How I Got My Agent

 

I used to love reading “How I Got My Agent” stories.

It was always my goal to write one. But those of you who know me might not be surprised to learn that once I was finally there, once I received that first offer of representation—I suddenly felt like I had no business writing one.

But then I thought back to how much I used to love reading them, how I wished every author I followed would write them. And so, what the heck. Let’s do this. For past me, for present you, if that’s your thing. If it makes you happy to read about the journey others take. If it gives you hope the way it did me, once upon a time.

THE JOURNEY

Okay, actually, I won’t talk about the journey. Everybody always skims through that part, anyway, right? I mean, don’t you want to know how baby me used to tap out little stories on their dad’s computer way back in the early 90s? No?

Well, anyway. If you really wanna know how I first got started, at least in terms of querying, go ahead and check out my previous post. It’s all about beginning the journey, persevering, and learning to celebrate each success. That post will take you from 2018 up to about Summer 2023—the life cycle of my very first querying book. My YA fantasy, my precious baby boy who failed to get me an agent, but who is still nearest and dearest to my heart, and who will one day be on the shelves available for purchase, so help me god!!!!

Ahem. So, yeah, that didn’t happen. While my first book was slowly and quietly exiting the trenches, I began working on finishing my next one, an adult fantasy. This was another book that had started as fanfiction, but I quickly nipped that in the bud and transitioned it to original. I spent some time world-building before diving into revisions. The book was about a third written when I did this, and I have to say, pushing through that middle third, having to pause periodically and go back and rewrite whole chapters so everything would make sense again—it was a Herculean effort. But once I did that, the latter third just sort of wrote itself.

THE BOOK:

We all know genre and age group matter. We don’t like to say that some are “easier” or “harder” than others; this has a tendency to make it seem like some authors are just destined to suffer more while others get to skate through, stress-free. That just isn’t true. Every journey is different, but when I used to read HIGMA posts, it always mattered to me what genre and age group got the person agented. Mostly because, as a fantasy writer, I was looking to gauge how my own experience was most likely to play out.

“Adult fantasy” doesn’t really say enough to assuage any curious hopefuls, so I’ll be a little more specific: It's something of hybrid of my love of Victorian novels and Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s a Gaslamp fantasy (new term I learned!) that’s also cozy (another new publishing term I learned!) and very romantic (just try and stop me!). And queer, because again, just try and stop me.

It’s a love/hate letter to my time in grad school, and the terror of having to strike out on your own afterward, when the world sees you as an adult, but you still feel so very small inside. It’s about coming from a small, insular, family-oriented culture, and feeling that constant push-pull of belonging and not belonging.

I also put my dog in it. I’m sure you can see why.

THE JOURNEY, Part 2:

Fall 2023, I was still sending out a few hopeful queries for my YA fantasy. I sent this new book to my amazing critique partner, did some revisions afterward, and submitted to #SmoochPit. Yes, I still had “mentorship” on the brain—I guess I wasn’t at the point where I believed in myself enough to start querying again. In any case, I didn’t get selected. I sent the book to my second amazing critique partner and made even more revisions. At this point, the book was in a REALLY solid state. Thanks to my CPs, I tightened up the plot, made the love interest’s situation far more dire and deadly, and added a few new scenes to help with the pacing. My goal had been to keep the book under 100k. At one point during edits I hit 99,999. #GoalsMet.

Winter Break 2024. My YA fantasy had gotten what eventually proved to be its final full request. It had queried really well: 21 requests total. It received no offers because always, at the end of the day, publishing comes down to luck and marketing. C’est la vie. A lot of people will tell you YA fantasy is one of the toughest groups to break into, and boy, did I prove them right. Most agents loved the voice but felt the pacing was too slow for YA. Or they just didn’t “fall in love.” Or they didn’t think the world-building was unique enough to stand out. Keep in mind this book had been through a mentorship program and was about as polished as it could be.  (If you’re querying YA fantasy: godspeed.)

But I was ready to query my new book. I first queried those who’d requested the first book and were open (and who were also taking adult as well as YA). I got a few immediate fulls, a few “No”s—and a lot of crickets. I didn’t query in batches. I don’t know what sudden change had come over me, but I just felt like I had enough confidence in myself as a writer (thanks in no small part to my mentor and CPs) to know that the book was finally good enough. I just needed to find the right pair of eyes to see it.

I started off keeping track of my queries, passes, and requests in Word, but as the semester got going (I teach full time), that quickly fell to the wayside. In the end, I pretty much just let Query Tracker handle it for me. The book was doing stunningly well. My request rate hovered around 25%. I was giddy. Was this THE ONE? Was the dream finally going to come true??

And then the passes on fulls started trickling in. Too slow-paced seemed to be the prevailing thought. (Oh GREAT. Here we go again…) One agent said they loved it, knew readers would love it, knew it would sell well… but that they weren’t the agent to sell it. Each pass slowly broke my heart. I was seeing all over Twitter people complain about how “easy” it was to write and receive an offer for cozy fantasy and romantasy, and here was my book that slotted neatly into both categories… crashing and burning. It made me feel like such a loser. (Psst! Don’t do this to yourself. If social media comments are getting you down—turn off social media. Seriously. You don’t need it. As soon as it stops bringing you joy, it just might be time to say bye-bye.)

As the semester continued to kick my ass and eat at my very soul (you know, as it tends to do), I found it harder and harder to focus on querying. New agents were popping up here and there, and established agents were just starting to open, but all I could do was quickly check their MSWLs and make a note on my phone of when they were opening. As soon as I got the alert, I sat down, pulled up their Query Manager, and fired off a query. And went back to the ass-kicking and soul-eating.

A trio of full rejections came all within the span of the week. The prevailing reason was, again, pacing. Too slow. Too steady. “Perhaps if you ended the chapters on mini-cliffhangers,” one agent suggested. Wait—was that actual, actional feedback?! End the chapters on mini-cliffhangers, I thought. I can do that. A few days later, I received a partial request from a new agent. Before I sent the partial off, I did just that, at least for the first three chapters. It sort of went against the vibe I was going for, but maybe I was just too close to the story. Maybe I couldn’t see that my efforts to keep things calm and lighthearted had drifted too far into steady and boring. It took all of an afternoon to make the adjustments, and then off it went. I didn’t think much of it. Really, a part of me felt I’d made the story worse. I even saved it under a different file. You know, in case I had to go back to my older, better version of the story. Which I was certain I would.

And then a funny thing happened: for the first time, a partial turned into a full.

THE OFFER:

I had gotten partials before. But so far, every one of them had resulted in a pass. That this one didn’t—had that mini-cliffhanger thing actually worked? And I didn’t have to wait and wonder long: within a week, the agent replied: they wanted to chat.

OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING!! Was it though? Was it really, finally happening?? Could this actually BE an offer? I shared the news with my two Discord groups. The replies were unanimous: IT’S AN OFFER. And reader, they were right.

As querying authors, we’re used to playing the waiting game. But all of a sudden, everything started happening really, really fast. Like I was not remotely prepared for how quickly things would happen. Curiously enough, the offering agent didn’t mention pacing even once. They loved the characters. They loved the world. They loved pretty much everything about the book. Honestly? It didn’t feel real. I was so overcome by the reality that someone had actually read and enjoyed my book that I could barely remember to ask all the questions I was supposed to ask. 

The agent was kind enough to suggest three weeks, which took a huge burden off my shoulders, because I’d been planning to ask for exactly that amount of time—knowing full well that the ‘norm’ was two weeks. PSA: I think three weeks is becoming the new norm, so don’t be afraid to ask for it.

Whatever happened—I was thrilled. The offering agent (let’s call them “Agent A”) was incredibly kind, and I could tell they really just GOT my story. I knew I’d be more than happy to work with them. But within a week or so, I received another offer. 😱 If you think I was expecting this to happen, guess again. After all the passes I’d received, how was it possible that not one but TWO agents wanted to represent me and my stories?! The second agent (we’ll call them “Agent B”) was just as kind and warm as the first, and once again, I could tell they completely and utterly GOT my story. I was buzzing afterward. Whew! Did I have a decision to make.

But don’t worry. It wasn’t completely sunshine and rainbows. In the meantime, a flurry of full requests rapidly turned into a flurry of passes. The vast majority of these were split between two reasons: “This isn’t for me” and “I love this, but I just don’t have time to finish.” So yeah. Remember what I said about three weeks? If you feel up to the challenge, go ahead and ask for four. On top of that, there were 13 agents who had my query and never responded to my notification of an offer.

But who cares? They weren’t the agents for me. I had two amazing agents to choose between. It was a “champagne problem” as one person put it, and they were right. I was stressed; I was nervous; I was losing sleep—but I was in an incredibly fortunate position. I made “pros and cons” lists; I messaged friends who were familiar with one or the other agency. I asked folks in my online communities and real life friends what they thought. But ultimately it would come down to what *I* wanted for my book and my career.

And then, the night before my due date, I received a response from one of the last agents who still had my full: They weren’t quite finished. Could I give them a little more time?

Oh no. I’d been in such a great mood all day, so excited that this saga was finally coming to an end. I was going to have an agent! And I was pretty sure who I was going to pick, too. Then here was Agent C, asking for more time. I didn’t know what to do. What was the protocol here? Most of my writer friends said it was perfectly fine to offer more time. I said I would sleep on it. I did so, fully believing I’d tell Agent C, as politely and kindly as I could, that I was going to keep to the deadline. But then, I thought of something one of my CPs asked me: if I knew Agent C would offer, how would I feel if I didn’t give them the chance?

I couldn’t sleep. I woke up two hours before my alarm, turned on my PC, and typed out a response to Agent C: I would be happy to give them more time! I then emailed Agents A and B, and told them the new due date would be Friday, four days hence, and that I would inform them of my decision by the end of the weekend.

Four days later, Agent C passed.

So, with metaphorical pie all over my face, I once again pulled out my “pros and cons” lists. Once again, I had a decision to make. It wasn’t so much that I would have gone with Agent C no matter—more so that their sudden possible inclusion had thrown a wrench into my anxiety-ridden deliberations. But, Friday morning, I finally sat down and wrote one of the happiest emails I’ve ever written: accepting representation from an agent.

This was swiftly followed by one of the saddest emails I’ve ever written: turning down the offer of representation from the other agent. I teared up while doing it—I’m tearing up while thinking about it all over again! Everyone says it’s a wonderful place to be, when agents are “fighting over you.” But I can admit I didn’t enjoy it. I was overwhelmed and flattered, definitely! But it broke my heart to have to turn someone down. Unfortunately, it’s all part of the process. And I know that agent holds no grudges against me, and also hopefully knows I’ll be forever grateful for their interest in my dear little book.

So, here we are! I have another meeting set up tomorrow with my ✨new agent✨, and I hope to begin editing my book soon. And eventually going on submission! If you’ve read this far, you’re probably interested in stats, so I’ll paste them in here for you. Keep in mind this is somewhat inflated as I had around 5-6 full requests after my offer.

And here are the stats for my YA fantasy, which was also pretty cozy and romantic (though leaning more epic adventure than my adult book). I think it was a case of querying before the market was really interested in books like that—fingers crossed.

Lastly if you want to see the query for the book that got me agented, I’ll paste that below as well!

🌻🌻🌻

I’m pleased to send you my novel, THE HAPHAZARD BUT STILL ENTIRELY RESPECTABLE EDUCATION OF IMRYN DYRE, a 99,000 word demisexual x bi-disaster romantasy reminiscent of Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle. It blends the cozy, magical milieu of C. L Polk’s The Midnight Bargain with the gentle, slow burn romance of Alexandra Rowland’s A Taste of Gold and Iron.

As a half-goblin student on scholarship, Imi has known all his life that he’ll have to work harder than most. So, when the prestigious healer’s guild denies him entrance, he’s hardly surprised. Instead, he must accept a demeaning position as a live-in healer to a master wizard. While Elim Greenwood proves to be a kind if eccentric—not to mention painfully handsome—employer, Imi’s disappointment lingers. His dream of opening his own clinic and supporting his mother and siblings is gone.

Nevertheless, Imi finds himself drawn to the jovial and attentive Elim, who has hired him to soothe a painful curse that lies nestled in his chest. Just as seeds of romance begin sprouting, however, Imi discovers the truth about the curse: it’s slowly killing Elim, and even with Imi’s healing abilities, Elim will only live for a few more years.

Grief-stricken, Imi decides to turn his focus toward the less complicated curse of Elim’s cousin-in-law. But the carefully crafted healing spell falls apart, leaving the man a ghost unable to leave his wife’s side, while his body lies dead. With Elim’s help, Imi must steal and perform the counter-spell that will save them. Unfortunately, the spell lies in the vault of Elim’s greatest rival—who also happens to be the new lover of Elim’s ex-girlfriend.

Together they will have to infiltrate a high society party, steal the counter-spell, and revive Elim’s ghostly cousin-in-law.

Because if Imi can fix this, perhaps he can fix Elim too.

[BIO]