Posts Tagged ‘response’

I saw a post recently on Facebook (one of those groups I seem to get automatically subscribed to whether I want to be there or not but decided to check out) where a woman said something like, “My daughter received a rejection saying the agent didn’t connect with the plot.  What the heck does that mean?”  I was so tempted to answer, but that way lies madness.  However, it does make a heck of a blog topic.

Here’s the thing: agents receive hundreds and hundreds of queries a week.  Our job includes reading these to see whether we’d be interested in reading further, to offer a “yes” or a “no” about reviewing additional material.  It’s not to offer critique.  We couldn’t possibly critique, say, 300 queries a week and still agent.  It’s just not possible.  When we do offer a response, it means that we thought your query deserved our going the extra mile.  Does it mean you didn’t deserve the extra mile if we didn’t comment personally?  No, it might mean that we’re busy or that our assistant reviewed it for us and didn’t feel that the query needed our attention, whether because it wasn’t ready yet for prime time, wasn’t in a genre we represent or whathaveyou.  I was surprised at the mother’s what the hell? sort of response to the agent’s comment, since pinpointing the plot as a problem area does say something about the reason that particular query failed for him or her.  It doesn’t mean the next agent won’t connect with the story.  Could it have been more specific—the plot wasn’t terribly original or didn’t have enough suspense or insert reason here?  Sure.  But, critiques are not part of our job description, except for those authors we’re already committed to working with.

When I started out in publishing, I wanted to help everyone.  I was gung ho about giving the most helpful responses I possibly could.  You know what nipped that in the bud?  Most people don’t want to hear it.  The writers who make it want constructive criticism so that they can hone their craft and be all they can be.  However, others just want to hear that they’re the greatest thing since sliced bread.  Anything else, and they’ll argue.  You heard me, argue.  You get more than a few of those and start to decide it’s not worth the grief.  Yes, we get thank-yous as well, and we truly appreciate those.  It’s good to know when we’ve made a difference in someone’s writing or career.  However, once we feel that sense of diminishing returns, well, that gung ho attitude gives way in the face of all the other work we have to get done and which we know is certain to be appreciated.

I’m so tempted to close with “And that’s how Sue sees it” from Glee, but, well, agents already get a bad wrap, and as much as I like Sue Sylvester, I wouldn’t want to be her.  For one thing, I loathe tracksuits.