Agent Triage

As previously mentioned, this time of year is kind of ridiculous. I get into the coffee, (Freudian slip! I meant office!) and I can feel the blood change in my veins: it's sort of a cross between AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHH, I'll never keep up! and OMG there is so much awesome. I am overloading on awesome. This is like eating an entire pint of Phish Food and not caring about the approaching stomachache awesome. (Yes, GK likes the little chocolate fishies.) 

Though I no longer get to have the yearly ritual of sharpening pencils (that smell! That delicious smell!), trying out new pens (always the ones that make a mark like liquid ink Pilots), deciding between wide or college-ruled (always college) and binders (I do miss the Lisa Frank--and even Trapper Keepers) and erasers and white-out and those donut-shaped stickers that reinforce binder holes--there's still something special. The leaves are rustling differently; I can tell they're starting to dry and think about changing colors. The NYU and Columbia kids have shown up, and the city is overflowing with OMG NYC is AMAZING and all my dreams are going to come true! Here! Right now! excitement. And Starbucks is releasing their pumpkin-flavored products. I can't wait for those cream cheese pumpkin cupcakes. 

But what's happening in the meantime? Well. I've been avoiding looking at my queries inbox because, quite frankly, I'm kind of terrified. My guess? 800-something. Here we go...and....

158. Wow! I guess everyone is on vacation too. 

Manuscripts waiting? GK's guess: 130. 

Actual manuscripts? 128. Ha! Off by two. But there are a few that were sent to my account, so add about 10 more. 

Contracts to edit a final time: 1

Clients' manuscripts to edit: 2. 

Angry author check-ins: 6

Polite author check-ins: 2. 

Publishing parties coming up this week: 2. One Brooklyn Book Mingle or something-or-other (same people), one KidLit. 

Former intern to meet for drinks (yesterday): 1. We had frozen cosmopolitans, which were like red slurpees + vodka...but in a good way. 

Interns to interview: 6

Out-of-town guests expected: 1

Housewarming to help throw for a friend who finally realized, after years in Manhattan, that Brooklyn is the way to go: 1

Cards to send: 3 (one birthday, one thank you, one "I miss you, you're in France"). I'm on a huge real mail kick, even if it's a dollar and takes a week (!) to get stuff to France. 

Times this week I've wished I didn't kill my color printer, so I could print cards with images of my choosing: 4-5

IKEA desk chairs assembled, thus invalidating my last excuse for not writing: 1. I had to use an oven mitt to avoid harming my hands while using their included wrench-like tool. Felt pretty buff...but now I have to, you know, write stuff. And find something for its four feet, so it doesn't ruin my floor.  

* * *

What does all of this mean? GK's been really, really busy. 

Now, all agents are busy. All the time. Some handle it better than others. Some (like Snarky) drink a lot. (Though I think he exaggerates about how much he drinks at work.) Some (though not so much any more) blog about how they have stacks of manuscripts everywhere--on the stove, under the cat. Some start blasting form-rejects in every which direction, just to clear their desks. Some go into hiding. And some put up auto-responses and start revising their website's guidelines for how and when to check in. 

But there's a general order of priorities for us, and by knowing our psychology, you can better gauge when to check in with us, and how. 

By the way, a few of you from this blog checked in with me this week, and I'm not talking about you. You are always lovely. I'm referring to the uninformed masses here.

First of all. Here's now not check in on a manuscript (yes, actual material from the past two weeks):

Dear GK,
At your early convenience, I would appreciate an update on where you are with [Manuscript]. If the book is to cause the change in today’s thinking about [subject matter] it must sell extensively.

I forwarded [Manuscript] to you for consideration in late July. At that time I discontinued all efforts to find an agent, as I felt it might be counterproductive to the Agency’s representation of it.

I am mailing a hard copy of it to you separately as it is too lengthy to email easily.
Sincerely,
[Author]


Then the author overnighted a copy of her book. $16 in postage! Way to make GK feel awful.

As I mentioned before, it's never a good idea to give an agent an unrequested exclusive--especially without telling them about it! And don't spend so darn much on postage. Priority mail, if you must mail something hard copy, is just fine.

As a follow-up, this did not work. This was received last week, and I haven't gotten back to her. Why?

Because whenever I think about it, I feel guilty. Guilt is the least productive emotion to evoke in an agent.

Now, all agents feel some amount of guilt all of the time. There's simply no way that we can keep up. There will always be at least a few authors we don't get back to in a timely fashion. So we develop a tolerance for guilt--we learn to live with it, and in some cases, repress it. Giving us more guilt  won't get us to hop-to; it'll make us try not to think about you and your manuscript. Will we feel instantly better when we get back to you? Yes. Does that mean that, like a kid who has a report due in two weeks, we'll get right on that? No.

* * *

Here's how we usually prioritize:

1. Our clients. Always first, unless they've done something like gone on Jerry Springer and ranted about their agents. Bad behavior makes us prioritize other clients first.  
2. Other agency stuff to do. There's always something, whether it's preparing for meetings or finding interns or planning parties for authors that belong to the agency but aren't, personally, ours. 
3. The authors we're most excited about, whose work we've read a little of and/or know will be good. We know we have to say Yes before another agent does. These works get placed immediately on Kindles and are read whenever possible.
4. The requested manuscripts. 
5. Requesting work from queries.
6. Rejecting manuscripts
7. Rejecting queries

In other words, saying Yes is of much higher priority than saying No. Saying yes is exciting and needs to be done quickly; saying No is uncomfortable and, sometimes, we're not sure--and the no is quite reluctant. However, this doesn't mean that a longer wait is necessarily a no--it sometimes just means that we haven't read your work yet and will get excited about it when we do. Sometimes queries don't do manuscripts justice--or are just good enough to get a request.

So, when your work comes in, it gets quickly sorted into one of three groups:

1. Totally amazing. Read right-effing-now. I mark these with a bright green Promising label. Thank you, Gmail. 
2. Not sure yet. Will have to read.
3. Reluctantly requested. If, for example, an author has an amazing platform but I don't like their query (but feel obligated to request it), the work goes here.

Then, after reading about fifty pages, they're sorted again:

1. OMFG. I'm finishing this right now. If I had a desk of manuscripts, I would, like in the movies, pick up everything else and shove it off. 
2. Mehhhh. Not sure. I'll have the interns read it to see what they think. Then, if they say no and I disagree and worry about losing it, I'll read the rest; if they say yes and I still don't feel excited about it, I'll know to say no. 
3. Next! Marked to reject later. Sometimes I read things the same day they came in--and make decisions that day, too. Or I'll be home, reading the manuscript at 11 pm--and won't, of course, email the author then. This leads to an unfortunate impression for the author, so I'll wait a few days.

Also, another dirty secret: if we're not sure about a manuscript, we'll sit on it. Think about it. See if it keeps popping up in our brains. If it does, it gets another look. If not--and if no one else gives it an offer (another reason to never grant exclusives!)--we edge toward No. 

There you have it--GK in the midst of manuscript triage. 

Hope this finds you well, happy, and pencil shaving-scented,

GK