposal and I was waiting to hear back from her. My last thought before I sent the email was, “It's not going to hurt anything to send it. She'll probably never read it anyway.”

I received an email within the week from one of Jenny's readers saying Jenny wanted to read the full manuscript and I almost blacked out. I sent the manuscript and tried not to think about the fact that the agent who represented three of the funniest women on the planet had my manuscript and was actually reading it.

I received an email from Jenny's assistant only a couple of weeks later saying (this is burned into my brain forevermore) “Jenny is on a plane, doubled over in laughter reading your manuscript. She wants to offer you representation and would like to set up a time to talk to you.”

I screamed so loudly I woke up all three of my sleeping children. (Waking children during nap-time is a mortal sin and I've almost popped a cap in the UPS man for ringing my doorbell before. Even though he was bringing me magical under-eye makeup from Sephora.) I ran screaming through my yard to my neighbor's house and almost gave her heart attack.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Authors don't get signed from the slush pile. Not to high caliber agents. But I did. Jenny Bent is careful with her queries, people. She doesn't want to miss anything.

For the last two years, Jenny has been an amazing mentor and editor. Her first revisions, though VERY kind and 100% accurate, hurt. We cut over half of the material and did a major rewrite. But she saw my strengths and my potential. Her advice helped me find my voice. She encouraged me to focus on my strengths and to throw away what was subpar. She helped me shape my manuscript into a book that we both love.

My platform has grown. I have self-syndicated my column in three states. I have found outlets online and in print for my writing. And while I've been “waiting for something to happen” I wrote another book. I have learned that publishing is a slooooooow business and I haven't published anything, yet. But I know I will. Because I believe in myself, and so does Jenny Freakin' Bent.

Read the best of Robin's Chicks, Robin's blog about about surviving motherhood with three daughters and a sense of humor. Learn helpful tips such as: how to breastfeed behind your back*, how to talk to your daughters about male genitalia, and how to write a pet obituary.

*Only applies to lactating women with a DD cup or larger.

From spreadsheet to book deal--#2 in the series of How I Found My Agent

This post is from my lovely and incredibly talented client Lori Roy, whose first novel BENT ROAD published in April. I love stories like this one because once again it disproves the notion of "overnight" success--Lori had been writing for 12 years before we decided to work together to sell her book. I didn't know about a lot of the things that were happening behind the scenes until I read this: I love how Lori approached the process with such determination and organization!

And yes, I did tell Lori her query letter wasn't very good! In retrospect, I probably could have been a little more tactful, but it's further proof that writing a great book and writing a good query letter are two completely different skill sets. Asking for the first ten pages as part of my query guidelines is my way of looking beyond a query letter that might not adequately represent the genius of the book that is being pitched.

Now, over to Lori:

April 16, 2009 5:06 a.m.

From: Lori Roy

To: Jenny Bent

Query – Bent Road

I attack the querying process with a spreadsheet. It’s seven columns wide, several rows long and must be printed on legal paper. The names of literary agents run down the side of the spreadsheet and the columns are labeled name, address, genre, email, snail mail, submission guidelines, miscellaneous. I approach my queries as I approached the audit workpapers I prepared when I was a tax accountant. I label my spreadsheets, tick and tie addresses I have confirmed, highlight my research with a yellow marker. I wore blue suits and pantyhose in my accountant days. Now I wear Levis with holes in the knees, but I can still format a nice spreadsheet.

After all my research and all my organization—each printout three-hole punched and stored in a two inch binder—it is a connection who helps me land an agent. I met her four years earlier at a writers’ conference. She lives in Sweden. We’ll call her the Swede. She emails with news that Jenny Bent has recently started her own agency and is accepting submissions. The Swede has followed Jenny’s career for years. You should give her a try, the Swede says. I scan my spreadsheet, and there she is. Jenny Bent. I check her submission guidelines, attach the first ten pages of BENT ROAD, my query letter and press send. Jenny is the ninth agent I query.

April 19^th, 2009 8:52 p.m.

From: Jenny Bent

To: Lori Roy

Could you please send the entire manuscript for BENT ROAD?

I read all the blogs, so I know I have a few currents to navigate. Two partials of BENT ROAD are currently with other agents. I believe in common courtesy, and while my insecurities make it difficult for me to believe the other agents will care, I email them that I have had a request for my full manuscript. They respond promptly with their appreciation. My first instinct upon receiving this request from Jenny is to press reply, attach and send, but I resist. Instead, I stay up most of the next two nights to read and re-read my manuscript. The second time through, I read it out loud. I’m hoarse by the time I email it to Jenny on April 21, 2009.

May 4, 2009 9:26 p.m.

From: Jenny Bent

To: Lori Roy

I loved reading this book. Could we set up a time to talk tomorrow? Do let me know.

I’m still wearing my PJs when I read this email at 6:00 a.m. on the morning of May 5^th. I run upstairs to tell Husband who is sipping his first cup of coffee. She wants to talk tomorrow, I say to Husband, and then turn and run back to my computer. The email was sent the night before, which means she wants to talk today.

I email the Swede to share the news. I email another friend for advice on what to ask an agent. Again, I’ve read all the blogs. I know what a writer is supposed to ask, but because I’ve highlighted my research, labeled my workpapers, three-hole punched my printouts, I already know the answers to those standard questions. The smartest thing I did when setting out to find an agent—I only queried the agents I would be privileged to work with.

We trade a few emails throughout the day, Jenny and I. I send my phone number and times when I’m available, which is any time because it would take a crowbar and a book of matches to pry me away from the phone. She emails that she is having a crazy day and won’t be able to call until tonight. In the mean time…

May 5, 2009 11:29 a.m.

From: Jenny Bent

To: Lori Roy

…So as not to keep you in suspense, I am calling to offer representation.

I’ve been writing for almost twelve years by the time I open this email. I’ve collected countless rejection letters from literary journals—really they were rejection slips of paper. I’ve attended several writers’ conferences, lectures and readings. I’ve read books on writing, studied with gifted teachers, met great friends. I’ve struggled to understand the four fallacies, humbled myself to the concept of plot and beaten the adverbs out of my vocabulary. I’ve spent hours sitting at a desk, ashamed that I’m wasting my time. I’ve written badly, very badly. I’ve written two other novels that hide on the lowest shelves in my office. I’ve spent a year and a half writing BENT ROAD. I can’t say how many drafts I’ve been through. I lost track after the sixth. I’ve read it out loud so many times, looking for and listening for the clunkers, that the manuscript induces nausea. And there it is in a single line in a single email. Representation.

The phone rings in the early evening. Husband answers it. He calls the person on the other end Ms. Bent and hands me the phone. To avoid the chaos in my house, I take the call on the deck. In front of me lies my list of questions. I ask none of them, because when the moment arises, they all seem ridiculous. I already know who Jenny represents. I know how long she’s been an agent, where she’s worked, and because of blogs and online interviews, I have a good idea of her personality and work ethic. I know she will represent me and my book with professionalism, enthusiasm and perseverance. When the phone call ends, I am represented by Jenny Bent.

June 11, 2009 12:29 p.m.

From: Jenny Bent

To: Lori Roy

CALL ME

I start this day blow drying my hair while crying hysterically. Husband asks me what’s wrong. It’s auction day for BENT ROAD, and I fear the auctioning block will turn into a chopping block. I’m afraid no one will show up for the auction and that BENT ROAD will be unsold at day’s end. I fear I’ll have to show the determination and belief that so many other authors have had to muster. I fear I won’t have it. “It’ll be a good day,” Husband says.

I’m at work—a part-time tax gig—when I receive this email from Jenny. CALL ME. I make up an excuse to leave the office for a few minutes. I write fiction. It isn’t hard to come up with something. I know it’s best that I not make the call while driving. Instead, I pull into the parking lot at Haslam’s Book Store. (Almost two years later, I will hold my first book signing at this store.) Jenny picks up on the other end immediately. We have an offer, she says. The auction continues throughout the day. I go back to the office. Don’t get much done. I pick up Daughter from tennis practice. She’s hungry, so we stop at the drive-through at Checkers. Husband brings homes roses. The family takes me to dinner. By Monday morning, the deal is done. Bent Road by Lori Roy is sold by Jenny Bent to Dutton Senior Editor Denise Roy. (No relation.)

June 16, 2009 3:59 p.m.

From: Denise Roy (Senior Editor – Dutton/ Penguin)

To: Lori Roy

CONTACT

Denise emails me her contact information, and we get acquainted over the phone. We laugh about the coincidence that has brought our three names together under this book deal. We discuss revisions. She sends me notes. A writer friend offers me advice. You don’t have to make all the changes your editor suggests, he says. But she’s always right, I say. Denise and I work our way through two rounds of revisions. I don’t appreciate how wildly insecure I am until I experience the revision process. Denise is aware long before me. She is kind and tempered with her suggestions. She is always right.

Three months after the auction, the contract is final. Jenny handles the negotiations, informing me along the way. She looks out for my best interest, while I would give away the deed to my house. I cower in the corner, watch through my tightly knit fingers. I exhale when the ink is dry.

October 27, 2009 10:21 a.m.

From: Jenny Bent

To: Lori Roy

MS Accepted ….Hooray

The revisions are done and the manuscript is accepted just in time for my visit to New York. I am reading a Harlan Coben novel when I begin my descent into LaGuardia. I see the Statue of Liberty, look down on the Coben novel—also published by Dutton—and feel a bit queasy. It occurs to me that people will read my book, too.

I meet Jenny for lunch—a cute little restaurant in Soho. We talk kids, next book ideas and about my query letter that she tells me wasn’t very good. She soothes my ego by reminding me that I’ll never have to write one again. Jenny leaves me in the lobby at 375 Hudson Street—Dutton’s corporate offices. Denise and I find another Soho restaurant and we toast BENT ROAD with a cabernet.

At year’s end, the copyedited manuscript is delivered. Copyeditor catches my dangling modifiers and suggests I use sit instead of set. In April 2010, I secure my domain name. I’m a website now. The proofreader has a few questions for me in May, and on May 26, my baby gets a face when Monica Benalcazar distills 368 pages into a beautiful, haunting, perfect image.

October 27, 2010 3:29 p.m.

From: Ava Kavyani (Publicist—Dutton/Penguin)

To: Lori Roy

Hello from Publicity

I’m blogging every week, have a facebook page and dabble in Twitter. I’m not as good at this as others, so I watch and learn and try to spend my time wisely. Many things are happening on behalf of BENT ROAD within the halls of the Dutton/Penguin offices. I only work with a handful of people and ask them to thank the folks I won’t ever meet through an email or phone call.

It’s a rainy Sunday morning in December when I find my first review. I’m googling myself and there it is. Kirkus—a starred review. I cause a thud when I jump out of bed. Husband comes running. I check again. And again. Yes, a starred review. Other reviews will follow—The Library Journal, Publisher’s Weekly, NPR, AP, People Magazine, St. Pete Times, The Sun Sentinel. I am working the concession stand at Son’s baseball game when I pick up another email from Ava. BENT ROAD launches in two weeks. Marilyn Stasio will be reviewing it for the New York Times, Ava writes. Why are you crying, Daughter asks as she makes change for the Gatorade she just sold. “It’s Marilyn Stasio,” I say. “It’s the New York Times.”

March 31, 2011

It’s publication day for BENT ROAD. I start my day being interviewed by the Tampa Tribune. Husband sends flowers. They’re waiting for me at the coffee shop where I meet the journalist. I spend the rest of the day at home. We’re under a severe weather warning. The windows are leaking. I stuff towels in the sills.

My first signing is well attended. We sell all but a few copies. There are more signings. I arrive thirty minutes early at each one. At my first reading, a photographer perches on the floor about three feet in front of me, and as I read, his camera goes click, click, click. Shoulders back, I tell myself. Chin high. Breathe. Don’t read too quickly. Click, click, click.

There will be more book events in the future. I have a few book festivals planned, a few more in the works. I’ll continue to blog and tweet and facebook. I’ll meet with my writing group and skype with my writing friends. I’ll continue to read great writers and study with great teachers. And now that I find myself with a book sitting on the shelves of many book stores, I am quite certain of the most important thing a writer can do after selling a book. Write the next book and when that is done, write the next.

Lori's website is www.loriroy.com. Follow her on twitter: @Loriroyauthor.

Ta-Dah!!! A New Series of Posts on Bent on Books

I'm pleased to announce a new series of posts on BENT ON BOOKS: I've asked my clients to weigh in on the topic of "How I Sold My First Book" or "How I Found My Agent." We're kicking it off with a post by the truly lovely and talented Ellyn Bache, a relatively new client of mine who had published a number of books by the time she knocked on my door (and boy, was I happy to answer it!).

Ellyn's book The Art of Saying Goodbye will publish at the beginning of June. It's a beautiful book about a group of women in a wealthy suburban neighborhood and what happens when they're confronted with tragedy. For me it passed that magical litmus test: made me laugh, made me cry. I signed Ellyn up right away and I am lucky to have her. The book has already received some wonderful pre-pub reviews:

From Booklist: "Sweet, profound, sweeping in its themes yet detailed in its nuances, Bache’s latest explores the layers of friendship involved in facing serious illness and buried secrets."

And PW: "A moving, gratifying, and inspiring reminder to live life to its fullest and demonstrate love in every possible way to friends and family."

I'll stop talking now, but I do want to say this about Ellyn's post. What I think it shows is that there are plenty of really good agents out there, but for some of you the challenge is not finding a "good" agent--it's finding the right agent for you. If you're not published, or un-agented, this may seem like a very academic exercise, but after twenty years in the biz I can pretty much guarantee you that this will become an issue at some point in almost every writer's career.

And now, over to Ellyn:

HOW I GOT (THE RIGHT) AGENT. AT LAST. IN SPITE OF EVERYTHING.

This story has a happy ending, but it’s a bit of a cautionary tale, too.

Part of the reason I write is because it scares me silly to deal face-to-face with bosses, editors, agents, anyone in power.

Even with trusted friends, I’m not a great conversationalist. I rarely win an argument. I can’t tell a joke. When someone makes me uncomfortable, I babble. Writing feels safer because it lets me edit what I want to say.

In the early days, I was comforted by the fact that manuscripts were submitted and returned by mail. No one could see if I burst into tears after a humiliating rejection. There was a (to me) critical and essential privacy in this. I wasn’t being judged by the way I looked or how well I could think on my feet. I was being judged solely on the writing.

My first agent came to me through the recommendation of one of his clients (still the best way to get an agent, in my opinion). He sold my first novel, Safe Passage, and helped broker the deal that made it into a movie starring Susan Sarandon. We talked on the phone so many times before we met that I didn’t feel intimidated. If I babbled during our first face-to-face, he pretended not to notice. We stayed in touch for years.

But then he was gone, and it was the era of writers’ conferences – hundreds of them, always with agents and editors to pitch to, as well as writers like me who gave the craft seminars. The agents tended to stick together (or so it seemed to me), more anxious to talk to each other than to not-yet-published wannabes or not-yet-famous staff, except during scheduled appointments..

Was I going to sit across the table from one of them and give my two-minute pitch?

Not a chance.

But one day at lunch I sat next to a man so pleasant and unthreatening that I didn’t realize he was an agent until halfway through the meal. Disarmed, I shed my anxieties and phobias long enough to tell him about my work. A few weeks later, I became his client.

He was a nice man, but as it turned out, not a very good agent for me.

I write complex women’s fiction. He sold mostly romances. If I’d done a little research, I would have known that. Instead of following my own advice to judge by the work and not the personality, I’d formed a binding relationship with someone I trusted simply because he was easy to talk to.

From the beginning, we weren’t a good match. The sales he made for me weren’t what I was looking for. I stuck it out longer than I should have because it was easier than a personal confrontation. Finally, I put my current project in a drawer and said I had nothing to show him.

The only one who got hurt by this was me.

So there I was, agent-less, with a finished book sitting in a drawer, when I began hearing about Jenny Bent. She’d made good sales for several writers I knew, including my friend Donna, who invited her to be on a panel about writing effective first pages. On the program, Jenny was articulate and intelligent, and clearly knew exactly what she wanted. Donna urged me to introduce myself to her. But when she finished speaking, she was surrounded. No wonder. She was capable, tough, hugely in demand, exactly the kind of agent I wanted. I fled.

Donna had seen my cloistered novel and pronounced it ready for market. “You should query Jenny,” she insisted. “You don’t have to face her in person. What are you afraid of? All you have to do is send an email.”

Bullied into it, I did.

Jenny was every bit as tough-minded as I’d imagined – but tough in the gentlest way. She made lots of suggestions. They always struck me as thoughtful, helpful, right. She spent hours thinking up just the right title for the novel. She seemed, truly, to care about it. Months later, after I’d made the changes we agreed on, she sold THE ART OF SAYING GOODBYE to HarperCollins in less than a week.

I finally met Jenny in person on a trip to New York for the terrifying task of being introduced to my editor. It was a warm, rainy day. My hair had frizzed into its distinctly un-suave natural state, a kinky bubble around my head. Jenny arrived looking sleek in a khaki raincoat, her short blonde hair elegantly cut, elegantly tidy. She seemed not to notice my disarray. As we walked together into the massive HarperCollins building, I realized how much having the right agent at my side was taking the pressure off.

Even so, I was nervous enough to fear I’d jabber aimlessly when we got upstairs – and as memory serves, I did.

They published my book anyway.

Imagine that.

Ellyn's website is: http://ellynbache.com/

We have not yet made any decision regarding the internships.

We have not yet filled either internship position. We are still accepting applications.