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Category: Help! I’ve already submitted to one agent and another has asked for an exclusive!

Posted on August 28, 2012January 19, 2017 - No Comments on So you’ve pitched successfully — now what? Part IX: but I thought…

So you’ve pitched successfully — now what? Part IX: but I thought…

I’m sorry about the uncharacteristically long silence, campers — and just before the deadline for The Sensual Surfeit Literary Competition of 2012, too. I’ve got to admit, in the welter of recent deadlines — you would be amazed at how many authors hold contracts specifying that they must deliver manuscripts or revisions immediately before or immediately after Labor Day — I had forgotten that the contest was ending so soon. And here I had planned to run a good dozen posts on incorporating strong, sense-based detail into narration, too.

So tell you what: I’m changing the deadline. Blogger’s prerogative. How does the beginning of December sound?

Seriously, I’m so swamped that I’m not sure I will be able to pull together a judging committee before that. And while I certainly plan to laud to the skies entries that have in fact made it in before the deadline, if I know writers — and I should, after seven years of blogging for and about them — I’ll bet that there are at least a few of you that honestly meant to pull together an entry by tomorrow, but just haven’t had the time.

Call me zany, but I’d like to hear from those folks. And I’d like to do it when I have time to read and enjoy their work. Which is a sentiment entirely appropriate to our topic du jour, how to handle multiple requests for submissions.

Last time — if you can remember back so far — we were discussing the sad tale of Hortense, a well-meaning, eager aspiring writer with a heart of gold and an itchy finger. Itchy, that is, to hit the SEND key or seal an envelope containing requested materials as soon as humanly possible after a real, live agent or editor has responded positively to a pitch or query.

Oh, it’s completely understandable: garnering a request for pages is darned exciting. What’s less understandable, from a professional reader’s point of view, is why a savvy writer would even consider responding to that request so rapidly that he does not have time to proofread the text first. Or to spell- and grammar-check it. Indeed, it’s not all that uncommon for aspiring writers to get so carried away that they simply send their entire writing file, rather than the number of pages the agent or editor requested.

I understand it: the writer believes that her big break is just around the corner; why hold off on leaping onto that charging locomotive? Especially when there’s so much chatter on the writers’ conference circuit to the effect that if a successful pitcher does not submit the requested manuscript before the agent or editor has a chance to forget that he made the request, she might as well not bother. Judging by the hefty percentage of successful pitchers that send out those pages before that agent or editor has time to pack, fly home from the conference, and stagger exhausted into his office, too tired to read, many pitchers evidently believe that the average pitch-hearer has a memory comparable to the lifespan of the common fruit fly.

Or so we must surmise, from the fact that so many submitters apparently believe that if the offer to read is not acted upon immediately, it will be dead in a week. Or two. Or, at maximum, six.

Successful queriers often succumb to the same urge, and not only because they, too, often conflate a request for pages with an imminent offer of representation. It’s not; it’s the first step toward that offer.

And a forest of raised hands crops up in the ether. “But Anne,” those of you who have felt the seductive pull of instant response, “I understand, at least intellectually, that any requested pages need to meet with the agent or editor’s approval before I’d receive an offer. I even get, because you harp on it so much here, that before the requester even sees my pages, they will probably have to make it past the sharp, ever-critical peepers of Millicent the agency screener. But isn’t it rude not to send out requested materials right away? I mean, if I don’t pop ‘em into the mail or hit SEND, won’t they suspect that I wasn’t prepared when I queried or pitched — and thus that my work is not ready to be published?”

In a word, no. Next question?

Just kidding: I know that there’s a lot of discussion to the contrary floating around out there. But think about it: in order for this to be the case, the requester would need to expect to see the requested materials right away — but hands up, anyone who has ever received such a request that said as much.

I spot a few hands out there. Would you still keep ‘em up if I modified the question to has an agent or editor ever asked you point-blank to send a manuscript within a specific, short window of time?

Wait, where did all of you go?

Such requests are exceedingly rare. It is exceedingly common, however, for aspiring writers new to receiving such requests to assume that I would like to see the first X pages could not possibly mean anything but I would like to see the first X pages, but only if you can get them to me within a day/week/month.

Tell me, rushers, under what conditions would it be reasonable for a pro to say the former, but mean the latter? I have actually received such a request for hyperspeed, and let me tell you, there was no ambiguity about it: I believe it took the form of, “Would you overnight your manuscript to me, as part of a two-week exclusive?”

Some of you rolling your eyes, am I not? “But Anne, I’ve read many places online that a manuscript must be 100% finished before it’s pitched or queried — and that if a writer wants to be taken seriously, he should be able to produce it on a second’s notice. If I waited, say, the two weeks it would take for me to read the requested pages IN THEIR ENTIRETY, IN HARD COPY, and preferably OUT LOUD, because that’s the best way to catch problems that I might not want the agent or editor of my dreams to see, that would harm my submission’s chances, right??”

Again, the short answer is no. But the long answer is substantially more interesting.

First off, the expectation that a manuscript would be complete prior to querying or pitching applies only to fiction; since nonfiction, including memoir, is generally sold in the U.S. on a book proposal, not a manuscript, most nonfiction books are sold before the writer has completed a full draft. And even for novels, it’s very, very common for both the agent and the acquiring editor to request revisions, so really, few professional readers harbor the illusion that any submitted manuscript is the final version.

Which means, in practice, that since any manuscript remains a work-in-progress until it is actually published and sitting on a reader’s shelf — and sometimes not even then — it would not be at all surprising if a writer conceived a wish to tinker with it a little before sending it out. Indeed, if tinkering makes the difference between a submission riddled with typos or not completely gelled on a story level and one that is, well, neither of those things, why wouldn’t an agent prefer to see the latter?

Equally pertinent, why would a writer not prefer to be judged on her most polished work?

Ah, you will say, but what about the suspicion that my work wasn’t already polished enough to submit? Let’s pause to consider what would have to be true in order for agents apply this particular criterion to judging a submission. First, the agency would need to care about speed of submission — which would be an easy thing to convey in a request, right? Second, even if they did care, they would need to hire someone to keep track of when the request went out and when the submission came in, right? In an era when agencies are laying off staff, why would they spend the money to double-check that requested materials arrived within a week, rather than within a month?

Now we have reached the core: they would want this information is if (a) they were looking for excuses to reject the submission unread, which would render the exercise of requesting it a waste of everyone’s time, (b) they were not aware that the overwhelming majority of such requests do not result in a submission (yes, really; writers get nervous), or (c) as soon as the agent issued the request, the agency blocked off a specific amount of time to read it and that time is darned soon.

I’m not saying that any of those things are impossible, campers; human preferences are notoriously variable. I’m merely asking you to consult probability on the subject of whether an agent’s making such a request must necessarily mean that she has nothing else to do until the manuscript arrives. Or that she would immediately drop all of her other work when it does arrive.

Are some of you blushing? ‘Fess up: deep in your heart, you did hope this was what would happen, didn’t you? But honestly, what are the chances that your manuscript was the only one the agent had requested recently? Or that, given the huge volume of queries any good agency receives, that there wouldn’t already be a backlog of reading by the time yours arrived?

Starting to make more sense that turn-around times are measured in months, not hours?

Calm yourself, blushers: this particular presumption is almost universal amongst first-time submitters, and not, I think due to over-large authorial ego. In my experience, most aspiring writers just haven’t thought about the practicalities of submission all that much. Or, if they do, they simply don’t know enough about how agencies actually work to make an educated guess.

Why is that problematic? Okay, let me ask you: what does the photograph at the top of this page depict?

Hard to tell when the viewer is so close to it, no? That’s more or less the situation faced by the first-time submitter: she — let’s call her Hortense — knows that she’s been asked to send all or part of her manuscript, but she doesn’t have the information to assess what that means in practice, precisely. So, if she’s like most first-time submitters, her guesses are based more upon what she would like to be true than what is actually the case.

Again, that’s understandable, but likely to lead Hortense astray. But if we encourage her to pull back a little, we can gain a bit of perspective.

Now we can at least see that it’s vegetable matter, but it’s hard to tell what kind or where it is. It’s certainly a clearer picture than we had before, though, right?

In case I’m being too subtle here, this is where Hortense is likely to end up if she derives her impressions of what a request for materials means from asking around. Listening to the common wisdom passed around at conferences. Trolling the Internet indiscriminately. Getting so freaked out by why she learns from either that her mental image of what’s likely to happen to her submission is based upon not her hopes, but her fears.

Starting to make more sense that most requested materials are never sent? Given how arbitrary many of the so-called rules Hortense is likely to find floating around out there seem to be, could you really blame her for being scared to try her luck, lest she inadvertently do something wrong?

The fact is, though, that the overwhelming majority of submissions are rejected based upon what is on the manuscript page, not other criteria. Oh, Millicent might bounce a submission because it’s improperly formatted, is accompanied by a rude cover letter (more common than anyone might hope, especially in e-mailed submissions), or doesn’t contain the materials the agent requested (the aforementioned over-excited writer’s sending the entire book when asked for 50 pages), but honestly, most of the time, Millicent actually reads some text.

So Hortense, honey, what you should be picturing is this:

I know, I know, Hortense: the last thing you expected was a stalk of corn growing out of a storm drain. But the fact remains that both of the previous photos depicted it, too; you just didn’t have enough information to see it properly.

Speaking of not necessarily having access to full information, in our last post, we were discussing a couple of dilemmas that dog quick responders like Hortense: having already granted an exclusive to Agent A when Agent B asks to see pages, and already having sent out an ordinary submission to Agent A when Agent B requests an exclusive.

These are not the only possible permutations of this dilemma, however. Sometimes, Hortense just plain doesn’t noticing that Agent A works at an exclusive-only agency before sending out queries to A, B, and C simultaneously. Nothing wrong with that, of course — unless she doesn’t realize when A, B, and C all ask for pages that she cannot legitimately submit to all three at once.

Why? Chant it with me now, campers: by definition, an exclusive look may be granted to only one agent at a time. Therefore, if a writer already has that manuscript under submission at another agency, he cannot grant an exclusive to another agent, nor can he in good conscience send out subsequent submissions while that manuscript is under exclusive with an agent already.

That’s pretty self-evident to someone familiar enough with submission in general and exclusives in particular to anticipate this situation: that writer already knows that it’s a stalk of corn growing out of a storm drain. But to a Hortense that’s either too close to the sidewalk to see anything but the shadow or viewing it at an angle that renders making out the details difficult, all of these scenarios may well appear to be irresolvable disasters.

But they’re not: it’s just corn.

If Hortense didn’t realize that Agent A worked at an exclusive-only agency, or A just asks for an unanticipated exclusive, she is under no more obligation not to query other agents than if she did know. But if she grants A an exclusive, she has no business sending out requested materials to B. By the same token, if she has already sent pages to A when B asks for an exclusive, she cannot grant it until she has heard back from A.

Which isn’t necessarily a problem, right? It’s not as though Hortense must respond to either A or B’s request for materials right away. Indeed, if she had taken some time before responding to A in the first scenario, she might have been in the enviable position of fielding two requests simultaneously, allowing her to decide whether she would prefer to honor the exclusive request first or second.

The third situation — in which she was too close to the corn to realize that in her excitement to respond to submission requests from A, B, and C, she had granted A’s exclusivity request while B and C also had her manuscript — is quite a bit dicier. Ethically, she should inform A as soon as humanly possible that she had made an honest mistake.

No need to go into how or why. All A needs to know is that Hortense inadvertently granted a non-exclusive exclusive. A is unlikely to be happy about this, but at least she will have been honest.

Truth compels me to add hastily, however, that Hortenses that find themselves in this situation — or, indeed, Hortenses that are far enough away from the corn to see that they are about to enter this situation — are not always so honest. Figuring that the worst that can happen is that she might have to tell A that she’s already signed with B, she gleefully grants A the requested exclusive while simultaneously submitting to B and C.

Shame on you, Hortense. Wake up and smell the cornstalk.

From the perspective of someone with, well, perspective, simply remaining silent in the hope that you won’t get caught defeats the purpose of granting the exclusive in the first place. Yes, the odds are stacked against writers trying to break into the biz, but that’s no excuse for not submitting in good faith.

If you’re not comfortable limiting yourself to a single submission, don’t grant an exclusive. You’re under no obligation; just say no, politely, and move on.

What the writer should most emphatically not do is expect the agent to solve any of these dilemmas. Which, incidentally, is many a writer’s first impulse, if those who contact me on the sly to ask my advice are any indication. Bless their optimistic little hearts, the Hortenses of this world seem to believe that of only the agent in question understood how eagerly they want to find representation, the pro’s heart would melt.

“Of course, you may indulge in multiple submissions while I’m reading it,” the exclusive-requesting agent would say, tossing candy to the world’s children from Santa’s sleigh, assisted by the Easter Bunny, Bigfoot, and a miraculously still-alive Amelia Earhart. “My agency was just kidding about that whole exclusives-only thing.”

Call me a pessimist, but I simply don’t believe that’s going to happen; I’ve seen too much corn growing out of too many grates. Trying to negotiate one’s way out of this situation only tends to change the representation question from whether the agent likes the manuscript enough to represent it to whether he really wants to deal with someone who has this much difficulty following directions.

It’s much easier than most submitters think to create that impression, you know. Don’t believe me? Let’s take a gander at how it might have worked out had our exemplar already had a submission out to another agent when another asked for an exclusive. Okay, Hortense, try to negotiate a different outcome.

Dear Hortense:

Thank you for querying me with your novel, TERMINAL INDECISIVENESS. Please send the first fifty pages.

As you may already be aware, our agency will accept only exclusive submissions. Please enclose a SASE.

Regards,

Bradley McPicky

After our Hortense finishes dancing a jig on the nearest table, it hits her that she’s caught in a dilemma: last week, she mailed her first 75 pages to Chelsea Selectiveson, the first agent that asked – and when she heard from Bradley, she had already been can-canning because Minette Imanagenttoo had just requested the full manuscript. Thinking for some odd reason that honesty is always the best policy, she dashes to her computer to fill in Mssr. McPicky.

Dear Brad:

Thank you for your interest in my novel. I would be delighted to grant you an exclusive, but the fact is, two other agents already have partial manuscripts, and I don’t know when I shall be hearing back from them. I’m really impressed with your agency, though, and I certainly don’t want to knock it out of consideration.

Since it would obviously be impossible for me to give you an exclusive on material that’s already elsewhere, is it okay if I just go ahead and send you what I’ve sent the others?

Hortense Wideeyednewbie

Charming, perhaps, but misguided: Hortense can’t see beyond those vague shadows. Mssr. McPicky, however, has been growing corn in storm drains for years. He’s a kind farmer, however, so he lets her down gently.

Dear Hortense:

As I mentioned, my agency only accepts submissions on an exclusive basis. Best of luck placing your manuscript elsewhere.

Bradley

What happened here? Hortense tried to shift responsibility for solving her dilemma onto Bradley’s shoulders, that’s what. (Also, she addressed him by a familiar nickname, rather than the name with which he signed his letter; a small faux pas, but one he might well resent.) From her point of view, this strategy made perfect sense: his request had caused a problem, so she asked him to modify his it.

Hortense was just being honest, right?

Unfortunately, Hortense was also wasting his time. From Bradley’s point of view (only his mother calls him Brad), Hortense was asking him to change agency policy for the sake of a single writer who, for all he knows, simply did not bother to check what those policies were before querying.

So I ask you: what possible incentive could Bradley have for saying yes?

Got the impulse to quibble out of your system, Hortense? Good. Next time, may I suggest that you double-check every agency’s submission guidelines before you pop any requested materials in the mail? And perhaps read those requests for materials a trifle more closely in future?

So what should she have done instead? Waited either until she had heard back in the negative from the other agents (she wouldn’t need to worry about Bradley if one or both responded positively, right?), then sent her manuscript to him, along with a cover letter saying that she would be happy to grant him an exclusive for 3 months.

No need to bug him with explanatory e-mails in the interim. Hortense knows better to believe that he’s cleared his schedule in anticipating of reading her work. She knows corn when she sees it.

Once he has the manuscript, though, Hortense will have to abide by their agreement: allow Bradley an exclusive until the agreed-upon time has elapsed. If he has not gotten back to her by a couple of weeks after the appointed time, she could then inform him that unless he would like an extension upon his exclusive (which you are under no obligation to grant, H), she will be submitting it to the other agents who have requested it.

What’s that you say, Hortense? Isn’t Bradley likely to say no at that point? Perhaps, but not necessarily — and you will have done your level best to conduct your submission process honorably.

“Okay,” the formerly disgruntled agree reluctantly, “I guess that makes some sense. But what about the writer — say, Hortense’s brother Melvin — who has an open-ended exclusive arrangement with Jade, an agent whose agency does not insist upon solo submissions? She’s had it for months, and four other agents have asked to see his book! Given how many are interested, can’t he just move on without telling her, and hope that she will be the first to make an offer, so he doesn’t have to ‘fess up about sending his manuscript elsewhere?”

The short answer is no. The long answer is that this is what the situation would look like to Jade:

Weren’t expecting that corn-laden grate to be located on a busy street, were you? Neither, unfortunately, was Melvin.

So what should he do now? Well, it depends upon how long it’s been. Melvin should check the agency’s website, its agency guide listing, and the letter Jade sent him, requesting an exclusive: has it been at least as long as any mentioned turn-around time — or, to be on the safe side, a few weeks longer? If not, he cannot in good conscience send out requested materials to any other agent regardless of whether others requested exclusives in the meantime.

Don’t even consider it, Melvin. Jade’s street sees a lot of traffic; if you break your promise to her, she can always go looking for other corn.

And no, Hortense, contacting everyone concerned to explain the dilemma will not eliminate it; all that will do is tell all of the agents involved that Melvin is trying to change the rules. Either trying to renegotiate with Jade at this point or telling the others they will need to wait, will not win him points with anybody: it will merely look, and probably rightly so, as though he didn’t understand what an exclusive was when he granted it.

How may Melvin handle this dilemma with his integrity intact? Wait it out for the stated turn-around time (plus two weeks), then send the polite note I mentioned above: remind Jade that she asked for an exclusive, but inform her that he has had other requests for materials. Do not leave that last bit out: it’s imperative that Jade is aware before she makes a timing decision that others are indeed interested.

If Jade writes back and says she wants to represent him, he has only two options — saying yes without sending out further submissions or saying no and sending out to the other four. If Jade does make an offer he wishes to accept, it would be courteous of Melvin to send a polite note to the other four, saying precisely what happened: another agent made an offer before he could send out the materials they requested.

They’ll understand; this happens all the time. Corn’s tricky that way.

If Jade asks for more time, Melvin should consider carefully whether he is willing to grant it. If he does, he should set a date — say, a month hence — beyond which he will start sending out manuscripts to the other four.

If, however, Jade doesn’t respond to his polite follow-up e-mail within three weeks, he should not, as many writers in this situation are tempted to do, overload her inbox with increasingly panicked e-mails. On day 22 (three weeks + 1 day), Melvin should send the requested materials to the four agents, along with cover letters explaining that others are looking at it simultaneously. No need to specify who is doing the looking, just that they are.

To deal courteously with Jade at this point, he should send a letter, saying that while she is still his first choice (the implication of an exclusive, always), since the exclusive has now expired, he is now sending out requested materials to other agents. As, indeed, he had already given her notice that he might do if she didn’t get back to him. If she is still interested in continuing to review his manuscript, he would be delighted to hear from her.

Again, this happens all the time. As long as a writer does what he said he was going to do, he’s unlikely to run into much trouble with an exclusive — but remember, this is an industry where reputations count; in the long run, it’s in your interest every bit as much as the agent’s that you honor the exclusivity agreement, if you grant it in the first place.

A tip for figuring out how long to suggest a requested exclusive should be: take the amount of time you feel you could wait calmly if you had a second request for materials burning a hole in your pocket. Now double it.

Take a gander at that number: is it expressed in days or weeks, rather than months? If so, may I suggest gently that you may be too impatient to exist happily with any length of exclusive?

You can always say no, right? Right? Can you hear me, Melvin?

Frankly, I think most submitters faced with an exclusive request overreact to the prospect of a comparatively short wait — or did not have a realistic sense of how long it can take these days for an agent to make up his mind about a manuscript. 3- to 6-month turn-around times are the norm these days, at least for manuscripts that make it past Millicent’s hyper-intense scrutiny of page 1. And let’s face it, holding off for a few days or weeks before responding to subsequent requests for pages is not going to harm the writer’s chances with the agents requesting them.

After all, it’s not as though they requested the materials, then cleared their schedules for the foreseeable future in order to hold their respective breaths until the submission arrived. Since a startlingly high percentage of requested materials never show up at all, they’d get awfully blue.

It’s all part of that great cornfield known as the literary market. Keep reexamining those assumptions, campers, and as always, keep up the good work!

Posted on August 18, 2012January 19, 2017 - 2 Comments on So you’ve pitched successfully — now what? Part VIII: Help! I’m feeling disoriented. What if an agent is ready to say I do, and I can’t?

So you’ve pitched successfully — now what? Part VIII: Help! I’m feeling disoriented. What if an agent is ready to say I do, and I can’t?


When we left off last time, we were in the throes of discussing the options open to the pitcher or querier so successful in presenting her book concept that an agent says, “By gum, I not only want to see this manuscript — because, contrary to surprisingly pervasive belief amongst writers’ conference attendees, no agent in his right mind would agree to represent a book project by a non-celebrity without first reading some of that writer’s prose — but I want to be the only agent considering representing it.” While the standard first response to this is, as one might imagine, to jump for joy, caper in the streets, and rush to send off the requested materials before the agent could possibly change his mind, the third of those initial impulses is not always in the writer’s best interest.

How so, you ask mid-caper? Well, most requests for exclusive peeks at manuscripts or book proposals do not come with a time limit. The agent simply specifies that he would like not to be competing with other agents to represent the project, and that’s it. And because this is, let’s face it, a flattering request, it doesn’t occur to most writers to say, “That’s fine — for six months,” rather than some stripe of “YES! Whatever you want! I want to kiss the hem of your garment for paying this much attention to my work! May I name my firstborn child/next beloved pet/a small tropical island after you, as an appropriate token of my gratitude?”

It always gives me joy to see a talented writer this happy, but having heard the latter response issuing from aspiring writers’ gullets hundreds, if not thousands, of times in recent years, I feel compelled to tell you that this is usually not the best strategic response to such a request. Oh, you can dance little jigs and alarm your neighbors with shrieks of joy with my blessing. Just be aware that granting an open-ended exclusive presents the submitter with the fewest follow-up options.

If all goes well, that might not be an issue, but remember, an agent in the habit of asking for exclusives may well do so habitually. It may be agency policy, in fact. Even if it isn’t, the request does not constitute a guarantee that the submission will be moved up to the front of the agency’s reading queue.

So I ask you to stop tap-dancing on that coffee table long enough to consider: how many weeks, months, or years would it take before you, cavorting submitter, would come to regard having granted that exclusive to be an actual liability? And what if — brace yourselves — you never heard back from the exclusive-requesting agent at all?

That immense, sky-shattering moan you just heard emitted from the mouths of those that found this post in the archives after a frantic search once they realized that the exclusive they granted some weeks/months/years ago did not in fact come with an expiration date. Those that looked up this post after having granted an open-ended exclusive, then received a materials request from another agent, probably contented themselves with punching the nearest wall.

To help those tortured souls feel better, as well as to edify of those of you that have not yet fallen into either of these categories, let me hasten to add that most of the time, writers find themselves in these predicaments through no fault of their own. They may not have thought through the implications of the exclusive before they granted it, or, more commonly, simply were not aware that there could be negative fall-out from something as inherently wonderful as professional interest in their writing.

In fact, under ordinary circumstances, giving multiple pitches at a conference or organizing query timing to maximize the probability that more than one agent will want to be reading all or part of one’s manuscript at any given time is quite sensible. Ideally, an agent-seeking writer should want to have several agents interested simultaneously; it’s always nice to be able to choose between competing offers.

It can happen, but it doesn’t happen all by itself. The writer has to plan for it.

I speak from personal experience here: I had three offers on the table and manuscripts out with four more agents when I decided to go with my agency. Admittedly, my memoir had just won a major contest at a writers’ conference that at the time habitually made a point of rounding up the winners in its top categories and herding them into a room stuffed to the gills with agents, but even so, I was the only winner that year who ended up garnering an offer of representation from one of those agents, much less several. (Word to the wise: it’s not all that uncommon for even agents who attend many conferences not to pick up new clients at any given conference. Before you plunk down the sometimes hefty conference registration fee, you might want to ask point-blank how many of last year’s attending agents actually signed a writer met that that conference.)

That wasn’t accidental: I had been fortunate enough to have friends who had won that contest in previous years, and mirabile dictu, I had even listened to their advice. I already knew not to grant an exclusive to anyone; that would have tied my hands and meant, effectively, that if the first agent who asked for an exclusive (and several did) made an offer, I wouldn’t be able to sound out the others before saying yes or no.

I’m sensing some bewilderment amongst those of you who walked in halfway through this discussion, am I not? “Wait just a jealousy-inducing minute, Anne!” some of you cry. “Why precisely would granting an exclusive to the first agent that tackled you after you accepted your award have been a bad thing? If that agent said yes, you’d have an agent!”

I see where you’re going with this: it would in fact have saved some effort on my part. Let’s tease out the logic: an exclusive is an arrangement whereby a writer allows an agent to read a particular manuscript while no other agent will be reviewing it. The agent requests an exclusive because she would prefer not to compete with other agents over the manuscript; the writer agrees, presumably, because if this agent says yes, he will neither need nor want to approach other agents.

That’s dandy — if the exclusive-requester happens to be the agent of one’s dreams. But, frankly, there were a lot of agents at that conference that had great track records for selling memoir. Because I pitched to all of them and had not hung all of my hopes on conference pitching, I woke up the following Monday with sixteen requests to read the book proposal.

Did responding to all of those requests simultaneously constitute a heck of a lot of work for me? Of course, but remember, the goal is just to get any agent to say yes; it’s to track down the best agent for the project. While it’s certainly possible to listen carefully to what the agents to whom you are planning to pitch say on the conference dais about how they handle book projects in general, a writer doesn’t usually have the opportunity to hear how a specific agent would handle her book until after an offer of representation is already on the table.

Half of you zoned out while reading that last paragraph, didn’t you? “Sixteen requests for pages? How on earth did that happen?”

Ah, but it didn’t just happen. Because I had seen past contest winners stand around and wait for agents to seek them out, a hopeful passivity that tended to leave them walking out of the awards ceremony with no requests for pages at all, I knew that if the win were to do me any good — and not all contest wins do, even major ones — I would need not only to speak with every agent at that conference, but follow up with a blizzard of submissions. I also knew that while I was making it show manuscript pages at some agencies, I should be continuing to query others. Just in case.

Once this multi-pronged strategy paid off in the form of offers, though, I realized I had a dilemma: each of the three agents professing eagerness to represent my work was equally qualified to do it. Oh, they had different styles, as well as different tastes, but their connections were more or less identical. So I had to ask myself: what do I want out of the writer-agent relationship other than the agent’s having the connection, energy, and will to sell my books?

Hadn’t thought about that, had you? Almost no aspiring writer does. Or about the logical follow-up questions: what factors would make an agent the right one for my writing, other than a desire to represent it? When you get right down to it, what makes one agent different from another?

The vast majority of pitchers and queriers do not give serious thought to this question, interestingly, until they find themselves faced with multiple submission requests. Oh, the ones who do their homework ponder what various agents represent, as well as their track record for selling the work of first-time authors (usually quite a bit more difficult than convincing an editor to acquire a book by someone who already has a demonstrable audience; that’s why many agents choose to represent only the previously-published). But let’s face it, these examinations are really geared to the question how likely is this agent to want to represent me? rather than is this the best conceivable agent to represent my writing?

Let that bee buzz around your bonnet for a while. The resulting synaptic activity will be useful in pondering the implications of the rest of this post — and, for those of you that will dig this post out of the archives because you’re frantic to find out how to handle conflicting requests from agents, help you figure out what your next step should be.

Typically, writers don’t give serious thought to the what do I want from an agent, other than willingness to represent me? conundrum unless they find themselves in one of three situations. First, our questioner from last week, unsure what to do because she had already agreed to let one agent sneak an exclusive peek at her manuscript, but another agent had asked afterward to see it non-exclusively. Second, someone like me, the aggressive multiple pitcher/querier/submitter who hears back positively from several agents. Third, an already-agented writer who finds herself in the unenviable position of having to find a new agent.

Oh, should I have warned you to sit down before I brought up that last one? “Oh, ye Muses!” pitchers and queriers everywhere shout, breathing skittishly into paper bags in an attempt to cease hyperventilating. “You mean that it’s possible that I might have to go through this hideous process more than once?”

Actually, if you are a career writer, it’s fairly probable. I don’t want to frighten you, but in the current extraordinarily tight literary market, agents have been known to change specialties. They occasionally decide to leave the biz. Agencies do go under, or merge. And as much as I would support any really good agent’s application to Olympus for immortality, they do occasionally shuffle off this mortal coil. Under any of these conditions, an agented writer might well need to seek out new representation.

If your breathing has returned to normal, though, may I add that sometimes representation relationships just don’t work out? It’s quite simply harder to sell books than it used to be; inevitably, that’s going to cause some writer-agent relationships to fray. Than, too, people’s interests change over time: what constituted a great fit five years ago might very well not be five years hence.

See why I want you to start thinking about qualities you want in an agent before you’re fielding offers?

Since an already-agented writer’s plunging back into the pitching and querying phrase is an extremely complicated kettle of worms, let’s stick for now with the dilemma facing the writer in one of the other two situations. What’s an (extremely fortunate, by any standard) writer — let’s call her Hortense — to do if other agents want to take a peek at a manuscript that Agent #1 has asked to see exclusively?

Well, the first thing Hortense should do is scour the actual wording of the request for exclusivity. What honoring it means vis-à-vis approaching other agents really depends upon the terms of the exclusivity agreement. Unless that exclusivity agreement was open-ended — as in the agent has until the end of time to make up her mind about whether to represent the book in question — the writer has every right to start sending out her work to other agents the instant the exclusive expires.

But let’s assume for the moment that Hortense was one of the tap-dancing many that acted upon an open-ended exclusive request, no questions asked. It has now been three months, and she has other requests for manuscript pages in hand. Should she

(a) Silently abide by her commitment to Agent #1 for the duration of the agreed-upon period of exclusivity, even if that means waiting forever, because ethically, she can do nothing else?

(b) Abide by her commitment to Agent #1, but since a reasonable period of time has passed, send a polite reminder after a reasonable period, saying that because other agents are clamoring to see the manuscript, she would really, really like to hear back soon?

(c) Abide by her commitment to Agent #1, but send a series of increasingly vehement protests over how long Agent #1 has had the manuscript?

(d) Follow tactic (c), but begin sending those protests three weeks after the exclusive began?

(e) Abide by her commitment to Agent #1 as long as nobody else expresses interest, but instantly e-mail him the moment she hears from Agent #2, asking #1 if it’s okay to disregard their exclusivity agreement, since the situation has changed?

(f) E-mail Agent #1 as soon as Agent #2′s request arrives, informing #1 that she’s sending the manuscript to somebody else, as if the exclusivity agreement did not exist?

(g) Follow the essential outlines of (f), but embrace this missive as an opportunity to inform Agent #1 that he’s a slowpoke, dream-assassin, or worse?

(h) Send out the requested materials to Agents #2, #3, #4, as they come in, without telling Agent #1, because unless one of them offers to represent her, she’d never have to confess what she has done?

(i) Wait another two or three months, then pursue tactic (h)?

(j) Wait as long as she can possibly stand it, then send a formal, dignified e-mail to Agent #1, thanking him for his interest, but saying that she’s terminating the exclusive?

Oh, you may laugh at some of those options, but I assure you, submitters facing this conundrum routinely engage in all of them. And you or someone you know may well have engaged in one or more of them. If Hortense chose

(a) and are still in the midst of waiting indefinitely, she has good manners. Her mother and I are proud — but it hasn’t really solved Hortense’s problem, has it?

(b) and informed Agent #1 that you would like to hear back, Hortense still has pretty good manners. Provided, of course, that she waited a few months before she pursued this option, and engaged in it only once.

(c) and kept her word not to send out her work, but sent out querulous complaints about it, well, Hortense is like most exclusive-granters. Ultimata almost never work, but it probably made her feel better.

But confidentially to those of you that followed Hortense down this ill-advised path: after the first one or two messages, you stopped hearing back, right? Is it a better use of your energy to pick a fight with someone you want to be on your side, or to move on?

(d) and began sending those protests three weeks after the exclusive began, Hortense’s submission was probably pulled out of consideration on that basis alone. She should consider the submission dead and move on with no further comment.

(e) and instantly e-mailed Agent #1 to ask if it was okay to disregard her exclusivity agreement, since the situation had changed, Hortense doesn’t have a clear understanding of how exclusives work. #1 would be within his rights not only to say no, but to be a trifle insulted.

Why? Chant it with me now, campers: what an exclusive means in practice is that the writer guarantees that nobody else will be in the running while the requesting agent is pondering the pages. Essentially, the pursuant of (e) is saying, “You didn’t REALLY mean that, did you? How could you have, when it’s not in my best interest that you did?”

Not going to fly, I’m afraid. By definition, once Hortense has granted an exclusive, she must abide by its terms. So she really has no excuse for

(f) e-mailing Agent #1 as soon as Agent #2′s request arrived, informing #1 that she’s sending the manuscript to somebody else. Again, Hortense would be displaying that she just doesn’t get the whole exclusivity thing. And if she compounded the problem by

(g) following the essential outlines of (f), but embrace this missive as an opportunity to inform Agent #1 that he’s a slowpoke, dream-assassin, or worse, was she raised by wolves? Apart from the inherent rudeness of such an approach — which, among other things, demonstrates an expectation that #1 would have dropped all of his other duties to pay attention to her submission — in what imaginable scenario would #1 respond positively to such an accusation?

If Hortense is the strong, silent type, she could pursue (h), and send out the requested materials to Agents #2, #3, #4, as they come in, without telling Agent #1, but that would be unethical. Even if she honestly didn’t understand what an exclusivity agreement meant when she said yes to it, it isn’t fair to any of the agents involved. However, if she

(i) waited another two or three months, then pursued tactic (h), it would at least be understandable. But she would have to write off Agent #1 at that point, anyway, so why not

(j) send a formal, dignified e-mail to Agent #1, thanking him for his interest, but saying that since it’s been six months, she’s terminating the exclusive.

I see some of you shaking your heads. “But Anne, I’m confused. It seems as though this is a no-win situation for Hortense. She can ask for an update, but if the agent’s too busy to respond or works at an agency that simply doesn’t tell submitters when they’ve been rejected, her hands are tied by his silent, aren’t they? So is her only winning move not to play the exclusive game at all?”

Not necessarily; if she would sign with Agent #1 with no hesitation if he offered representation and he prefers to read exclusively, saying yes might well make sense. But she cannot ethically retract that agreement after the fact, except to pull her submission out of consideration at #1′s agency. Until she does that — or enough silent time has passed that she has good reason to consider the submission dead — she cannot legitimately send that manuscript elsewhere.

That means — and this seems to come as a surprise to many submitters — that she also cannot ethically grant an exclusive request if any other agents have the manuscript. Because that point is so widely misunderstood, let me state it as an aphorism: by definition, a writer cannot grant an exclusive if any agent is currently reading any part of the manuscript in question; in order to comply with a request for an exclusive, the writer must wait until all of the agents reading it at the time the exclusivity request arrived have informed him of their decisions.

But let’s get back to Hortense’s underlying problem: what happens if an agent who asked for an exclusive doesn’t get back to the writer within a reasonable amount of time? Is the writer still bound by the exclusivity agreement? Or is there some point at which it’s safe to assume that silence equals thanks, but we’re not interested rather than hold your proverbial horses — we haven’t gotten around to reading it yet?

The short answers to each of those last three questions, in the order asked: it depends on the terms of the original agreement; it depends on the terms of the original agreement; it depends on the terms of the original agreement.

Why? Shout it along with me now, campers: how a writer can ethically respond to any of these situations rests entirely upon whether he had the foresight to set an end date for the exclusive when she first agreed to it. If an exclusive is open-ended, the writer cannot ethically send out requested materials to other agents until one of two things happens: the exclusive-requester informs the writer that she has rejected the manuscript, or so many months have passed without word from the agent that it’s safe to assume that the answer is no.

Even then — say, six months — I’d still advise Hortense to send an e-mail, asking if Agent #1is finished with the manuscript. It’s only polite.

Or she could have avoided this dilemma entirely by hedging her bets from the get-go. Hortense could have granted the exclusive, but send the manuscript along with a cover letter that mentions how delighted she was to agree to a three-month exclusive. Agent #1 could always have come back with a request for more time, but at least poor Hortense wouldn’t be left wondering six months hence whether she would offend #1 by moving on.

Being ethical is a tough row to hoe, in short. “But Anne!” exclaim aspiring writers who want there to be more options than there actually are. “Why should I borrow trouble? Surely, you don’t expect me to run the risk of offending an agent by implying that he’s not going to get back to me in a timely manner?”

Hey, I don’t expect anything; do as you think best. I’m just the person that aspiring writers keep asking — on average, about 23 times per month — how to get out of an exclusive that hasn’t panned out as they had hoped.

To help you weigh the relevant risks, let’s look at the phenomenon from the other side of the agreement. Generally speaking, agents will request exclusives for only one of three reasons: they fear that there will be significant competition over who will represent the project, they don’t like to be rushed while reading, or it is simply the agency’s policy not to compete with outside agencies, ever.

Do I feel some of you out there getting tense over that third possibility, doing the math on just how many years (if not decades) it could take to make it through your list of dream agents if you had to submit to them one at a time? Relax, campers: requests for exclusives are actually fairly rare.

Why rare? Well, the first kind of exclusive request I mentioned last time, the one Agent A might use to prevent Agents B-R from poaching your talents before A has had a chance to read your manuscript (hey, A’s desk is already chin-deep in paper), tends to be reserved for writers with more than just a good book to offer. Those that happen to be celebrities, for instance, or won a major contest fifteen minutes ago.

Basically, the agent is hoping to snap up the hot new writer before anybody else does. Or before the HNW realizes that s/he might potentially be in the enviable position of being able to choose amongst several offers of representation.

Which brings me back to those knotty questions I asked earlier in this post: what do you want from your future agent, over and above the ability and willingness to sell your books for you? Since pretty much every respectable agency offers the same service, such choices are often made on the basis of connections, how well-established the agency is, or even how well the writer and the agent happen to hit it off.

Agents, as it happens, are aware of all that. If an agent fears that the other contenders might be able to offer a rosier prospect (or, in a conference situation, just have more engaging personalities), it might well be worth his while to buttonhole the HNW and get her to commit to an exclusive before anyone else can get near enough to ask.

So if you suddenly find yourself the winner of a well-respected literary contest or on the cover of People, remember this: just because an agent asks for an exclusive does not mean you are under any obligation to grant it. Because the writer owns the manuscript, she, not the agent, is technically in control of an exclusivity agreement.

I know, I know: aspiring writers are seldom used to thinking of the submission process this way, but the agent is only allowed to read your manuscript because you say it is okay, right? While Hortense would not have been in a position to set conditions on a submission if there were no question of an exclusive peek (indeed, the average agency reviews far too many manuscripts for any given submitter to be in a position to bargain at that point), she was the person in the best position to determine whether granting an exclusive was in her manuscript’s best interest.

Which means, of course, that you are. Yes, even if the alternative is not allowing the exclusive-seeking agent to see it at all.

It doesn’t always make sense to say yes to a request for an exclusive. If several agents are already interested in your work, it might not be. The implicit understanding in an exclusive-read situation is that if the agent makes an offer, the writer will say yes immediately. The question, then, you should ask yourself before you grant an exclusive is not “Is this an agent?” but “Is this the best agent for my work?”

If you would like to be in a position to compare and contrast offers from different agents, you should be hesitant to grant exclusives. Or to say yes to them before you’ve heard back from another agent whom you feel would be a better fit for your manuscript.

Does that loud choking sound I just heard mean that some of you weren’t aware that a writer doesn’t need to drop everything and respond to a request for an exclusive immediately? It’s not as though the request is going to expire five days hence; unless an agent actually asked you to overnight your manuscript (rare), she’s probably not expecting it right away. In the first heat of excitement, it’s tempting to get pages out the door that very day, but again, it might not be in your book’s best interest.

Besides, if you attach your manuscript as a Word attachment to your same-hour reply to that nice e-mail from Millicent, when will you have time to review your submission IN ITS ENTIRETY, IN HARD COPY, and OUT LOUD, to catch any previously-missed typos or rejection triggers?

Like it or not, timing submissions is a matter of strategy. If you are already murmuring, “Yes, by Jove: I want to query and submit in a manner that maximizes the probability to be fielding several offers at once!”, then I suggest you consider two issues very carefully before you decide which agents to approach first. Fair warning — before you can answer either, you’re going to need to do a little research.

(1) If an agency has an exclusives-only policy, should it be near the top of my query list, potentially forcing me to stop my submission process cold until they get back to me? Or are there agents who permit simultaneous submissions that I could approach all at once before I queried the exclusive-only agency?

(2) Is there an agent on this list to whom I would be OVERJOYED to grant an exclusive, should she happen to request it after seeing my query or hearing my pitch, or would I be equally happy with any of these agents? If it’s the former, should I approach that agent right off the bat, before sending out queries to any exclusives-only agents on the list?

And the disgruntled murmur afresh: “Okay, Anne, I get it: an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. But where does this leave Hortense and the many, many other writers out there who have granted exclusives to the first agent who asked, only to find themselves chafing under the agreement down the line, when other agents asked to see the manuscript? Can’t you dole out just a few ounces of cure?”

Again, it depends: why did the agent asked for the exclusive in the first place, and how long it has been since the writer granted it?

I know, I know: I’m asking a lot of questions, but there’s a lot to consider here. That’s why I’m hoping that most of you are reading this before you find yourself in Hortense’s position. Resting uncomfortably within the horns of a dilemma is seldom conducive to thoughtful pondering. Keep up the good work!

Posted on August 13, 2012January 19, 2017 - 3 Comments on So you’ve pitched successfully — now what? Part VII: just what am I getting myself into when I agree to an exclusive?

So you’ve pitched successfully — now what? Part VII: just what am I getting myself into when I agree to an exclusive?

1885-proposal-caricature

Oh, what a week it has been, campers! Or, rather, what a six days. I’ll spare you the sordid details of the life editorial. Suffice it to say that last Saturday was my seventh anniversary as a blogger, and I was simply too exhausted to post anything even slightly celebratory. So, belatedly:

Woo hoo!

Enough frivolity; back to the question at hand. Last time, before life so rudely interrupted me, I was deep in the throes of discussing the thorny issue of whether or not it is ever to a conference pitcher or querier’s advantage to grant an exclusive — or, to be a trifle less jargon-y about it, whether a writer lucky enough to receive more than one request for manuscript pages should say yes to the one agent or editor that asks, usually quite nicely, if s/he may read the book before any other pro does.

While the overwhelming majority of aspiring writers will respond to such a request with an enthusiastic chorus of, “By all of the great heavenly muses, YES! If I overnight it to you, will that be soon enough to get started?”, what happens if the requester hasn’t gotten back to the writer by the time another request for pages arrives? Oh, it could happen, if the writer has been serious enough about landing an agent to send out more than one query at a time. That same writer might well have send out requested materials to Agents B and C before Agent A is delighted enough with the query to ask for an exclusive peek.

Then, too, sometimes requests for pages come in clumps. If a conference-attending writer really hustles, it’s entirely possible that she will walk away from those pitch sessions with more than one request. Or if an e-querier sends out a barrage of missives all at once, he might well receive several positive responses within a few days. If nobody asks for an exclusive, no problem: they can just send them all out simultaneously. But what if one of those agents wants to be the only one looking at it?

While we’re tossing around rhetorical questions, what is the writer to tell all of those other agents in the meantime? And, at the risk of terrifying you, may I also inquire what happens if the exclusive-requester doesn’t get back to the writer in a timely manner?

I wish we writers talked about these eventualities more amongst ourselves, because none of these are particularly uncommon dilemmas for submitters to face. Often, though, writers who find themselves in these awkward positions are too embarrassed to discuss them. Because I know from experience — seven years of it, to be precise — that this is one of the places those embarrassed writers tend to sneak in the dark of night, frantic for answers, let’s pause for a moment to define our terms.

An exclusive submission entails the writer’s agreeing to allow an agent or editor time to consider representing a particular manuscript before any other publishing professionals read it. Under an exclusivity agreement, both the pro and the writer agree to abide by certain rules:

(a) Only that agent or editor will have an opportunity to read the requested materials;

(b) no other agent or editor is currently considering it;

(c) the writer will not submit it anywhere else while the agent or editor is considering it;

(d) in return for these significant advantages (which, after all, prevent the writer from pursuing other opportunities), the agent or editor will make a legitimate effort to read and decide whether or not to offer representation within a specified time period, but

(e) if no time restriction is specified in advance, or if that agency or editor works someplace with an exclusives-only policy, the manuscript may simply be considered on precisely the same time scale as every other requested.

This serious business, folks, and therefore probably not the kind of thing to which a savvy writer would, upon mature consideration, grant lightly. Say, in the midst of an extended fit of excited giggling because a REAL, LIVE AGENT has asked to see one’s work. At that particular moment, the other seventeen queries one has out and about might slip one’s mind.

Especially if, as is often the case, the request for an exclusive is a trifle vague. (“I’d like an exclusive on this, Minette,” is often the extent of it.) In the throes of delight, the impulse to scream “YES!” has occasionally been known to overcome the completely rational urge to ask, “Excuse me, but what precisely would that mean for me?”

It’s also often the case that aspiring writers, especially first-time pitchers, will just assume that any request for pages must necessarily be a request for an exclusive. Or they act as if it was, in order to save themselves the trouble, stress, and, let’s face it, the emotional risk of sending out more than one submission. (Hey, this is tiring stuff.)

To minimize confusion, I want to make absolutely certain that each and every querier and submitter out there understands four things about exclusives — no, make that five:

(1) A request for an exclusive is always explicit. There is no such thing as an implied exclusivity request: the agent or editor will tell you point-blank that is what he wants.

(2) Some agencies will accept only exclusive submissions, so it’s worth your while to check an agent’s website or listing in one of the standard agency guides before querying or pitching.

(3) As flattering as a request for an exclusive is to an aspiring writer, granting it is optional.

(4) Since by definition, a writer cannot submit to other agents during the exclusive period — yes, even if the writer queried the others first — it’s ALWAYS a good idea to set a time limit.

(5) Since granting it limits the writer’s options, it’s best reserved for situations where one’s top-choice agents are interested in the book.

Why limit it to your favorite picks? Try to think of granting an exclusive as if you were applying for early admission to an Ivy League school: if the school of your dreams lets you in, you’re not going to want to apply to other universities, right? By applying early, you are saying that you will accept their offer of admission, and the school can add you to its roster of new students without having to worry that you’re going to go to another school instead.

It’s a win/win, in other words. And I should know, because once I got into Harvard early, I had a whale of a good time going to group interviews with my high school friends and saying, “Wow, that’s an interesting question, Mr. Alumnus. Allow me to turn that question into an opportunity to discuss the merits of Kathleen here.”

Oh, you thought I woke up one bright day seven years ago and suddenly became public-spirited? I regard a broad range of endeavor as team sports.

If the best agent in the known universe for your type of writing asks for an exclusive, you might be well advised to say yes. But if you have any doubt in your mind about whether Harvard really is a better school for your intended studies than Yale, Columbia, or Berkeley — to mix my metaphors again — you might want to apply to all of them at the same time, so you may decide between those that do admit you.

To put it another way, if you are asked for an exclusive because your work is sought-after, it is up to you whether you would prefer to go steady right off the bat or date around a little. Got it?

If not, I can keep coming up with parallels all day, I assure you. Don’t make me delve into my vast store of zoology metaphors.

Do all of those averted eyes mean that you have no intention of saying no to a REAL, LIVE AGENT that wants to SEE YOUR WORK? Or merely that you’re hoping desperately that the muses have abruptly decided to assign one of their number to make sure that of those 17 agents you have approached, the only one that prefers exclusive submissions contacts you first, swears to get back to you within 48 hours, and then offers to sign you in 36?

Well, I wish the best for you, so I hope it’s the latter, too, but let’s assume for the moment that at least one writer out there falls into the former category. If you say yes, lone intender, set a reasonable time limit on it, so you don’t keep your book off the market too long. This prudent step will save you from the unfortunately common dilemma of the writer who granted an exclusive a year ago and still hasn’t heard back.

Yes, in response to that gigantic collective gasp I just heard out there: one does hear rumors of agents who ask for exclusives, then hold onto the manuscript for months on end. Or even — brace yourself — a year or two. I can neither confirm nor deny this, of course.

All I can confirm is that since the economic downturn began, such rumors have escalated astronomically.

Set a time limit, politely. Three months is ample.

And no, turning it into three weeks will almost certainly not get your manuscript read any faster. This is no time to be unreasonable in your expectations.

No need to turn asking for the time limit into an experiment in negotiation, either: simply include a sentence in your submission’s cover letter along the lines of I am delighted to give you an exclusive look at my manuscript, as you requested, for the next three months.

Simple, direct — and trust me, if the agent or editor has a problem with the time you’ve specified, s/he will contact you to ask for more.

Of course, protecting your ability to market your work isn’t always that simple: negotiation is not possible with the other type of exclusive request, the kind that emerges from an agency that only reviews manuscripts exclusively. The writer is not offered a choice in the matter. Consequently, a request for an exclusive from these folks is not so much a compliment to one’s work (over and above the sheer desire to read some of it, that is) as a way of doing business.

In essence, exclusive-only agencies are saying to writers, “Look, since you chose to approach us, we assume that you have already done your homework about what we represent — and believe us, we would not ask to see your manuscript if we didn’t represent that kind of writing. So we expect you to say yes right away if we make you an offer. Now squeal with delight and hand over the pages.”

Noticing a homework theme in all of these unspoken assumptions? Good. Let me pull out the bullhorn to reiterate: because agents tend to assume that any serious writer would take the time to learn how the publishing industry does and doesn’t work, submitters that don’t do their homework are significantly more likely to get rejected than those who do.

Oh, did some of you want to ask a question? Here, allow me to lower my bullhorn.
“But Anne,” the recently-deafened cry, “I don’t get it. Why might an exclusives-only submissions policy be advantageous for an agency to embrace?”

Well, for one thing, it prevents them from ever having to experience the fear associated with the first type of exclusive request. If you send them pages, they may safely assume that you won’t be e-mailing them a week later to say, “Um, Agent Q has just made me an offer, slowpoke. I still would like to consider you, so could you drop everything else you might have intended to do for the foreseeable future and finish reading my manuscript so you can give me an answer? As in by the end of the week?”

Okay, so you wouldn’t really be that rude. (PLEASE tell me you wouldn’t be that rude.) But agents who don’t require exclusive submissions do receive these types of e-mails fairly often: nervous writers often assume, mistakenly, that they should be sending agents who have their manuscripts constant status updates, if not pleading or outright ultimata. And agents hate the kind of missive mentioned in the last paragraph, because nobody, but nobody, reads faster than an agent who has just heard that the author of the manuscript that’s been propping up his wobbly coffee table is fielding multiple offers.

Agencies who demand exclusivity are, by definition, unlikely to find themselves in an Oh, my God, I have to read this 400-page novel by tomorrow! situation. After the third or fourth panicked all-nighter, exclusives might start to look like a pretty good policy.

Increased speed is the usual response to multiple offers, note. Since people who work in agencies are perfectly well aware that turn-around times have been expanding exponentially of late, the mere fact that other agents are considering a manuscript isn’t likely to affect its place in the reading queue at all.

What does the writer get in return for agreeing not to submit to others for the time being? Not a heck of a lot, typically, unless the agency in question is in fact the best place for her work and she would unquestionably sign with them if they offered representation. But if one wants to submit to such an agency, one needs to follow its rules.

Happily, agencies that maintain this requirement tend to be far from quiet about it. Their agents will trumpet the fact from the conference dais. Requires exclusive submissions or even the relatively rare will accept only exclusive queries will appear upon their websites, in their listings in standard agency guides, and on their form-letter replies requesting your first 50 pages.

(Yes, in response to that shocked wail your psyche just sent flying in my general direction: positive responses are often form letters, too, even when they arrive in e-mail form. I sympathize with your dismay.)

If exclusives-only agencies had company T-shirts, in short, there would probably be an asterisk after the company’s name and a footnote on the back about not accepting simultaneous submissions. If they’re serious about the policy, they’re serious about it, and trying to shimmy around such a policy will only get a writer into trouble.

Do I feel some of you tensing up again? Relax — agencies with this requirement are not very common.

Why? It limits their querying pool. Because they require their potential clients to bring their often protracted agent search to a screeching halt while the submission is under consideration, such agencies are, in the long run, more time-consuming for a writer to deal with than others. As a result, many ambitious aspiring writers, cautious about committing their time, will avoid querying agencies with this policy.

Which, again, is a matter of personal choice. Or it would be, if you happened to notice before you queried that the agency in question had this policy.

Do check their T-shirts in advance, though, because I assure you, no one concerned is going to have any sympathy for a writer complaining about feeling trapped in an exclusive. They’ll just assume that she didn’t do her homework.

Next time, I shall discuss other common manifestations of the exclusivity dilemma. For now, I’m simply going to blow out the candle that’s been burning in my seven-year celebration cake and call it a night. Keep up the good work!

Posted on August 7, 2012January 19, 2017 - No Comments on So you’ve pitched successfully — now what? Part VI: torn between two requests for pages, feeling like a fool. Is submitting to both of you breaking all the rules?

So you’ve pitched successfully — now what? Part VI: torn between two requests for pages, feeling like a fool. Is submitting to both of you breaking all the rules?

The short answer, under ordinary circumstances, is no. The slightly longer answer, and certainly the most common response to any publishing-related question, is it depends.

Perhaps it’s wrong of me on a plotting level to have given away the punch line so soon, but honestly, we’re right in the thick of writers’ conference season. Why, this coming weekend will see one of the largest in my part of the country. So pardon me, please, if I structure today’s post so it immediately addresses the fears of would-be and just-succeeded conference pitchers.

How do I know that multiple submissions and exclusives will be on these pitchers’ minds, as well as troubling the thoughts of the multitudes of querying writers determined to send out queries by Labor Day? Experience, mostly: as of Saturday, I shall have been the go-to person for writers’ anxiety for seven long, eventful years. And for every single conference season throughout those years, successful pitchers and queriers have come creeping to me in the dark of night with a terrified question: what have I done, and how may I fix it?

Oh, you think that’s an exaggeration, do you? Let me put it this way: for the last few years, I have asked these panicked persons — after I have soothed their heated brows, of course — to give me suggestions for what category title, if any, would most easily have caught their eye on the archive list at the height of their chagrin. Without exception, every single respondent has suggested that I include the word Help!

Usually with several exclamation points. I have some reason to believe, then, that there’s some ambient confusion out there about when it is and is not okay to submit a manuscript to several agents or editor at a time. And, perhaps even more pertinent to the midnight terrors haunting many a pitcher, how should a writer lucky enough to walk away from a conference with more than one request for pages decide which agent or editor to submit to first?

This time, the short answer is it depends. And the long answer is a question: what about these particular requests make you believe you have to rank them?

If you’re like most writers gearing up to submit, the answer to the long answer probably runs a little something like this: well, obviously, I shouldn’t submit to more than one agent at a time — that would be rude. Or is that I’ve heard that agents consider it rude? Anyway, I wouldn’t want to run the risk of offending anyone. Besides, if I submit only to the one I liked better — which was that again? — I don’t have to come up with a graceful way to say no to the other one. And it’s less work for me: if the first one says yes, I don’t have to go to the trouble of making up another submission packet. But if I do that, must I wait for the first to say no before I send out pages to the second? What if the first never gets back to me? Or what if the first doesn’t get back to me until after I’ve already submitted to the second, and then yells at me because he didn’t want me to show the book to anyone else? And what if…

Does that logic loop sound familiar? If so, the first thing to do is CALM DOWN. No one can whip up a worst-case scenario better than a writer, but in the vast majority of multiple submissions, no problems arise whatsoever.

You’d never know that, however, from the welter of dire warnings and fourth-hand horror stories floating around out there, would you? That miasma of anxiety tends to compound the confusion for many writers, alas: surely, I don’t have to tell any of you reading that there’s an awful lot of querying and submission advice out there, much of it contradictory. And as some of may have noted with alarm, an awful lot of the common wisdom about querying and submission just isn’t true, or at any rate, just isn’t true anymore.

How, then, is someone brand-new to the process supposed to figure out what to do?

Frequently, aspiring writers attempt to resolve this dilemma by turning to someone like me — often, unfortunately, after they’ve inadvertently stumbled into an industry faux pas. (Which is, in case those of you searching frantically through the archives have been wondering, why I always provide such extensive explanations for everything I advise here: since so many of my readers are considering quite a bit of competing information — and frequently doing it in a moment when they are already feeling overwhelmed — I believe that it’s as important that you know why I’m suggesting something as to understand how to implement the suggestion. I never, ever want any of my readers to do what I say just because I say so. So there.)

Some of the most heart-rending perennial problems are the result of believing the common wisdom and applying it to every agent one might ever want to approach, rather than carefully reading each agency’s submission guidelines and treating each query/submission situation as unique. Sometimes, though, even that level of hedging doesn’t prevent a writer from falling into a ditch.

Witness, for instance, the situation into which Virginia, a long-time member of the Author! Author! community, innocently tumbled:

Help! I submitted only two queries to two agents. One got back to me quickly and did ask for exclusive right to review. A few days after I agreed to this, the second agent replied and asked for pages. I don’t want to violate my agreement, but how do I tell the second agent I’m really happy she wants to see more but she has to wait?

Successful queriers and pitchers end up in this kind of dilemma all the time, often without understanding how they ended up there or why they’re stressed out about what was presumably the outcome they were seeking when they approached multiple agents simultaneously: more than one agent interested in reading their work. An exclusive is always a good thing, they reason nervously, a sign that an agent was unusually eager to see a queried or pitched book, and thus decided to bypass her usual method of requesting manuscripts.

Not always, no. But it depends.

Sometimes, a request for an exclusive genuinely is the result of an agent’s being so excited by a query or pitch (especially if that book has just won a contest) that she’s afraid that another agent will snap it up first. Far more frequently, though, a surprise request for an exclusive is the natural and should-have-been-expected outcome when a writer approaches and agent working at an agency that has an exclusives-only policy.

I hear some uncharitable souls snicker, but most queriers don’t read each individual agency’s submission guidelines before sending out those letters. At least the first time around, aspiring writers generally assume that all agencies are the same. And very few pitchers do much research on the agents and editors they plan to approach at conferences, beyond reading the blurbs in the conference brochure.

So if you find yourself walking uncomfortably in Virginia’s shoes, don’t worry. You’re certainly not the only aspiring writer that’s ever slipped on those moccasins. Heck, you’re not the only one to try to trudge a mile in them today.

Especially likely to find themselves thrashing around in this dilemma: successful pitchers and queriers who do what virtually every aspiring writer asked to submit materials does — and what Virginia probably did here: sending out pages within hours of receiving the request. Which those of you who have been following this series know better than to do, right?

It’s a completely understandable faux pas, however, especially if the request arises from a query. Overjoyed at what they assume (in this case, wrongly) will be the only interest their queries will generate, many multiply-querying writers don’t pause to consider that multiple requests for manuscripts are always a possible outcome while sending out simultaneous queries.

Thus, it follows as night the day, so is a situation where one of those agents requests an exclusive. And it follows as day the night that an exclusive request is also a possibility when pitching at a conference.

This is why, in case any of you inveterate conference-goers have been curious, agents, editors, and those of us who teach classes on marketing writing invariably sigh when an aspiring writer raises his hand to ask some form of this particular question — and it’s not for the reason that other aspiring writers will sigh at it. (The latter usually sigh because wish they had this problem, and who could blame them?) The pros will sigh because they’re thinking, Okay, did this writer just not do his homework on the agents he approached? Or is he asking me to tell him that he can blithely break the commitment he’s made to Agent #1? Does this writer seriously believe all agents are in league together, that I would be able to grant permission to insult one of my competitors?

That’s why everyone else will sigh. I, however, sigh because my thought process runs like this: okay, I have to assume that the questioner is someone who hasn’t read any of my blog posts on querying or submission, as much as that possibility pains me to consider. But since I have a small army of explicitly-named categories on my archive list — conveniently located at the bottom right-hand side of my website’s main page, including such topics as EXCLUSIVES AND MULTIPLE SUBMISSION, EXCLUSIVES TO AGENTS, SIMULTANEOUS SUBMISSIONS, and WHAT IF MORE THAN ONE AGENT ASKS TO SEE MY MANUSCRIPT? — directly aimed at answering this question, and a battalion more that deal with it within the larger context of submission (under provocative headings like AFTER YOU RECEIVE A REQUEST FOR PAGES, AFTER YOU SUBMIT, HOW LONG BEFORE THE REQUEST FOR PAGES EXPIRES? HOW SOON MUST I SEND REQUESTED MATERIALS? INDUSTRY ETIQUETTE, IS IT OKAY TO SUBMIT TO SEVERAL AGENTS AT ONCE? and REQUESTED MATERIALS), as well as a dramatically-reenacted scenario directly related to this issue in the Industry Etiquette series. Yet I have to assume that the questioner is facing a situation that I have managed to overlook addressing in any of these posts. So I shall eschew the temptation just to send the questioner to any or all of those categories, try to understand how and why this situation is unique, and answer the darned question for the 1,477th time.”

Yes, I can think with that much specificity in mid-sigh, thank you very much. It’s just one of my many, many talents.

All that being said — or at any rate thought loudly — it is undoubtedly true that more writers than ever before seem to be finding themselves enmeshed in Virginia’s dilemma. Or simply unsure about whether it’s okay to submit to more than one agent at once. Quite a bit of the common wisdom out there, after all, dictates that writers should wait to hear back on one submission before sending out the next.

The short answer to that: poppycock! The long answer — and I sincerely hope that by now you saw this coming — is it depends.

On what? On the individual agency’s policies, of course, as well as how the agent in question phrased the request for pages.

In an environment where submission volumes are so high that even a requested full manuscript may well sit on a corner of an agent’s desk for a year or more — and that’s after Millicent has already decided she liked it — just presuming that any agent would prefer to be the only one considering a manuscript could add years to the submission process. If an agency has a no-reply-if-the-reply-will-be-no policy, stated or unstated, the hapless submitter can have no idea whether silence means (a) no, (b) the manuscript got lost in transit, (c) the manuscript got lost at the agency, or (d) the agent just hasn’t had time to read it yet.

Well might you turn pale. As agencies have been cutting their staffs over the last few years (and aspiring writers who wouldn’t have had time to query or submit before the economic downturn have been digging old manuscripts out of bottom desk drawers), turn-around times have gotten demonstrably longer. So has the practice of not informing a submitter if the answer is no — or even hanging on to a manuscript someone at the agency likes in the hope that market conditions will improve for that type of book.

The result: more and more submitters who just don’t know whether they are in a position to grant an exclusive to another agent or not. How could they, when they have heard that writers should never bug agents while they are considering manuscripts?

All of which is to say: it actually isn’t fair to leap to the conclusion that if aspiring writers read agents’ websites and agency guide listings more thoroughly, they would never end up in this situation. Sometimes, an exclusive request does come out of a genuinely blue sky, whacking a conscientious multiple querier or submitter right in the noggin.

How is that possible? Amazingly often, the writer simply does not know that exclusivity is a possibility until an agent asks for it. Unless an agency has an exclusives-only policy (and some do; check), the prospect generally will not be mentioned in its submission guidelines.

Then, too, the request for an exclusive is seldom formulated in a manner that informs a writer not already aware of the fact that she can say no. Or that she can grant it at a later date. Or put a time limit on the exclusive, if she agrees to it at all.

All of these things are perfectly legitimate responses to an exclusivity request, incidentally. But it depends on the actual content of that request; they vary more than one might think.

I can, however, rule out a couple of possibilities. First, as we discussed earlier in this series, there is no such thing as an implied request for an exclusive; such requests are always directly stated. So unless an agent or editor specifically asked for an exclusive peek at all or part of a manuscript or the agency has a clearly-posted exclusives-only policy on its website, a writer does not need to worry at all about offending Agent A by submitting simultaneously submitting the same manuscript to Agent B.

Yes, really. Just mention in your cover letters to each that another agent is looking at it, and you should be fine.

Would you fling the nearest portable object in my general direction, though, if I swiftly added that even this sometimes depends upon factors beyond the writer’s knowledge and control? Back in my querying days, I blithely sent off requested materials to a seventh agent, while six were already considering it. That was completely ethical: all seven’s agencies websites, communications with me, and listings in the standard agency guides failed to mention any exclusives-only policies. Nor did #7′s request for the manuscript specify that he wanted an exclusive. That being the case, I simply told him, as I had an ethical obligation to do, that he was not the only agent considering it.

You can see this coming, can’t you?

I must admit, I didn’t — his announcement that his agency never considered multiple submissions left me pretty gobsmacked. But once he had expressed that preference, I had to abide by his rules, even though they were late-breaking news: I had to choose whether to e-mail him back to say I accepted his terms, and would be telling Nos. 1-6 that my manuscript was no longer available, or to apologize for not being aware of what I could not possibly have known and withdraw my submission to him. I chose the latter, and lived to submit another day.

I sense some of you seething, do I not? “But Anne!” the hot-blooded among you cry, and I’m grateful for your ire on my behalf. “That wasn’t fair! Why didn’t you insist that he abide by what you thought were the original terms of the submission?”

Because, passionate ones, as Thomas Hobbes once so rightly observed, rights are the ability to enforce them. Arguing with an agent about his own submission policies is always a losing proposition for a writer.

Which leaves me to the second point a writer should consider before granting an exclusive: before you say yes, make sure you understand its terms, as well as what granting it would mean for you. Read that request very, very carefully, as well as the agency’s website. Is the exclusive open-ended, for instance, or is the agent asking for you to hold off on submitting elsewhere for a particular period of time? If it doesn’t specify an end date — and most exclusive requests don’t — would you feel comfortable setting the request aside for a few months while you responded to any other agents that had already expressed interest. Or if it took three months to get an answer from an agent that already had the manuscript?

And, while you’re at it, are you absolutely positive that the requester is asking for an exclusive? Sometimes, in the heat of excitement at hearing a yes, a successful querier — or, even more commonly, a successful pitcher — will slightly misinterpret what he’s being asked to do.

Third, be aware that a request for an exclusive is in fact a request, not a command. Even if a writer does receive one or more requests for an exclusive, she’s not under any obligation to grant it — nor does she need to agree to it right away. That’s vital to know going in, because as soon as the writer has agreed to an exclusive, she does in fact have to honor it. So it’s in the writer’s best interest to give the matter some thought.

Think about it: if Virginia had pondered Agent A’s request for a week or two, wouldn’t she have found herself in a much, much happier dilemma when Agent B’s epistle arrived? Then, she would merely have had to decide to which she wanted to submit first, the one that wanted the exclusive or the one that didn’t.

What would have been the right answer here, you ask with bated breath? Easy: it depends.

Upon what? Feel free to sing along: if Agent A’s agency’s had a posted exclusives-only submission policy, he had a right to expect Virginia to be aware of it before she queried, and thus to believe that by querying him, she was agreeing to that condition. If an agency will only accept solo submissions, that’s that: it’s not as though she could negotiate an exception in her case.

It would also depend upon whether the agent put a time limit on the request. It’s rare that an agent or editor puts a start date deadline in an exclusive request (they have other manuscripts waiting on their desks, after all), but they do occasionally specify how long they expect the exclusive to be.

Given Virginia’s surprise, though, my guess is that neither of these conditions applied. That means, ethically, she could go either way.

The only thing she could not legitimately do was submit to both A and B after A said he would read it only as an exclusive. That does not necessarily mean, however, that if she wanted to submit to A first, she could not suggest a time limit on the exclusive, so enable her to take advantage of B’s interest if A decided to pass.

And a thousand jaws hit the floor. Yes, yes, I know: the very idea of the writer’s saying, “Yes, Agent A, I would love to grant you a three-month exclusive — here’s the manuscript!” would seem to run counter to the idea that the requester gets to set the terms of the exclusive. But in Virginia’s case, I happen to know (my spies are everywhere) that Agent A is of the ilk that does not habitually specify an end date for an exclusive. So proposing one would not constitute arguing with him; it would merely be telling him how long she believes she is agreeing to hold off on sending it elsewhere.

He can always make a counterproposal, after all. Or ask for more time at the end of those three months. It’s a reasonable length of time, though, so he probably won’t say no — as he would, in all likelihood, if she set the time at something that would require him to rearrange his schedule to accommodate, like three weeks.

Why so glum? Was it something I said? “Three months?” the impatient groan. “To me, three weeks sounds like a long time to hear back! If the agent is interested enough to request an exclusive, why shouldn’t I expect a rapid reply?”

Ah, that’s a common misconception. 99.999% of the time, what an aspiring writer asked for an exclusive thinks the agent is saying is not, “Okay, this sounds interesting and marketable, but I don’t want to have to rush to beat competing agents in reading the manuscript. Please remove the necessity of my having to hurry by agreeing not to show it to anyone else until I’ve gotten back to you.”

Which is, by the way, what a request for exclusivity means, at base. Rather deflating to think of it that way, isn’t it? It is, however, realistic.

By contrast, what 99.999% of aspiring writers in this situation hear is “Oh, my God — this is the most exciting book premise/query/pitch I’ve ever heard. I’m almost positive that I want to represent it, even though I have not yet read a word of the manuscript or book proposal. Because my marrow is thrilled to an extent unprecedented in my professional experience, I shall toss all of my usual submission expectations and procedures out the nearest window. If you grant my request for an exclusive, I’m going to clear my schedule so I may delve into this submission the nanosecond it arrives in my office. May I have it today — or, at the very latest, tomorrow — so I can stop holding my breath until it arrives?”

And then the giddy submitter is astonished when weeks or months pass before the agent makes a decision, precisely as if there had been no exclusive involved. The only difference, from the writer’s point of view, is that he was honor-bound not to approach other agents until he heard back.

Pardon my asking, but what precisely did the writer gain by granting that exclusive? Or by not politely attempting to place a time limit upon it?

That’s not to say, of course, that I’m unsympathetic to the impulse not to look that gift horse in the mouth. Many, if not most, aspiring writers confuse initial interest with a commitment — why would an agent ask to see a manuscript exclusively, they reason, unless they already thought they might want to sign the author?

A fair enough question, but I’m not sure you’re going to like the answer: typically, an agent won’t ask for an exclusive (or to see the manuscript, for that matter) unless she thinks representing it as a possibility; it is a genuine compliment. However, since agents who ask for exclusives seldom make the request of only one writer at a time, it’s not very prudent for a writer to presume that his will be the only exclusive on the agent’s desk.

If that last bit made your stomach drop to somewhere around your knees, please don’t feel blue, or even slightly mauve. The vast majority of writers who have ever been asked for an exclusive peek at their work were under laboring under the same presumption. The temptation to believe the request means more than it actually does is incalculable. The result, unfortunately, is that all too often, aspiring writers agree to an exclusive without understanding what it actually will entail — and usually are either too excited or too shy to ask follow-up questions before they pack off those requested materials.

For the benefit of those overjoyed and/or excited souls, I’m going to invest some blog space into going over what granting that solo peek will and will not entail.

Within the context of submission, an exclusive involves a writer agreeing to allow an agent a specific amount of time to consider representing a particular manuscript, during which no other agent will be reviewing it. In practice, both the agent and the writer agree to abide by certain rules:

(a) Only that agent will have an opportunity to read the requested materials;

(b) no other agent is already looking at it;

(c) the writer will not submit it anywhere else;

(d) in return for these significant advantages (which, after all, pull the manuscript out of competition with other agents), the agent will make a legitimate effort to read and decide whether or not to offer representation within a specified time period, but

(e) if no time restriction is specified in advance, or if the agent always requests exclusives, the manuscript may simply be considered on precisely the same time scale as every other requested by the agency.

Is everyone clear on the rules? Be honest, now: they differ quite a bit from what you were expecting, don’t they?

Now that we know what Virginia agreed to do in granting an exclusive to Agent A, as well as what her options would have been had she received Agent B’s request before she had sent off the first submission, let’s take a gander what she should do about the situation she actually faced. (You knew I would get to it eventually, right?)

The answer is, as you have probably guessed, it depends. If she wants to play by the rules — and she should, always — her choices are three.

If she specified a time limit on the exclusive when she granted the exclusive to Agent A the answer is very simple: if less than that amount of time has passed, don’t send the manuscript to anyone else until it has. On the day after the exclusive has elapsed, she is free to submit to other agents.

What is she to tell Agent B in the interim? Nothing, if the agreed-upon length of the exclusive is reasonable — say, between three and six months.

Stop choking. Agencies often have monumental backlogs, and it’s not uncommon for agents and editors to read promising manuscripts at home, in their spare time.

And no, Virginia, waiting that long before submitting requested materials to B will not seem strange. Agents are perfectly used to writers taking some time to revise. B probably wouldn’t blink twice if she didn’t get back to him before then.

Remember, it’s not as though an agent who requests materials sits there, twiddling his thumbs, until he receives it. He’s got a lot of manuscripts already sitting on his desk — and piled on the floor, and threatening to tumble of his file cabinet, and waiting in Millicent’s cubicle…

Besides, what would Virginia gain by telling him she’d already promised an exclusive to another agent, other than implicitly informing him that she had already decided that if Agent A offered representation, she would take it? How exactly would that win her Brownie points with B? Or, indeed, help her at all?

In practice, all waiting on fulfilling the second request means is that Virginia will have an attractive alternative if A decides to pass on the manuscript. That’s bad because…?

Oh, wait: it isn’t. Actually, it’s an ideal situation for a just-rejected submitter to find herself occupying. Way to go, Virginia!

Worrying about what might happen to Virginia if Agent A doesn’t get back to her within the specified time frame? Relax; she still has several pretty good options: one completely above-board, one right on the board, and the last slightly under it.

First, the high road: a week or two after the agreed-upon exclusive expires, Virginia could send Agent A a courteous e-mail (not a call), reminding him that the exclusive has elapsed. Would A like more time to consider the manuscript solo, or should Virginia send the manuscript out to the other agents who have requested it?

Naturally, if he selects the latter, she would be delighted to have him continue to consider the manuscript also. That’s fortunate, because I can already tell you the answer will be the former, if A has not yet had a chance to read it.

It’s also quite possible, though, that the response to this charming little missive will be silence. That might mean that Agent A is no longer interested, but it might also mean that he intended to answer and forgot. Or that he honestly believes he can get to the manuscript before another agent has a chance to make an offer. For all of these reasons, she should not take A’s silence as an invitation to load him with recriminations about not getting back to her.

Which, unfortunately, is what submitters in this situation usually do. It’s wasted effort: if the answer was no, jumping up and down to try to regain the agent’s attention won’t change that; if the agent hasn’t had a chance to read it yet, reproaches will seldom move a manuscript up in a reading queue.

So what is Virginia to do? Well, ethically, she is no longer bound by that exclusive. She should presume the answer was no, elevate her noble chin — and send out that submission to Agent B without contacting A again.

That’s the high road. The writer doesn’t achieve much by taking it, usually, other than possibly an extension of the exclusive, but you must admit, it’s classy. The level road is cosmetically similar, but frees the writer more.

It runs something like this: a week or two after the exclusive has elapsed, Virginia could write an e-mail to Agent A, informing him courteously and without complaint (again, harder than it sounds) that since the agreed-upon period of exclusivity has passed, she’s going to start sending out requested materials to other agents. Then she should actually do it, informing Agent B in her cover letter that another agent is also considering the work.

That way, she gets what she wants — the ability to continue to market her work — while not violating her agreement with Agent A and being honest with Agent B. All she is doing is being up front about abiding by the terms of the exclusive.

Might she receive a hasty e-mail from A, asking for more time? Possibly. If so, she can always agree not to accept an offer from another agent until after some specified date. If she likes.

The slightly subterranean third option would be not to send an e-mail at all, but merely wait until the exclusive has lapsed to send out the manuscript to Agent B. She should, of course, inform B that there’s also another agent reading it. I don’t favor this option, personally, because despite the fact that Virginia would be perfectly within her rights to pursue it — A is the one who breached the agreement here — because if Agent A does eventually decide to make an offer, Virginia will be left in a rather awkward position.

Enviable, of course, but still a bit uncomfortable. I’d stick to one of the higher roads — unless, of course, after months of waiting, Virginia isn’t certain that she can resist complaining about the passage of time. It’s not in her interest to pick a fight, after all.

The shortness of the space between here and the bottom of this post is making some of you nervous, isn’t it? “But Anne,” you quaver, shifting in your desk chairs, “what happens if Virginia agreed to an unlimited exclusive, and she hasn’t heard back? That seems like the most complicated option of all, so I’m really, really hoping that you’re not planning to trot out that annoying it depends line again.”

Well, her options do depend, actually, on quite a number of things, but you’re quite right that discussing the perils and escape hatches of the unlimited exclusive is too complex to toss off in just a few paragraphs. I shall deal with it in depth next time.

For now, suffice it to say that as exciting as a request for an exclusive may be, it is not a gift horse to clamber upon without some pretty thorough examination of its dentistry. Before you saddle it — and yourself — take the time to consider the implications. And, of course, keep up the good work!

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    • How are book manuscripts different from published books?
    • If you read only one post on Author! Author — this should be it
    • If you read only one post on querying — this should be it
    • New Year's resolutions on writing
    • Query letters for beginners
    • The manuscript formatting rules
    • What is conference pitching and why would I want to do it?
    • What should my submission look like?
    • Why are Author! Author! posts so long?
    • Why are the explanations here at Author! Author! so extensive?
    • Why are there so many different sets of writing rules online?
    • Why is there so much conflicting advice about queries?
    • Why shouldn't I just query every agent I can find?
    • Why you might not want to send out requested pages immediately after a successful pitch
    • Why you should be making regular backups of your writing
    • Why you should not submit your manuscript the second after you finish drafting it
  • Academic writing
  • Adding complexity to a plot
  • Advances and how they do (and don't) work
    • Advances
    • Is it okay to ask agents at conferences how much of an advance a book like mine might garner?
    • May I reasonably expect my advance to permit me to take time off work to promote my book?
    • May I reasonably expect the advance on my first book to be large enough to enable me to quit my day job and write full time?
  • After you've received a request for pages as an exclusive
  • After…
    • After a publisher has decided to publish your book
    • After an agent has said no
    • After an agent makes an offer
    • After an agent or editor has asked for an exclusive look at your work
    • After an editor decides to acquire a book
    • After you have published the first book in a series
    • After you have published your first book — what then?
    • After you have queried or pitched
    • After you land a publisher
    • After you land an agent
    • After you receive a request for pages
    • After you submit
    • After you've been rejected
    • After you've finishing writing your first draft
    • After you've made a successful pitch
    • After you've made an unsuccessful pitch
    • Getting that submission out the door
    • Help! I've granted an agent an exclusive and another agent just asked to see pages!
    • Time between sale & publication
    • What happens after a memoirist sells a book proposal
    • What happens when a writer sends out a manuscript too soon
    • What if more than one agent asks to see my manuscript?
    • What NOT to say to an agent interested in your work
    • What to ask an agent who offers to represent you
    • Why it's usually prudent to wait a few days before responding to revision suggestions
  • Agencies and how to work with them
    • Agency contracts
    • Being an agent's dream client
    • Deal memos
    • My agent has asked me to send multiple copies of my manuscript — how do I ship it?
    • What an agent means by a book proposal
    • What an agent will expect a new client to know about the publishing industry — a crash course
    • What an agent will expect your manuscript to look like
    • What an agent will expect your query to look like
    • What if my agent wants me to revise my manuscript before she submits it?
    • Why you should make backups before you send a manuscript to an agent or editor
    • Working well with an agent
  • Agency guides
  • Agents
  • Agents – landing the right one for your book
    • Agency submission guidelines and how to read them
    • Approaching agents at conferences
    • Approaching agents online or by e-mail
    • Common agents' pet peeves
    • Does getting rejected mean I don't have talent?
    • Does it matter what font I use in my submission?
    • First pages agents tend to dislike
    • Generating a querying list
    • How can I tell if an agent is reputable?
    • How much of a book must be written before I can pitch or query it?
    • I've granted an exclusive and I have not heard back! What are my options?
    • Is it acceptable to query or submit to US-based agents on A4 paper?
    • Is it OK to approach two agents at the same agency?
    • Is it OK to query several agents at once?
    • Is it OK to re-query or resubmit to the same agent twice?
    • Is it OK to submit to several agents at once?
    • Is it okay to include a longer writing sample with a query than the agency's submission guidelines specify?
    • Is it okay to re-approach an agent that has already rejected my book?
    • Is it okay to send more pages than an agent has requested?
    • Realistic expectations for pitchers
    • Realistic expectations for queriers
    • Realistic expectations for submitters
    • So you have pitched successfully to an agent — what now?
    • What are the polite ways to approach an agent?
    • What does a cover letter for a submission look like?
    • What does it mean if an agency says it accepts only exclusive submissions?
    • What does it mean if an agency says it only accepts queries from previously-published writers?
    • What info should be in a query?
    • What should a query look like?
    • Why a savvy submitter ALWAYS proofreads before submitting
    • Why a savvy writer NEVER submits unnumbered pages
    • Why agencies so often use screeners
    • Why an aspiring writer should neither cold-call an agency nor show up on its doorstep
    • Why do I need an agent?
    • Why haven't I heard back yet?
    • Why might I consider pitching instead of querying?
    • Why shouldn't I query agents one at a time?
    • Why shouldn't I send the same query to every agent?
    • Why you should never grant an exclusive at the querying stage unless an agency’s submission guidelines specifically ask for it
    • Why you should not assume that the agent you liked so much at a conference should have an exclusive look at your manuscript
    • Why you should not just pick up the phone and call your favorite author's agent
    • Why you shouldn't query every agent in the country
  • Agents/Editors who used to attend the CTSRN
  • Anne's Book Picks
  • Anne's editorial pet peeves
  • Anne's favorite posts
  • Art Of Revision
  • Author bio
  • Author photo
  • Author readings and why you should attend them
  • Author! Author! Awards for Expressive Excellence
  • Author! Author! housekeeping issues
  • Autobiographical fiction
  • Back jacket blurbs
  • Back-up copies
  • Bad laughter
  • Better answers than "Umm…" to "So what do you write?"
  • Binding your work
  • Bits of site-related business
  • Blog housekeeping
  • Book categories
    • Appropriate vocabulary for your chosen book category and why you will want to observe its strictures
    • But my book doesn't fit comfortably into just one category!
    • Genres and their conventions
    • How specific should I be about my book's category in my query?
    • How to figure out your book's category
    • Should I indent the first paragraph of a chapter if published books in my chosen genre sometimes do not?
    • Should I mention the book category on my title page?
    • What is a book category?
    • What's the difference between literary fiction and just good writing?
    • What's the difference between memoir and narrative nonfiction?
    • What's the difference between science fiction and fantasy?
    • Why do I have to pick a category at all?
    • Why what would constitute good writing in one book category might not wow readers in another
  • Book concept
  • Book jackets and the things that go on them
  • Book keynote
  • Book length
  • Book marketing 101
  • Book promotion from the author's perspective
    • Author blogs and why your publisher will want you to write one
    • Blog tours
    • Blog tours and why you should do them
    • Book promotion
    • Book reviews and how they work
    • Book tours
    • Book trailers — do they work?
    • Coming up with a marketing plan
    • Dealing with readers' reactions to one's books
    • Figuring out your book's selling points
    • Figuring out your target market and how to reach it
    • Getting a good author photo
    • Giving a good author interview
    • Giving good author readings
    • How to be an effective and polite guest blogger
    • Promotion burnout and how to avoid it
    • Setting up your own book signings
    • Wait — I might not get to choose my book's title?
    • What makes a good author bio or photo?
    • Why are authors now expected to promote their own books so much more vigorously than in days of yore?
    • Why you shouldn't promise your kith and kin free copies of your books
  • Book proposals
  • Book proposals and how to pull them together
    • A quick reference guide to book proposal presentation
    • Demonstrating your platform in a proposal
    • Everything you wanted to know about book proposals but were afraid to ask
    • How does one go about writing a book proposal?
    • How should I format my book proposal?
    • How to mail or e-mail a book proposal
    • I've written a memoir — why do I need to write a book proposal for it?
    • Must I have a full manuscript in hand before I propose?
    • Revising a book proposal successfully
    • Submitting a book proposal to a US-based agent from outside the US
    • What’s the overview and how do I construct one?
    • Why do some agencies want to see a proposal and some the full manuscript?
  • Book publishing basics
  • Building blocks of a pitch or query
  • Building your writing résumé
  • But don't I have to be a celebrity in order to get a personal memoir published?
  • But I like that character's name! Why shouldn't I use it as often as possible in the text?
  • But I want to get the story on the page as fast as humanly possible!
  • But it really happened that way!
  • But why shouldn't I use my favorite word as often as I can?
  • Calls for submissions
  • Censorship subtle and otherwise
  • Changing nature of publishing
  • Chapter headings and openings
  • Character and conflict development in memoir
  • Character development
    • Building a better expert character
    • Character development in synopses or queries
    • Character development tips
    • Character-revealing dialogue
    • Creating a protagonist the reader will want to follow through a whole book — or a series
    • Creating sufficiently odious antagonists
    • Introducing physical descriptions
    • Relationship development
    • Secondary characters
    • Selecting distinctive character names
    • Showing (not telling) character
    • Subtle ways to make characters seem more or less intelligent
  • Collaboration
  • Conference etiquette
  • Conference faux pas
  • Conference lore
  • Conference pitching
  • Conference selection
  • Conferences that cater to writers
  • Contests and how to enter them successfully
    • Contest entry bugbears
    • Contest entry prep
    • Contest judging criteria
    • Contest rules and how to follow them
    • Contest synopsis-writing
    • Entering US literary contests from outside the US
    • Entering writing contests with aplomb — and a chance of winning
    • Finding the right contest to enter
    • How can I tell if entering a contest is worth the entry fee?
    • How can I tell if I'm entering the right category?
    • How serious are contest judges about length restrictions?
    • How should I format my contest entry?
    • How to construct a title page for a contest entry
    • How to read a writing contest entry form
    • How to write a 1-page synopsis for a contest
    • I'm a finalist — what now?
    • Is it okay to enter writing in a contest and submit it to agents simultaneously?
    • Is the humor in my entry likely to amuse Mehitabel?
    • Must I submit the opening pages of my manuscript to a contest with categories for book-length works?
    • Poetry contest entries
    • Realistic expectations for contest entrants
    • Should I ever consider writing something new for a contest?
    • Should I ever pay a fee to enter a writing contest?
    • Should my entry's title page be included in the page count?
    • The Make Us Want to Eat It Literary Competition — a step-by-step guide to preparing an entry
    • The Make Us Want to Eat It Literary Competition of 2012
    • The Sensual Surfeit Literary Competition — a step-by-step guide to formatting your entry
    • The Sensual Surfeit Literary Competition of 2012
    • Wait! Read this post before you mail off that entry!
  • Contests that are worth your time to enter
  • Copyright issues
  • Craft and plenty of it
    • Action scenes
    • At the risk of repeating myself…
    • Avoiding killing your darlings
    • Backstory and how to work it into a plot
    • Beginning and ending a book
    • Building suspense
    • But I like that phrase! Why shouldn't I use it twice?
    • But I've heard that I should never…
    • But my writing is original! Why should I worry about a reader's reaction?
    • Character blurring
    • Character naming
    • Cliché avoidance
    • Comic voice and how to develop it
    • Conflict-building
    • Consistency and why it is important to develop
    • Constructing a narrative
    • Continuity and why it is important to maintain
    • Craft! In-depth analysis
    • Cutting to the chase and why it isn't always the best idea
    • Descriptive shortcuts and narrative shorthand
    • False suspense
    • Flashbacks
    • Funny on the page vs. funny in real life
    • Good writing habits to form
    • Hollywood narration
    • Hooks
    • Italics use
    • Jargon usage
    • Logical flow
    • Making the past come alive
    • Narrative consistency
    • Pacing a scene
    • Passive protagonists
    • Passive voice and why you should eschew it
    • Plausibility
    • Plot development
    • Protagonist likability
    • Protagonist memorability
    • Real stories told as fiction
    • Realistic dialogue
    • Reimagining a classic tale
    • Run-on sentences and why professional readers don't like them
    • Running order
    • Series writing and plotting
    • Setting time and place
    • Show don't tell
    • Story arc and why a good book needs one
    • Storytelling structure
    • Suspense-building
    • Tense-switching
    • Tension-building
    • The End
    • Vivid details
    • Voice
    • What are the proper ways to format thought in a manuscript?
    • What makes a great page 1?
    • Why sounding like your favorite author from a decade ago might not work well now
    • Why sounding like your favorite comedian might not result in funny writing
    • Why what worked in the 19th century might not work on the page today
    • Why what worked in the latest bestseller might not work tomorrow
    • Will that cultural reference seem dated five years hence?
    • Write what you know
    • Writing comedy
    • Writing love scenes
    • Writing on dark topics
    • Writing the real
    • Writing the unreal
  • Dark comedy
  • Dated references
  • De facto exclusives
  • De facto exclusives and why they are a bad idea
  • Deadlines and how to meet them
  • Deadlines that writers create for themselves
  • Dialogue and how to write it well
    • Dialogue that adds to the scene
    • Dialogue that moves quickly
    • Dialogue that moves TOO quickly
    • Dialogue that rings true
    • Dialogue-only scenes
    • Formatting dialogue
    • How do I punctuate one character's quoting another?
    • Humor in dialogue
    • Interview scenes that work
    • Is it effective characterization to give a character a catchphrase?
    • Jargon in dialogue
    • Redundant dialogue
    • Should I use italics every time a character would emphasize a word out loud?
  • Dialogue complexity and realism
  • Does it matter what font I use in my manuscript?
  • Does rejection mean I don't have talent?
  • Double-checking that your manuscript is formatted correctly — a quick reference
  • Drama vs melodrama
  • E-publishing
  • ECQLC? What's that?
  • Editing dialogue
  • Editing your own manuscript
    • Editing fantasy
    • Editing for clarity
    • Editing for complexity
    • Editing for freshness
    • Editing for humor
    • Editing for length
    • Editing for logical flow
    • Editing for pacing
    • Editing for plausibility
    • Editing for self-publishing
    • Editing for style
    • Editing for voice
    • Editing memoir
    • Editing out redundancy
    • Editing the opening pages
    • How and why politeness can make a scene drag
    • Is my manuscript dated?
    • Making physical contact come to life on the page
    • Manuscript megaproblems
    • Minimizing structural repetition and conceptual redundancy
    • Perspective switching
    • Plot flares
    • Pulling the reader out of the story
    • Purging protagonist passivity
    • Sagging in the middle
    • Slow openings
    • Tag lines and how to minimize them
    • The fine art of making nouns plural
    • The little things that drive the pros nuts
    • Why it’s a good idea to double-check your manuscript’s formatting as well as its style
    • Writing clichés
  • Editors and how to work with publishing houses
    • A brief history of requested revisions and rejections
    • Book contracts
    • Editorial committees
    • Editorial eye
    • Editorial memos
    • Editors
    • Galleys and how to work with them
    • Hardcover vs trade paper
    • How authors get paid for their books
    • How big may I expect my initial print run to be?
    • How do self-published books get edited — or do they?
    • How much time passes between contract and publication?
    • How much will my publisher expect me to promote my own book?
    • I've pitched at a conference and an editor asked to see pages — what do I do now?
    • PItching to editors at conferences
    • Should I use my manuscript submission to show my typeface and book cover preferences?
    • Unsolicited submissions
    • What happens if an editor falls in love with my book?
    • What happens if the acquiring editor and I disagree about revising my book?
    • What's the difference between an acquiring editor and a copyeditor — or a developmental editor?
    • Who has ultimate say over a book's title?
    • Will my publisher give me free copies of my book for my kith and kin?
    • Working on revision with an editor
  • Electronic querying and submission
    • Are there times I should avoid e-querying?
    • Does it matter how e-mailed submissions are formatted?
    • E-mailed submissions
    • E-mailing queries
    • E-mailing writing contest entries
    • E-querying pros and cons
    • How to e-mail requested materials
    • How to format an e-mailed query
    • Is it okay to format queries or submissions for A4 paper if I'm sending them via e-mail?
    • Querying forms on agency websites
    • Should I include a title page with requested materials I'm e-mailing — and does it count toward the number of pages the agent asked me to send?
    • The one thing a savvy e-querier must do before hitting send
    • Why you might not want to e-mail requested materials immediately after receiving a request for pages
    • Why you might want to think twice about sending an agent or editor an e-mail
    • Why you should include a cover letter when e-mailing requested materials
  • Epigraphs
  • Ergonomics
  • Everything you wanted to know about book proposal but were afraid to ask
  • Exclusive requests — what do they mean?
  • Exclusive-wrangling
  • Exclusives and multiple submission
  • Exclusives to agents
  • Fee-charging agencies
  • Feedback on your writing
    • Contests that offer feedback
    • Critique groups
    • Feedback incorporation
    • Feedback that's actually helpful
    • Getting good at accepting feedback
    • Getting good feedback
    • I've gotten some negative feedback — how seriously should I take it?
    • What's the difference between professional feedback and what I might get from a friend?
    • Why getting feedback is more important for if you are trying to be funny on the page
    • Why getting objective feedback is even more important for memoir and fact-based fiction than more fanciful creations
  • Finances for writers
  • Finding agents to query
  • Finding time to write
  • First lines famous and otherwise
  • Folders for book proposals
  • Formatpalooza!
  • Formatting a book manuscript — a step-by-step guide
  • Formatting manuscripts
  • Frankenstein phenomena in submissions
    • Frankenstein contest entries
    • Frankenstein manuscripts
    • Frankenstein narrative logic
    • Frankenstein queries
    • Frankenstein synopses
    • Frankenstein voice and punctuation issues
    • Hasn't the narrative made that point already?
    • Hasn't the narrative used that phrasing already?
    • Inconsistent formatting choices and how they can harm a submission
  • Freelance editors
  • Freelance writing
  • Freshness
    • Freshness in a pitch
    • Freshness in book proposals
    • Freshness in comic writing
    • Freshness in manuscripts
    • Freshness in phrasing
    • Freshness in queries
    • Freshness in synopses
    • Freshness on page 1
    • How long current events remain current
    • Updating a classic tale
  • Galleys and why authors have to deal with them
  • Genre fiction
  • Getting a book published basics
  • Getting a book reviewed
  • Getting paid for your writing
  • Getting started on your next book
  • Getting your writing session started productively
  • Giving yourself permission to write
  • Great gifts for writers
  • Guest blogs & interviews
  • Guidelines for posting comments
  • Handwritten manuscripts
  • Help! I'm afraid to keep querying or submitting because I've been rejected before!
  • Help! I'm confused by this welter of online writing advice!
  • Help! I've been asked for an exclusive look at my manuscript!
  • Help! My kith and kin don't seem to support my writing!
  • Help! Several agents have asked to read my work — and one's asked for an exclusive!
  • Help! What does a professionally-formatted book manuscript look like?
  • Helpful habits for writers
  • Hey — will any of this writing advice help me write essays for school?
  • How can I know if I have enough talent to get published?
  • How do books get published?
  • How do I decide where to submit first?
  • How do I prepare a writing contest entry?
  • How do manuscripts get published?
  • How expensive do writers' conferences tend to be?
  • How long before a request for pages expires?
  • How long before the request for pages expires?
  • How long is too long for a manuscript?
  • How much of my manuscript should I bring to a writing conference? It's heavy.
  • How should my characters address one another?
  • How the publishing industry works — and doesn't
  • How to handle a request for an exclusive
  • How to handle multiple requests for pages — including an exclusive
  • How to submit exclusively
  • How to survive when people ask you
  • How to work through writer's block
  • How to…
    • How are the goals of writing different lengths of synopsis different?
    • How can I choose between competing advice?
    • How can I tell at a glance if my book proposal is formatted correctly?
    • How can I tell at a glance if my manuscript is formatted correctly?
    • How can I tell if a writing contest is worth my time to enter?
    • How can I tell if I'm talented enough to get published?
    • How can I tell if my comic touches are genuinely funny?
    • How can I tell if my synopsis is good enough to send or if it still needs fine-tuning?
    • How do I find a freelance editor?
    • How not to write a first line of a manuscript
    • How NOT to write a first page
    • How to back up your writing files at the last minute
    • How to cope with multiple submission requests if you are lucky enough to garner them
    • How to decide which contests are worth your time to enter
    • How to define a memoir's story arc
    • How to enter a writing contest — and do it well
    • How to estimate word count — and why
    • How to find agents to query
    • How to format a book manuscript
    • How to format a book manuscript — just the facts
    • How to format a book proposal
    • How to format a book proposal's title page
    • How to format a manuscript if you are visually-oriented
    • How to format a manuscript if you're in too much of a hurry to read the logic behind each rule
    • How to format a query letter for a book
    • How to format a synopsis
    • How to format a title page
    • How to format a title page if your book has a subtitle
    • How to insert a chapter break into a manuscript
    • How to move from your first book to your next with aplomb
    • How to put together a query packet
    • How to put together a submission packet
    • How to query via e-mail
    • How to read an agency listing
    • How to remove a slug line from a title page
    • How to respond if an agent or editor asks for pages after you pitch
    • How to respond to a request for a partial
    • How to set up book signings
    • How to start that next book
    • How to write a 1-page synopsis
    • How to write a 1-page synopsis in a tearing hurry
    • How to write a book proposal
    • How to write a memoir query
    • How to write a memoir synopsis
    • How to write a nonfiction pitch
    • How to write a nonfiction synopsis
    • How to write a pitch
    • How to write a pitch at the last minute
    • How to write a pitch only three sentences long (if you must)
    • How to write a query for a travel memoir
    • How to write a query letter from scratch
    • How to write a query letter in a hurry
    • How to write a query's book description paragraph
    • How to write a query's credentials paragraph if you have not published before
    • How to write a query's opening paragraph
    • How to write a really good query letter
    • How to write a really good synopsis
    • How to write a synopsis for a contest
    • How to write a synopsis for a multiple-protagonist novel
    • How to write a synopsis from scratch
    • How to write a synopsis in a hurry
    • How to write an author bio
  • I feel I made a personal connection in my pitch meeting — does that mean the agent will necessarily sign me?
  • I pitched before my book was finished — what do I do now?
  • I've just signed up to give a conference pitch — what do I do now?
  • Identifying your target market
  • Independent presses
  • Industry etiquette
  • Industry terminology
  • Interviews & guest blogs
  • Is it ever OK to send more pages than an agent requests?
  • Is it ever okay to alter formatting to fit more words on a page?
  • Is it ever okay to submit my manuscript on non-white paper?
  • Is it legitimate to borrow elements from TV shows and movies for my novel?
  • Is it okay to look for an agent before I've written a complete draft?
  • Is it okay to tinker with the formatting to make my entry short enough to fall under the page limit?
  • Is it worthwhile to pitch to an editor at a conference?
  • Just how closely do the pros read?
  • Keeping the faith
  • Legal issues for writers
  • Let's talk about this
  • Literary fiction
  • Literary fiction and its challenges
    • Literary fiction contest entries
    • Literary fiction craft
    • Literary fiction defined
    • Literary fiction marketing
    • Literary fiction pacing
    • Literary fiction pitching
    • Literary fiction queries
    • Literary fiction synopses
    • Literary fiction voice
    • Revising literary fiction
    • Should I try to be funny in a serious-toned book?
    • What are my options if my manuscript runs long?
  • Manuscripts and how to format them properly
    • A quick reference guide to the various parts of a properly-formatted manuscript
    • A visual tour of a properly-formatted manuscript
    • Are single quotation marks ever acceptable to use in American English other than to designate quotes within quotes?
    • Chapter breaks and how to format them
    • Clean manuscripts and why they are desirable
    • Contest entries and how to format them
    • Date and time announcements
    • Dialogue formatting
    • Ending your manuscript
    • Formatting for US letter size if you wrote the manuscript for A4
    • Formatting quotations and citations
    • How do I make the page numbering start somewhere other than the first page of the document?
    • How does one handle a subtitle in formatting the title page and slug line?
    • How much should paragraphs be indented?
    • How should recipes be formatted in a manuscript?
    • Is it ever okay to open a chapter with an unindented paragraph as I see done in published books?
    • Is it ever proper to underline words in a book manuscript?
    • Italics and when they are correct to use
    • Letters in manuscripts
    • Manuscript formatting 101
    • Manuscript formatting like a pro
    • Manuscript shipping
    • Must I italicize thought or is it a stylistic choice?
    • Numbers in manuscripts
    • Page 1 and what it should look like
    • Page 2 and thereafter
    • Page numbering
    • Prologues and introductions
    • Section breaks
    • Slug line
    • Slug lines illustrated
    • Song titles and names of publications
    • The great one space – two space debate
    • The rules of book formatting
    • Title page formatting
    • What book manuscripts look like
    • What book proposals look like
    • What's the difference between left-justified text and block-formatted text and why should I care?
    • Where can I find the right kind of folder for a book proposal?
    • Why does it matter how my manuscript is formatted?
    • Why should I include a title page in my submission at all?
    • Why should I indent my paragraphs?
    • Why you're usually better off estimating word count than using actual word count for a manuscript
  • Marketing plan
  • Medical issues for writers
  • Meeting fellow writers and other kindred spirits
  • Memoir – its many joys and trials
    • Are dialogue and thought in memoir governed by the same rules as dialogue and thought in fiction?
    • Autobiography and memoir defined
    • Character development in memoir
    • Common memoir-writing faux pas
    • Coping with your kith and kin's reactions to your writing a memoir
    • Dealing with the Tolstoy problem
    • Do I have to write my entire memoir before I start to query or only the book proposal?
    • Fact-checking anecdotes
    • How can I tell whether I am writing memoir or narrative nonfiction?
    • How do I format my title page if my memoir has a subtitle?
    • How does good memoir style differ from good writing in other types of manuscript?
    • How much of my memoir's voice should I reveal in my query?
    • Humor in memoir
    • Memoir book proposals
    • Memoir contest entries
    • Memoir craft and marketing
    • Memoir openings and structure
    • Memoir querying
    • Memoir synopsis-writing
    • Memoir voice
    • Revising memoir
    • Story arc in memoir
    • Travel memoir
    • Ways you might not want to describe your memoir in a query or pitch
    • What happens after a publisher buys my memoir?
    • Why do some agencies expect only a proposal for a memoir and others a full manuscript?
    • Why the phrase true memoir drives Millicent nuts
    • Writing memoir
  • Millicent? Who the heck is Millicent?
  • Multi-book contracts
  • Multiple protagonists and how to handle them
    • Formatting a multiple POV novel
    • Multiple protagonist novel queries
    • Multiple protagonist synopses
    • Multiple-protagonist narratives
    • Multiple-protagonist novels
  • Must Reads
  • My memoir's saga
  • My novel's road to publication
  • Naming characters
  • Narrative Choices
    • First-person narration
    • I've heard that the rules of grammar may be applied differently to first-person narration — is that true?
    • Italics use and how it can affect narrative voice
    • Narrative distance vs. generalization
    • Omniscient narration
    • Point of view choices
    • Present-tense narratives
    • Tight third-person narration
    • Voice choices and your pitch
    • Voice choices and your query
    • Voice choices and your synopsis
    • What does and doesn't make a voice book category-appropriate?
    • What does and doesn't make a voice unique?
  • Narrative shortcuts
  • New Year's resolutions and how to put them into practice well
  • Niche market
  • Nom de plume usage
  • Nonfiction
    • A one-stop reference to formatting a book proposal
    • Annotated table of contents
    • Competitive market analysis
    • How do I format a title with a colon in it on a title page or in the slug line?
    • How selling nonfiction is different from selling fiction
    • How to format a subheading
    • How to format quotations from other sources
    • How to mail a book proposal
    • Introductions and prologues
    • My book has a subtitle — how should it appear on the title page?
    • Narrative nonfiction
    • Nonfiction contest entries
    • Nonfiction marketing
    • Nonfiction pitching
    • Nonfiction proposals
    • Nonfiction querying
    • Nonfiction synopses
    • Nonfiction technique
    • Nonfiction voice
    • Overview in a proposal
    • What happens after a publisher accepts my proposal?
    • What should a book proposal look like on the page?
    • What should a book proposal's title page look like?
    • Will footnotes or endnotes work in a book proposal?
  • Originality in manuscripts
  • Overcoming writer's block
  • Partial manuscript submissions
  • Partials and how to handle them
  • Pen names and how to use them
  • Pet peeves on parade
  • Pitching to an agent
    • 2-minute pitch
    • 3-line pitch
    • But I made a connection with that agent!
    • But I've heard…
    • Do I need to memorize my pitch?
    • Does a successful pitch mean that I can't query or submit to anyone else?
    • Elevator speech
    • Hallway pitching
    • Hollywood hooks
    • How can I keep myself from freaking out mid-pitch?
    • How do I know which agent at a conference would be the best to approach?
    • How long is it likely to be between a successful pitch and the book's hitting the shelves?
    • How will I know if my pitch DID work?
    • I've pitched and received a request for pages — what do I do now?
    • I've received a request to send pages — do I still need to query?
    • Pitch examples
    • Pitching 101
    • Pitching a multiple protagonist novel
    • Pitching a nonfiction book
    • Pitching faux pas
    • Pitching memoir
    • Pitching or querying nonfiction
    • Pitching tips
    • Pitching: basic how-to
    • Pitching: the master class
    • Post-pitch etiquette
    • Scheduling pitch meetings
    • Should I bring my manuscript to a pitch meeting?
    • The magic first hundred words
    • The mythical right words to use in a pitch
    • The one thing a pitcher should NEVER do after receiving a request for pages
    • What actually happens in a pitch meeting?
    • What do I do if my pitch works?
    • What should I do if I can't make my scheduled pitching appointment?
    • What should I do if my pitch doesn't seem to be working?
    • When should I NOT approach an agent at a conference?
    • Why might my pitch get rejected?
  • Pitchingpalooza!
  • Platform
    • Platform paragraph in a query
    • Platform-demonstration in a pitch
    • Platform-demonstration in a proposal
    • Platform-demonstration in a synopsis
    • What is a platform and why do I need one?
  • Plugs for Readers' Work
  • Poetry formatting
  • Post-conference etiquette
  • Print-on-demand (POD)
  • Prologues
  • Proofreading
  • Public readings
  • Publication Fairy and those that believe in her
  • Publishing contracts
  • Punctuation and how to use it properly
    • Colons and why they should have two spaces after them
    • Commas and their proper wrangling
    • Ellipsis use
    • How to format dashes and hyphens
    • Hyphens and how they are frequently abused
    • Indentation and why it isn't optional
    • Punctuating dialogue
    • Punctuation and grammar of the non-standard variety
    • Quotation marks around non-quotes
    • Semicolons and why only writers like them much
    • Using possessives and plurals correctly
    • What is subject-object agreement and why should anyone still care about it?
    • Why you might want to think twice about capitalizing words other than proper nouns
  • Query letters and how to write them well
    • "Complete at X words" and other querying clichés
    • Concrete examples of queries and why they work or don't
    • Dear Agent letters
    • Do I have to mention the word count in my query?
    • Does it matter what font size I use in my query?
    • Eye-Catching Query Letter Candy
    • Figuring out which agents to query
    • How not to write that pesky description of your book for a query
    • How to construct a query packet
    • How to show why you are querying a particular agent
    • How to talk about your target audience without sounding boastful
    • How to write a query letter step by step
    • How to write that pesky description of your book for a query
    • I've been rejected before — why should I keep querying?
    • Is it ever okay to query the same agent twice with the same book?
    • Is it ever okay to send more sample pages than an agency's submission guidelines specify?
    • Is it okay to include attention-grabbing gifts in my query packet?
    • Magic words you might want to include in your query letter
    • Queries that are too long
    • Query + sample pages
    • Query formatting
    • Query letter troubleshooting
    • Query letters 101
    • Query letters illustrated
    • Queryfest!
    • Querying
    • Querying a multiple protagonist novel
    • Querying a US-based agent from outside the U.S.
    • Querying ethics
    • Querying fatigue
    • Querying faux pas
    • Querying literary fiction
    • Querying memoir
    • Querying SF/fantasy
    • Querying US agents from outside the US
    • Querying via e-mail or online
    • Querying YA
    • Self-rejecting queries
    • Should I mention that someone referred me to this agent?
    • Should I query under my pen name or my real one?
    • The one thing a savvy querier ABSOLUTELY MUST do to a query before sending it
    • What do I use as a writing credentials paragraph if I have no writing credentials?
    • What if I have more than one book to query?
    • What is a query letter?
    • What is this SASE I keep seeing mentioned in submission guidelines?
    • What should a query letter look like?
    • When are the best and worst times to query?
    • Why generic queries don't work
    • Why haven't I heard back about my query?
    • Why MUST I include a SASE with my query?
  • Query packets and things that go in them
  • Querying multiple agents at once
  • Querying nonfiction
  • Querying or submitting to US agencies from outside the US
  • Querypalooza!
  • Quoting other writers in your work
  • Realistic expectations for writers
  • Referrals to agents
  • Rejection and moving on from it
    • A quick history of rejection practices
    • Dealing with fear of rejection
    • Dealing with rejection
    • Does rejection mean that my book is no good?
    • Form-letter rejections
    • It's been months and I have not heard back about my exclusive submission — what are my options?
    • Pitch rejection
    • Rejection letters decoded
    • Rejection on page 1
    • Rejection: when they don't tell you at all
    • Rejection: when they don't tell you why
    • Was my manuscript rejected because it was too long?
    • Why might my query have gotten rejected?
  • Repetitive strain injuries
  • Requested materials and how to send them
    • A brief history of requested materials — and requested revisions
    • A visual tour of the constituent parts of a book manuscript
    • Am I the only writer whose ever been tempted not to send requested materials?
    • Book proposals and how to send them
    • But the final page in the partial ends in mid-sentence!
    • Cover letters for requested materials
    • How can I keep my manuscript from getting mangled in the mail?
    • How can I tell if my synopsis is polished enough yet?
    • How long should my synopsis be?
    • How soon must I send requested materials?
    • I've just pitched successfully — should I send the pages the agent requested today?
    • I've just pitched successfully — what do I do now?
    • Mailing requested materials
    • Overnight shipping requested materials
    • Partials
    • Requested material-wrangling
    • Sending requested materials to US agents from outside the US
    • Should I include a title page with requested pages?
    • Should I list the actual or the estimated word count on my submission's title page?
    • Simultaneous submissions
    • Submission packets
    • Submissions and exclusive requests
    • They've asked for 50 pages but my chapter ends on page 51!
    • What if the agent likes my partial and wants to see the rest of the book?
    • What should I do if I've received a request for pages?
    • Why it's worth your time to back up your manuscript's writing files before you submit
    • Why it's worth your time to proofread
  • Responses from book readers
  • Revise and resubmit
  • Revision burnout
  • Revision to improve your book's chances
    • A quick checklist for correct manuscript formatting
    • Agency screeners' pet peeves of the notorious variety
    • But isn't revising to make my work more marketable compromising my artistic vision?
    • Clarifying your voice
    • Common rejection triggers
    • First pages that grab
    • Format troubleshooting
    • How can I tell if I should add -s or -'s?
    • How much slack can I assume an agent will cut a new writer's submission?
    • Picking up the pace
    • Requested revisions
    • Revising for flow and rhythm
    • Revising for freshness
    • Revision tips
  • Royalties and how they work
  • SASE guidelines
  • Self-publishing
  • Series writing and how to do it well
    • Coming up with a title — and title page — for a series
    • How do I fit Revenge of the Triffids Part IV: Run in Terror! into a slug line?
    • Plotting a mystery series
    • Series authors talk about series writing
    • Wait — what I'm writing is a series?
  • Should I be worried about my work being stolen?
  • Slush piles and why they no longer exist
  • Small publishers
  • Standard format for manuscripts
    • Business format vs indented paragraphs
    • How standard format looks different for US letter and A4
    • How standard format looks different than what you might see in a published book
    • Standard format basics
    • Standard format for poetry
    • Standard format for title pages
    • Standard format illustrated
  • Start with these posts if you are brand-new to publishing
  • Stock dialogue
  • Strategizing a writing career
  • Submission
    • A quick guide to submission formatting
    • A short history of submission practices
    • Are some times of the week or year better for submission?
    • Cover letters for submissions
    • Help! I've already submitted to one agent and another has asked for an exclusive!
    • Is it ever OK to resubmit to an agent that hasn't specifically asked to see a revised version?
    • Is it okay to submit a synopsis formatted for A4 paper to US-based agents?
    • Must I submit to only one agent at a time?
    • Submission avoidance
    • Submission of requested materials
    • Submission troubleshooting
    • Submitting to a small publisher
    • What happens after I submit requested materials?
  • Submission fatigue
  • Submitting to US agents and editors from outside the US
  • Synopses and everything you need to know about them
    • 1-page synopses
    • 3-page synopsis
    • 5-page synopsis
    • Editing your synopsis for length
    • Fiction vs. nonfiction synopses
    • How can I tell if the synopsis I've written is up to professional standards?
    • How not to write a synopsis
    • Synopses
    • Synopses illustrated
    • Synopsis for a series
    • Synopsis formatting
    • Synopsis length when in doubt
    • Synopsis troubleshooting
    • Synopsis-writing 101
    • Synopsis-writing stumbling blocks
    • Writing a synopsis for a contest
  • Synopsispalooza!
  • Target audience
  • Telling details
  • The one thing a conference pitcher should NOT do after receiving a request for pages
  • Titles
    • Do e-mailed submissions require title pages?
    • Do I need to include a title page if I've been asked to send only part of my manuscript?
    • Does my book proposal need a title page — and what should it look like?
    • How do I format a title page if my book has a subtitle?
    • How do I remove the slug line from the title page?
    • Is my title page included in the page count?
    • Title pages
    • Titling your work
    • Why do I need to include a title page in my submission?
  • Turn-around times
  • University presses
  • What happens if an agent wants to see my manuscript?
  • What happens if the agent asks first for a partial then asks to see more?
  • What if I miss my pitching appointment?
  • What if they think my fictional protagonist is ME?
  • What is a query letter and why do I need one to get an agent?
  • What should I do while I'm waiting to hear back?
  • What should my manuscript look like on the page?
  • What to bring to a conference
  • What to say when non-writers ask
  • What to tell people when you land an agent
  • What to wear to a conference
  • Why are there so many different sets of writing rules online?
  • Why it's a good idea to make backups as you revise
  • Why should I post links to my book’s Amazon page?
  • Why wasn’t my comment posted?
  • Why would an agent care how I format my manuscript?
  • Why you should not promise free copies of your book to your kith and kin
  • Will my writing automatically be taken less seriously if I’m under 18?
  • Women's fiction
  • Word count
  • Writer's block
  • Writers' Conferences
    • "Good writing always finds a home" and other publishing platitudes
  • Writers' groups
  • Writing advice truisms
  • Writing credentials
  • Writing retreats
  • Writing samples
  • Writing space creation
  • Writing taboos
  • YA voice
  • Your book's selling points
  • Your next book
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