After a year of searching for an agent, I’ve come to understand that for them, it is about the money not the art. And so if you don’t fit the right profile or have the right stuff, writers are just wasting their time. Witness “Martian,” and JK Rowling’s new book, which had a hell of a time finding a publisher because she didn’t use her name.
I read the story of one writer whose travails in finding an agent finally netted her one, and when she looked back on it, she said she wished that she had spent that time writing.
So, writers write. Agents sell their talent and take money off the top. The sides, and the bottoms.
Just also read a post by a screenwriter, now successful, who was turned down widely on his writings. Finally, someone optioned his movie and it proved a hit. Suddenly, all of those agents who had ignored him or put him down with their “expert analysis,” rang him back. So he read them their earlier comments and they filled the air with excuses.
I write poetry. And so I get it. Nobody reads poetry these days. And it flatly does not sell. I have written a novel about Native American spirits and am told nobody wants to read anything about Native Americans. I wrote a screenplay about a Pottawatomi Tribe in Michigan and baseball. I got some help from the rep of a relatively powerful actor, but learned that because of his age, he is not taking on much beyond acting. And Chris Eyre didn’t even read it when it was sent to him. He blew me and the rep off.
I’ve studied and learned how to write a synopsis, a query, an outline. Indeed spent hours on it when I should have written other, more fulfilling things.
The last time I heard this many Nos was when I sought dates for the high school prom.
What do I do? I take the advice of the writer who said: just write. And Kindle like crazy.