A plucking good time

Up to Suffolk to visit the crinklies and the super-crinklies. Nanny’s down to her last chicken- foxes and old age got the rest. It looks OK but when you pick it up there’s nothing on it, just skanky feathers. Message to chicken- thanks for all the nice eggs you used to make.

Someone knows someone useful

Paul calls and sounds very excited. He says a friend of his is best friends with an agent and he’s offered to do everything he can to help me. Sounds promising. I get his number and call.
“Hi there, my name’s Rob. I think Paul mentioned me.’
“Sure. I hear you’re looking for an agent.’
‘Yes.’
‘What sort of book is it?’
‘A commercial thriller.’
‘OK. What have you done so far?’
‘I’ve sent the first 3 chapters, synopsis and biography to xxx, xxx and xxx. (the three agents)’
‘Well, it sounds like you’re doing all the right things…’
I wait. He doesn’t continue.
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘I don’t think there’s much I can do, you’re going about it exactly the right way.’
I’m not exactly drowning in offers of help here.
‘Thanks,’ I say again.
‘Right, well, get back to me if you have any more questions. Good luck.’
A very strange call.

Slush

With no contacts in the industry I have to send my stuff, unsolicited, to agents where it will sit on their slush pile and hopefully, eventually, get read. Some agents receive more than 200 submissions a week.

I get the Writer’s Handbook 2005 and start counting. There are 162 agents/agencies in the UK and of those, 67 don’t deal with commercial fiction, leaving 95 places I can approach. Most agents want you to send them your work exclusively or they won’t read it. So if I wait for each agent to reply before I send another script out, and if they take an average of 6 weeks to reply, the whole process could take 10 years and 11 months. Bugger that, I think, and decide to send three out at a time. See how it goes.

I make a list of agents who represent thriller writers and writers I admire. I choose 3 and send off letter, synopsis, biography and first three chapters. Kiss each envelope in the Post Office and work out that if I have to approach all 95 agents it’s going to cost me £201.02 in postage (second class), paper, toner and envelopes. That’s a weekend in Berlin.

Everyone loves it

Getting great feedback from the five friends I’ve asked to read ‘Clipped.’ A couple of small suggestions which I’ve looked at but they all want to read more. A good sign.

Pooh

Get a reply:

“I like this and I like the setting but something tells me that I’m not going to be the right agent for the book. It has a slightly whimsical edge to it which I think works against it fitting neatly into this hungry genre at the moment.
I am sorry, but I do appreciate being allowed to see this at this point. I wish you all the best in your hunt for an agent. I suspect it won’t take long and you will make a great success of this.”

It seems like a really nice rejection letter. Either he really is being positive or he always says “no” like this. Or he wants to sleep with my friend.

I don’t know what a “hungry genre” is. And I thought “whimsical” meant childish, like Winnie the Pooh. I look it up in the dictionary.

1. spontaneously fanciful or playful (come again??)
2. given to whims; capricious
3. quaint, unusual or fantastic

Which leaves me none the wiser. I look at “whimsy.”

1. quaint, comical or unusual, often in a tasteless way

Maybe he meant my book was “tasteless.”

An agent wants to read it

A friend phones. She met an agent and mentioned me and he wants to read my first three chapters ASAP. Great. Reread the beginning but decide it could be tighter. And the synopsis needs more work. I work flat out from Friday 4pm, finally emailing it to the agent at one o'clock this morning ready for when he arrives at work.

At two in the afternoon I get this back:

'Many thanks - I am actually away for a week but will look fwd to reading when I return.'

How late?

Finished the book. Finally it’s done, spell-checked, edited, re-edited, printed out and I’m feeling good. Now let’s get it published.