For those not in the know, the deal with an agent is that you give them a percentage of your earnings, and they make sure you earn as much as you can. Amongst other things it’s their job to find you a publisher, and to sell foreign, TV and film rights.
This is who I want: Someone who loves my work, but who also gives me constructive criticism. Someone who can go out there and fight for my books. Someone who can be honest with me. Someone I get on with. Someone I can have a long term literary-agent-relationship with. Someone who doesn’t lose faith in my work when the going gets tough.
It gets a little more complicated, because for every good agent there will be a hundred (a thousand?) writers like me. Why should the agent invest their time and energy into this writer and not this one? Will it sell, will it sell, will it sell?
I have a list of names from my writer friends, and I’ll start working through them as soon as I’ve written my synopsis. Which I really should have made a start on before writing this blog…
My new home is a wonderful place to be a writer. I can see the resident mistle thrush without even lifting my head, and this morning we had another visit from the deer who has etched grooves into the hedge as she breakfasts. One cat per windowsill, and my toasted bagel eaten. Time for a cup of earl grey.