When Agents Attack, Or How I Got F-Bombed

Like most writers whose thoughts are turning to getting a bit o' fiction published, I follow a smattering of agents and editors in addition to my steady diet of writer-friends whose struggles and victories I love to share. I particularly like Twitter in this regard, as I can get a pretty good idea of what people are like without overloading my blog reader.

So it was that this morning, Agent X was popping up rather frequently on my timeline (yep, I checked: 24 tweets so far today). I was tickled by this tweet (turning the sentences around for better readability):

RT @[AnotherTweeter] Can you twitterbully me please? I like the attention. [Agent X's reply starts here] I hate you and everything you represent. And [a particular suburb]. And you smell.

How amusing, I thought. Agent X has made a name for herself by being forthright and rather offhand with everyone, and is usually quite fun to read. So I tweeted:

@AgentX now why didn't I think of asking you to twitterbully me? What a concept.

I have tweeted AgentX maybe half a dozen times in the past few months, and she has often replied cordially. So I was surprised to receive this DM:

Just fuck off.

Ah... um... was this twitterbullying? Was it meant in jest? Agent X is in London, where she has worked for several years with a well-established literary agency. As a Brit, I'm well aware that, as a race, we're a lot more likely to resort to Anglo-Saxon terms than the clean-mouthed Midwesterners I hang out with here. So I decided to go for the light-hearted reply, to see if this was all part of the game:

@AgentX Oh that feels so good.

Agent X's reply was:

Um... right... ok!

My initial doubts were confirmed. She had meant it. No jest involved.

No, I have no intention of attempting to dent Agent X's reputation just because she was having a bad day, or perhaps had one martini too many at one of those fabled lunches that you hear of but nobody you know ever actually seems to get invited to. So no identities will be revealed. I'm trying to make a point here.

This isn't the first time this has happened. A few months back I tweeted an appreciative response to a funny remark made by a New York agent who heads up her own agency, and is also a prolific tweeter. The reply, although not as rude as Agent X's, was a definite you're-the-dust-under-my-feet putdown.

Here's the thing. I know that for every literary agent, there are thousands of wannabe writers who stalk them day and night. I know we may seem like a nuisance at times. I've seen how embittered some writers become when publication eludes them, and how they love to vent when given the tiniest opportunity.

But someday, perhaps, you may want to enter into a business relationship with me. And before I sign on the dotted line, I will pull all of your tweets and blog posts for the last six months and go through them carefully. I will subscribe to your Facebook page. I will go to the blogs and Twitter accounts of the authors you represent and look carefully to see how happy they are with you. I will check your reputation on every available watchdog site, and if I get the chance I will talk to some of the authors you represent. Because if I ever commit myself to the hard work of writing a book every few months for you, handling the marketing of said book where necessary, and handing you 15 percent of my profits, I will behave as professionally as I know how. And I expect you to do the same.

I've already learned, over two years of watching agents, that there are one or two (however successful and adulated by the lit community) that I would rather not work with. I have also found some agents to be consummate professionals, to the point where research would not be necessary. I would put my trust in them because I have found them to be trustworthy with their professional lives.

So please, please, if there are any agents reading this, think before you tweet. If you like to be a little loose-tongued in your Twitter life, get separate professional and private accounts. (And long convos with your authors should be moved to DM, seriously.)

Anyone else had this experience? Am I wrong? I'd love to know.

Oh, The Drama!

I'm waiting--shall I say breathlessly? yes, let's jump both feet into cliché ON LINE ONE-- breathlessly to receive Season 4 of Mad Men on DVD.* It's not a Jon Hamm thing--although, wow, Jon Hamm--it's a thirst for drama.

I'm not a big TV watcher. I lost my sense of humor in 1992 (as far as TV shows are concerned; I can be found laughing helplessly at books on punctuation, no kidding), reality shows make me want to throw things at the screen, and don't even get me started on American Idol and other talent contests. I'm known to recite the mantra "TV makes you dumber, reading makes you smarter" at my kids quite frequently, although they're long past the age when I can dictate how much TV they watch. (I have noticed, though, that Wasabi, in particular, is watching less and less TV. Bwahahaha.)

When I DO watch TV, my choice is drama. I used to be a big movie-watcher, but lately the short, wrap-it-up quickly format of the average movie has begun to feel a bit lightweight to me. Or perhaps it's the plethora of special effects. Anyway, lately I've been into watching the TV equivalent of the literary chunkster: many-episoded dramas with a rich cast of characters.

And I've noticed something about the dramas I like. They're all a teeny bit over-the-top. Mad Men, for example, is just too visually lush for words, and the screenwriters cram more shenanigans into a season than could reasonably occur over a decade, even in an advertising agency.

And then there's The Tudors, another recent fad of mine. (I tend to wait patiently until my dramas are on Netflix or DVD, so as not to be at the mercy of TV scheduling and commercial breaks.) OK, The Tudors is loosely based on real history, but every character is overacted and carefully photographed to make them all larger than life. And OH, THE COSTUMES! I went to the Harry Potter exhibit with Felsted and Orangina a couple of years back, and had to be dragged away. If they put on an exhibit of the Tudors costumes, I may never come home.

I think this translates into my writing. My imagination naturally leans towards life-and-death situations, impossible loves and heroines who end up in fast-flowing rivers and suchlike. I enjoy literary realism--if there is such a thing, and I have doubts on that score but let's leave that for another day--but I wouldn't like to write it. My favorite books tend to have a touch of the exaggerated, even of the preposterous, about them.

On the other hand, I shy away from actual fantasy. Faerie, dragons, shape-changers and the like hold no fascination for me, either to read or to write. What I like is reality, magnified and molded so that it is very slightly out of proportion and has the iridescent glamor of a butterfly's wing. Perhaps it feels safe. I know, for example, that Don Draper's world is unreachable, so I can enjoy him rather than despising him (although despising him a little is part of the fun).

Do your TV watching habits match up with your reading habits?

* A completely impulsive buy triggered by the 10 Minute Writer mentioning Mad Men on Facebook. But I also bought Stephen King's On Writing, in a moment of professionalism and because I needed $25 to get free shipping and the King book was juuuust the right price.

Book Review: Ellis Island by Kate Kerrigan

Where I got the book: ARC from LibraryThing's Early Reviewer program. Its publication date is 6/28/11 according to Amazon.

In 1920s Ireland, Ellie's husband has been injured fighting for his country's freedom. Ellie makes the tough decision to take a job in New York in order to send back enough money for his operation. The new life she makes for herself in the US changes her, and puts her future life in Ireland in doubt.

I'm trying very hard here not to put in any spoilers, as I think it's pretty unfair to do that for an as-yet-to-be-published novel, so you'll excuse the brief description. The cover suggests that Kate Kerrigan is a new author on the American scene, and she was also new to me.

Ellis Island was a most enjoyable read. Kerrigan is very skilled at describing place and time with a light touch that hides her research, and there are several lyrical moments in this novel that definitely place it a cut above the average.

We see the story from Ellie's point of view, and what struck me was that her voice is Irish, but not overly so. None of the Frank McCourt street Irish here: we're talking about a girl from a good family with a superior education, and I thought Kerrigan got this exactly right in Ellie's voice. The American parts of the story were pretty convincing too, although the idea that Ellie would fall so quickly into such high society strained my imagination just a little. But--again, trying to avoid spoilers here--the resolution of the story was credibly underplayed. I really wasn't too sure which decision Ellie would take, which is unusual as I generally see plot twists coming a mile off.

I would recommend this novel to anyone who enjoys historical fiction with a dose of romance but a good grounding in reality. Kerrigan is a fine writer, and I'll be looking out for subsequent books.