On not knowing how to say 'no' now

For this sunny Sunday, I offer you a brief tale of supplication and mild disrespect

22 October 2013

Wrote to literary agency to ask if they would like to represent me in my ongoing battle against the forces of darkness attempt to break into the world of mainstream publishing.

Not an arbitrary pick of an agency from a Google search. Oh no. Not one bit.

Targeted. Oh yes. My work has been favourably compared with the writing of someone they already represent. And that favourable comparison was by a proper literature professional.

Included samples of work, potted history of my writing career - its ups, its downs, its smiles, its frowns. Well, mainly the ups and the smiles.

Bigged up the link to their current client.

Website guarantees promises posits vaguely suggests responses in six weeks.


1 January 2014

Wrote again. Said this:

I sent a couple of extracts from my writing a little while ago. We're a little bit over the six weeks suggested by your website.
But I know these things take time and I'm not trying to rush you.
It's just a gentle enquiry to check that my work ended up on the right desk and to ask whether you'd like me to send anything else.
Best wishes and happy new year,

Maybe I should have waited till 2 January.


8 January 2014

Received first reply:

Thank you for your email. I apologise for the delay, there is always a little bit of a backlog over the Christmas period but you should expect to hear very soon.

13 September 2014

Okay, I took my eye off the ball on this one. I probably should have chased it sooner. But I think my sin of failing to chase up is lesser than their sin of [I can't decide - pick one for yourself and insert it here].

I wrote this:

I sent some samples of my writing last October. And, in January, I wrote to check they had found their way to the right person.
A long time has passed since then!
I'm not impatient - as long as you can reassure me that someone will consider my work at some point, that's fine. But I'd hate to think that it had been lost and never read.
If you need me to resend anything, please let me know. Otherwise, I hope you can give me at least a guess of when I might hear back from you.

(Okay, there's a lie in that email. Did you spot it? It was the bit where I wrote "I'm not impatient".)

I'd love them to write back and say that...

• they had prepared a letter offering representation and setting out terms!
• that the letter must have been lost in the post!
• here's one by email instead!

Really, I would.

But, if that's not the case, they really just need to say 'no' now.

If I don't get a reply by 22 October 2015 (our two year anniversary - gifts are cotton or paper depending on whether you follow the US or UK customs), I will name them.

It's not much of a threat, is it?


UPDATE - 3 October 2014

No reply yet.

Tomorrow will be three weeks since a polite request for them to even acknowledge that their response is very overdue.

Jacqueline Wilson without sour grapes

I haven't criticised J K Rowling and I'm not going to criticise Jacqueline Wilson either. They've both encouraged children to read and, not that it's any of my business, both seem to be thoroughly decent people.

Right - now that's out of the way, there's no excuse for anyone to misinterpret anything that follows as sour grapes, envy or any other sin (deadly or otherwise).

There's an exhibition right now at the V&A Museum of Childhood (in London) called "Daydreams and Diaries : The Story of Jacqueline Wilson".

I've been. I enjoyed it.

It only runs till 2 November 2014 so bear that in mind if you're reading this on 3 November 2014 or later.

An excellent and well-loved author providing material for a (free) exhibition about her life and work which will, I suspect, encourage more children to read. This is all good.

Sure - she'll sell a few more books through the gift shop. But why not? (See above comment about encouraging reading.)

But.

I'm not going to retract or recant anything I've already written. And I'm not (only) talking about myself here.

There are countless children's authors who could use that sort of exposure. And JW certainly doesn't need it.

Then again - why should a (free) museum run a (free) exhibition about the life and work of an unknown author? How many people will it welcome through its doors? How much merchandise will it sell? How many pots of tea?

JW isn't the main beneficiary here - it's the museum that will boost its visitor numbers (does that help with funding?) as well as sales of food, drink and knick-knacks.

Is there any answer to this one? Maybe not.

Sure, the museum or JW could pick a lesser-known author and exhibit them alongside. How crushing would that be for the chosen one - getting a career start via a ride on some generous (and effective) coat-tails?

Some would still take the humiliation. How much humiliation would a typical author (what's that?) take in order to actually get their work into the hands of more than a handful (ouch) of readers?

Maybe more than you'd think. I would. No, really.

Okay, from this point on I'm definitely only talking about me.

I never said I was writing the greatest literature. But I've always maintained that while better books are published to great acclaim, so are a distressingly large number that are hideously rubbish. And, as such, my books have as much right to prominence as any book with a mainstream publisher's logo on its spine.

I wouldn't say that my books are better or worse than JW's - I'll leave that to others.

The problem I have is marketing - a lack of disposable funds to spend on advertising, a lack of ability to gain traction in word-of-mouth.

But I'd have no problem with increasing sales through exposure via a leg-up from a celebrated author.

If I didn't think my books were good enough, I'd be uncomfortable doing so. But if I didn't think my books were good enough, I wouldn't still be writing about them. I'd be rewriting them.