On Completing My First Novel

Over the years I've published ten non-fiction books with some of the largest traditional publishers (Richard D. Irwin, Prentice Hall, McGraw-Hill, etc.) For my very first textbook, with only one trade book under my belt in an unrelated field, I had offers of publication from two of the then-leading and most respected textbook publishers (Houghton Mifflin and Irwin). I still do not need or want an agent for my non-fiction. I can negotiate contracts just fine on my own, thank you very much.

But for fiction, especially novels, the world has moved on as Stephen King's gunslinger of The Dark Tower fame might say. In the United States today it is nearly impossible to get a novel looked at, let alone published, by a major publishing house without an agent. Publishers have cut back their staffs to the bone and now essentially use literary agents as their gatekeepers to pore through the tons of would-be novelist's queries for them, sending them only the best at the risk of damaging their reputations if they send too many duds.

This means that once a novel is written, edited and revised to the author's best ability, the real work of attempting to breathe life into her/his work begins. It is about as much fun as a long weekend with the Inquisition. Trust me. Authors have to diligently research agents from the thousands hundreds available, separate the wheat from the chaff, and avoid the poison ivy of mercenary fraudulent agencies that charge reading fees, office fees, copying, printing, courier fees and offer fee-based editorial and related services to their unsuspecting would-be-author clients. Then individualized query letters have to be developed--and each agency has its own quirks, predilections and rules on how these should look, their length and content. And, finally, the individual queries have to be forwarded based on the agent's preferences--email, various query delivery services, and so on. Moreover, some agents ONLY want a query letter tailored to their preferences, while others want that and the first five, 10, 25, or 50 pages of the manuscript, and so on.

Authors who want to get the brass ring--an actual competent, ethical agent who belongs to AAR (Association of Authors’ Representatives, Inc.) and who will earn her/his 15% commission on domestic sales (and 20-25% commission on foreign sales, derivative rights, etc.) without tacking on unreasonable unspecified fees and expenses on top of that--will need to spend many, many, MANY hours researching agents’ web pages, blogs and consulting books such as Guide to Literary Agents 2020 before sending out individualized queries in the hope that not all will result in rejections (or, worse, endless silence).

That is the process today, at least in the U.S. for authors of novels. It is even worse for poetry and short fiction collections. That is why I always self-publish these with no effort at even attempting to procure an agent or query the smaller presses (many of which are vanity presses masquerading as small presses) which still accept queries or manuscripts directly from authors. They have no choice as no agent will waste her/his valuable time sending manuscripts to small presses that publish only a handful of books a year with miniscule distribution channels, substandard royalty rates and no advances.

Don't misunderstand me. I knew all of this very well going in. It is one reason my first novel has lingered on the furthest reaches of my back burners for more than a decade futilely attempting to get the attention of my conscious and subconscious minds with occasional cries in the wilderness. And now that my long-gestating baby has finally exited the birth canal, has had most of the afterbirth washed away, and stares at me all pink and cute with her clear, wide eyes and mischievous smile, her dimpled, chubby little hand firmly wrapped around my pinkie, what else can I do? She's all mine, and I am in love with her, and I need to get her out into the world which may judge her harshly through cold, objective eyes. But I owe it to her to try to give her wings and help her learn to fly. Anything else would be . . . monstrous.