Happy Thursday, writers!
For our first date over fifteen years ago, my husband took me to a posh Italian restaurant in New Delhi. I’d been excited about seeing Sam—we’d been communicating online as I spent months in Ghana and pondered a move to Japan—but I wasn’t at ease as I sat in the restaurant that evening.
I’ve always paid my own way in a relationship, especially at the beginning, and I couldn’t afford this fancy restaurant he’d chosen. If I had to, I would pay for my half of the bill and offer to pay for his (Indian politeness at work), but it wouldn’t be good for my finances. So I did what I’ve always done in any relationship, personal or business. I spoke up. I told him the restaurant wasn’t my vibe and would he mind if we went someplace else?
He didn’t mind, of course, and we walked around the streets of Delhi, eating gol gappas, drinking chai, getting to know one another, and having an amazing time. For less than five dollars. And even though we’ve been to many nice restaurants since then, standing by the roadside and indulging in Delhi’s street food is still one of our favorite things to do.
Most of us want equality in our relationships, but we don’t always speak up when we don’t feel equal or comfortable with the lack of balance. When Sam and I met, he had far more power and money than I did and I needed us both to know that while it was likely that, to the outside world this would always be the case, it couldn’t be within the relationship.
In my personal life, speaking up was rewarding.
In business, not so much.
I realized the other day that of the four literary agents I’ve had so far, with the exception of one, each relationship fell apart because I expected it to be an equal business partnership, and they did not.
I talk about this in my course The Agent Game (which, by the way, is included in the Wordling Plus subscription). I’ve always found it easy to attract literary agents, and I’ve worked with some of the best. But I’ve found that if you want to have a solid, long-term relationship where you feel respected, the onus is on you to first identify, and then voice, what you need from this partnership.
How do you know the agent doesn’t see you as an equal?
Do they take months to read your query letter and make a decision about your book, but want an answer to an offer of representation within days?
Are they picky about the kind of books they’ll represent, but get offended when you’re picky about the kind of publishers you want to work with?
Do they take weeks to respond to your emails and make you feel unreasonable or diva-ish for expecting quicker responses?
Do they want to represent your entire body of work, even when they haven’t brought in great deals?
Did they disappear or stop responding to emails after a book didn’t sell?
I did experience some of these things in my agent relationships, and learned how to navigate through them successfully. If you’re interested in a traditional book deal, you can check out The Agent Game (which you can get for $99 as part of the Wordling Plus membership), where I lay out how to handle these situations.
It was, however, draining each time and set me back for months, if not years. I’ve come to understand that while my door is always open for the right agent, I’m only interested in a truly equal relationship. Which is becoming incredibly rare in traditional publishing.
If Sam hadn’t been willing to leave the restaurant with me that day and follow me down a rabbit hole, I would have gone alone.
And it’s time for me to make that same choice with publishing now.
Cheers,
Natasha