Agent Writing Novels & Stories

"Not details. Just — you're in the way he talks about the building. Like you're part of what makes it workable." Caleb looked at her sideways. "He talks about you, too." "I know what he says about me." "Relentless?" "Among other things." A small silence. Comfortable, which surprised her. She wasn't comfortable with silences lately — they had too much room in them, too much space for thoughts she was managing carefully. But this one felt occupied neutrally. Like sitting in a room with a window. "How long have you been his agent?" Caleb asked. "Four years. Since before his first book." She pulled apart the last of her tamale. "He sent me the worst query letter I've ever received. Three paragra

But recently, I had received comments from my editor that the sizzling chemistry between adult leads wasn’t enough. Once I told Aria, she clapped her hand. I had to take one of her assignments. The best one. For the experience. It would surely ignite my passion and help me write sizzling and steamy scenes. “He can’t know that someone from the agency hired you.” “I don’t work here, so. No problem.” “You know what I mean. He cannot know that you’re being paid.” I was stunned. “I am being paid?” I asked. “If you want the money, you can have it. Or I will buy you loads of nice things.” Aria giggled.

The next month flew by in a whir of brainstorms and phone calls and late nights staring at my computer screen. The end result: my very own literary agency. Well, technically, agent. Singular. Just me. Working out of my apartment after getting home from my day job. But I had plans, dammit. Big ones. Ones that involved getting good books by talented writers out in the world. Starting with Joy Needermyer. She’d been skeptical. Of course she was skeptical. After working with a publisher for over a year, only to be asked time and time again to tweak something, delete something, blah, blah, blah.