As a writer, I understand author angst and frustration. What I have never prescribed to is sour grapes and playing the blame game for any lack of success that I may have bumped up against. If I didn’t prevail in some endeavor, I didn’t sit back and point my finger at someone else. Rather, I looked at what I could have done differently to change the outcome.
So when Mary Walters writes about the evils of agents and thinks them harbingers of evil talent-killers who prevent the real art from skidding across our desks, I can only wonder at the sourness of her grapes. Literary agents are in the business to sell books. That’s how they pay the rent. And yes, they accept works they believe they can sell. In turn, we editors buy works from agents that we believe we can sell to the genre buyers and libraries. That’s how the free market works.
Mary is angry she’s being overlooked and has made agents her target. It would be far more productive to look in the mirror and see where she can change her course of direction. This is a tough business, and nowhere is it written that life is fair. No one owes Mary or any other author a chance. If the writing and story is marketable, then editors will take a look. Do authors get overlooked? Hell yes they do. But the pros don’t curl up into the fetal position and whine about their lot in life and blame agents. The persevere.
Cindrella stories happen all the time. I’ve talked a number of times about the wonderful Stacy Dittrich and our blog exchange. She was frustrated and I gave her plenty of space to articulate her angst. Several months later, a wonderful agent, Claire Gerus, saw her work on Publisher’s Marketplace, signed her, and got her a multi-book deal. Stacy is on her way. And she was a debut author. I and many of my publishing brethren have published thousands of debut authors, so it’s folly to suggest it doesn’t happen. And it’s even more folly to suggest that agents didn’t make those sales happen because they most certainly did.
Agents make editors’ lives worth living, and I talked about it at great length here as to why I love them.
Publishing may produce lots of tears and frustration, but it is a No Whine Zone.
If you want the inside scoop on what floats our boats, 
Forgive me for stating the obvious, but… why doesn’t she just go to a writer’s conference and pitch her book directly to an editor?
Cheers, Julie
Julie, there are a ton of things she could do – all of them far more valuable than whining. Conferences are invaluable for networking. I’ve lost track of how many manuscripts I’ve read from authors whom I met at conferences. Above anything, though, authors must be proactive and never give up.
I’d have sent her a form rejection just based on those three or four paragraphs of her synopsis or query she posted. They were boring. Also I hate cliches.
I did like the title, however. It’s unusual for a novel.
I’m going to blog about this next week, if I can (my children are on holiday, I have no time, and I’m chewing my arms off in frustration). But meanwhile, yes, yes and yes–this is awful, the blog post was ill-advised, and the writing isn’t to my taste either.
But what I find really, REALLY sad here is Mary’s determined cheerfulness about all the flak that she’s faced. She has rejoiced in the huge number of hits it has generated for her blog–I think she mentioned 6,000 in the last couple of days; and she greets almost every negative comment with a positive response, as if she’d planned the whole thing and for me, reading between lines that might not even be there, the whole thing is heartbreaking. I’m still shuddering about the whole thing. Eugh.
(Which isn’t to say that I disagree with the lovely Lynn here: whining is whining what ever follows it. But there’s responding to a little opposition, and floundering around completely out of your depth, and I suspect the latter is what we’re seeing here now.)
She has rejoiced in the huge number of hits it has generated for her blog
You know what, Jane? That is a great point. She’s concentrating on the wrong things. It’s like her ego is being fed by writing something outrageous, and she doesn’t realize how pitiful this is. Her huge blog hits are not going to result in a contract – and, ostensibly, that is her goal.
Chewing your arms off with the kiddies at home…I’m laughing myself silly. Ah, the memories. Good times, good times. I’ll drink a choccie martini for you.
I managed to sneak an hour off today, when Big Dave took the boys bowling, but yep, I’m counting the hours to the time the school gates open on Monday morning: and I’m two glasses of Cava ahead of you, Pricey.
But to return this thread back to its topic, I suspect that this whole debacle will make it even harder for her to find a publisher willing to take her on: she’s insulted agents, publishers AND writers in her post, and it would only be forgotten if her writing were sublime. And… well. Never mind.
Geesh! Lynn, Lynn, Lynn….LOL Okay, you made me blush and you win the weekly doughnut award. You are so completely awesome!
)
Bummer you won’t be in NYC, I’m thinking we would have had a lot of fun?
Have a fantastic week, lady!!
xoxo
Stacy
Stacy, I’d like to think we could have taken Times Square by storm. You, me, Fred, your darling, patient hubby. Yep, we’d have made headlines!