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Agent Secret


Just yesterday I found out another academic colleague is a wannabe novelist.  Unaware that I had written six novels and more short stories than I can count (I don’t have that many fingers), she asked me if I knew anything about getting an agent.  My response: I know a lot about NOT getting an agent.

You see, a friend of mine knows an agent.  He introduced us via email.  The agent kindly agreed to consider my Medusa novel, even though two weeks later he forgot who I was.  At least he read it.  No other agent has.  Didn’t sway him, though.

I spend some time on Medium.com.  They have some great stuff about writing.  They won’t care to read much of your stuff unless you’ve had more success than I have, but then, I’ve got a nine-to-five and I take my writing way too seriously.



Hearing from my professorial colleague got me excited about my fiction again.  Problem is I’ve got a non-fiction tome under contract and a deadline nearing.  If there were 36-hour days on this planet I might be able to get some fiction in edgewise.

Writing a book—any book—takes more time than you might imagine.  If you want to do it well.  Agents don’t want to hear it.  They want it to sparkle.  And by that I mean they want to see commercial potential.  They’re not interested in getting you off to a start.  It’s a shortsighted outlook.

My Medusa novel has movie tie-in potential.  I would say that, of course, but it’s true.  Circe is still hitting the readers’ fav lists.  And I taught classical mythology for a couple years at a state university.  I have edited, reedited, and rereedited that novel.  It sparkles.

Do I know anything about getting an agent?  Yes.  I’ve contacted several.  I know their standard rejects by heart.  If your soul’s not been sold to this craft, however, you might consider taking up knitting instead.

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