Agent Stalking and Other Writerly Pursuits

My pal Ally Carter gives a workshop called “Asking the Wrong Questions.” It’s aimed at aspiring writers of YA, and was born when Ally grew frustrated by the way these writers would squander opportunities to talk to an agent or published writer with silly questions like “can I swear in the books?” or “how long must they be?” and other questions that could easily be answered by, I don’t know, picking up a few YA novels (Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist drops the F-bomb every few pages) or even just heading to the bookstore and scanning the shelves to see how fat some of these books are (hello, The Sweet Far Thing!)

I’ve been up mighty early the past nine weeks — early enough to catch Jessica Faust’s #askagent hashtag on Twitter, which she tends to run about six a.m. While most of the questions she gets during these sessions are well-thought out and useful for not only the writers who ask them, but for everyone, many have me wondering if the questioners spent much time reading books before they embarked on their career as an author. After several days of observation, I’ve been able to classify the head scratchers into three distinct categories.

1. The Stealth Query Question

“Do you think there’s a market for a book about a lonely werewolf from Poughkeepsie who falls in love with a hot Manhattan vampire during a summer’s sojourn on Fire Island?”

The writer doesn’t want an answer to this question. What the writer wants is for the agent to go, “OMG, send that book to me!” It’s the specificity of the question that gives it away. They aren’t saying, “is there a market for paranormal romance?” (there is, and the writer knows better than to ask such a dumb question).

What leads to this behavior? Is it query fear? Do they need to be absolutely sure they’ve got a chance before they submit “for real?” Do they want the bragging rights of being able to say, “Oh, I got a request from a tweet, I didn’t even have to query?” Unclear. But if you’re pitching your book — pitch your book.

2. The “I’ve Never Read a Book Before” Question

“Is it okay if I set my book in a real town?” “Is it okay if my characters mention the name of a movie in my book?” And so on.

Really? is it possible that this writer has never in their life run across one of the tens of thousands of novels set in real places, starring real people, or filled with references to real films, plays, books, and works of art? At the very least, they’ve heard of The Da Vinci Code, right?

The mind boggles at this question. I was trying to figure out where it came from and I wonder if books like my Secret Society Girl, which “changed the names” of real places, are somehow to blame. If people see that and think they have to change the names of their real places. But then I think about The DaVinci Code. Changing the names or not is an artistic choice. For SSG, changing the names meant I had more freedom to do what I wanted in the world — This isn’t Yale, this isn’t Skull & Bones. This is Eli, and Rose & Grave, and so I can make up whatever timeline I want. With Rampant, however, it was the exact opposite. Setting the book in the real Rome and bringing in all these real historical figures and facts allowed me to make such a fantastical and off-the-wall premise of killer unicorns more grounded and acceptable.

But I digress. The point is, these writers must see books in which real things are mentioned. So where is this coming from?

And, as a corollary, why do they think it matters? Trust me, there is no editor out there who says, “Man, I’d love to buy this book but the main character mentions on page 54 that she loves the movie Casablanca. REJECT.” If the editor has a problem with a passing mention of a real person, place, or thing, they’ll make you change it. (In the manuscript of Secret Society Girl, I had to change the name of one character, who was the child of a famous politician, because the last name I’d given him was coincidentally the last name of a real-life politician, and we didn’t want readers to assume I was talking about him and his (fictional) son. These things are not dealbreakers.)

3. The Remember My Name Question

It’s entirely possible that the other question types are really just this one in disguise. And I have to admit, I understand this last one, and I was probably guilty of it myself as an aspiring writer.

Basically, the questioner doesn’t have anything to ask — not really. So they devise an often inane question just so they can score some face time (Tweet time?) with an agent. Maybe so the agent will remember them when they query. Maybe so they can say “we spoke on twitter” when they query. Maybe because they’ve bought into the idea that they need a “connection” to do business with the person.

“What do agents look for in a pitch session?” “How many words should a query letter be?” “How do you like us to sign our query letters?” “Do you want us to use Times New Roman?” If the question is one that has been answered a bazillion times or is obvious to anyone who has spent half an hour researching manuscript submissions, it’s usually a “remember my name” in disguise.

And I get it. I truly do. In fact, I think it might even have been Jessica who got my inane attempts at doing the same thing at a chat back in 2003. (I believe the question was, “Is it still called chick lit if it’s set in suburbia, rather than a big city?”) But here’s the thing, that I now understand with the wisdom of 20/20 hindsight and five years sitting on the agented, contracted side of the fence:

Face time isn’t going to help you.

Especially not when you are talking about a chat or a tweet or a blog comment. Because when you query this agent and say, “We spoke on Twitter. I’m coolgirl7563,” they are just going to think to themselves, “Great. Whatever. What’s your story about?”

Don’t get me wrong — face time is grand. It’s not going to make up for anything, but it might get you read faster. I knew a lot of agents and editors from conferences who happily rejected my books — heck, I’ve worked with editors who have happily rejected my books (well, I’d like to think they’ve “regretfully declined,” but still). The book is the thing — not the face time. If you do have the opportunity to attend a writer’s conference and socialize with some industry types, I am a big believer in it. It’s not just the networking, but the energy and knowledge you get from conferences cannot be beat.

As I’ve said before, I’d met my agent a couple of times before we started to work together. When we finally found a book we could go forward with, we were both thrilled, as we’d gotten the impression during our face time we’d be a good fit someday. But she wasn’t going to take me on until I found that book. We might have some laughs over plastic cups of wine at conference cocktail parties, but she had no problem sending me rejection letters for books she didn’t think were ready for representation.

Now, that being said, I will also point out that I got offers from agents who didn’t know me from Adam. All they had of mine was a query letter and a proposal. So it’s the book that matters. (If anything, in that situation the face time helped the AGENT be the one chosen for the job — so who does networking really help? The salesman.)

Anyway, we’re still talking about long, face-to-face conversations in a social setting, not the occasional tweet/blog comment. I definitely think there’s a benefit to these chats and twitter series — there is so much info imparted, and if you have legitimate questions, they are a great forum in which to ask them. But if you are using them merely to stalk wave at your favorite agents and editors, then you are probably better served turning off your internet and getting back to your book.

I know. Easier said than done. I’m right there with you. Guilty as charged.

On the other hand, there’s always the possibility they DO remember coolgirl7563, and what they remembered was that she asked a really dumb question. 😉