By
Sally Matheny
During a conference, a literary agent asks
you to submit your work. Suddenly, you’re frozen somewhere between unqualified
joy and unreserved terror. Who you are as a writer dangles precariously on your
response. You know you should follow through, but is it worth the risk?
The first time an agent asked for my work
it was a fluke. Really. I wasn’t pitching anything that year. During lunch, she
asked me what I write. Answering her, I was the most relaxed I’ve ever been
with an agent because 1) she didn’t represent my genre, and 2) I wasn’t
pitching. I shared my passion for sharing history with children, especially
WWII.
I informed her of intriguing WWII
veteran interviews and incorporating those into a class I taught to kids. I
told her of museum directors expressing their need for WWII books for younger readers.
My enthusiasm bubbled over. Although she
didn’t represent children’s literature, she said if I wrote something about WWII
for either four-to six-year olds or for middle grade, she’d see what she could
do.
Wow! Writing about WWII for younger
children would prove challenging. Yet, with my experience as a kindergarten
teacher and writing for children’s publications, I thought I could do it.
A great deal of research had already
been done and I had recently accepted an invitation to join a critique group. Perhaps
the doors to publishing my first book were swinging open.
After months of exhausting edits, thanks
to my phenomenal, yet brutal, critique group, I finally sent a polished copy to
the agent.
Unfortunately, she didn’t remember
asking for books for younger readers. While she liked the writing, she wanted
manuscripts for the middle grades. She suggested I send her something else.
Arrgh. All that work.
After polishing off a tub of Chunky
Monkey ice cream, I realized my efforts weren’t wasted. Although strong, the product
just wasn’t what this agent represented. I wrote her a note thanking her for
her time and for lighting a fire under me to work diligently. Plus, the whole
process strengthened me as a writer.
Having no experience writing MG, I
didn’t send her anything else. My manuscript hid in the filing cabinet until I finally
rallied courage and modified it for a slightly older audience.
Recently, at another writers’ conference,
I pitched the revised project to an agent who represents children’s books. Not
only did he like my manuscript, but he requested three more proposals for a series.
I wish I could say I’ve been offered a
contract with the agent, or better yet, with a publisher. But I sent the requested
material only a few days ago.
What if there’s another rejection?
The way I see it, agent requests went
from one item to four. I gained
experience writing, pitching, and my research will provide for additional writing
assignments. That’s progress.
I’ll keep working and submitting because
“no risk, no reward.”
How are you following through after a
conference?
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