How To Query A Literary Agent Novels & Stories

"Yes, I am, but —" She held up a hand to stop me. "I may have a solution. After I read your manuscript, I sent it to an affiliate of ours based in England. They're a newer house, just started operations about four months ago. Bloodhound Press. You can look them up on LinkedIn if you wish. I'll send a separate email to their Editor-in-chief. She was actually very pleased to go through the initial outline I sent over. I'll see if she's still interested in the full manuscript, and if she is, she would get back to you directly."

When I get here, I search for the section on fiction novels and find it at the back. Great! That means less distance. I take a seat on one of the chairs there and pull out my draft book. I pull out my laptop from my backpack and turn it on then go to my email. There's literally a thousand from my agent. Great! I click onto the newest one which reads; “Could you have the manuscript finished by next month? Rupert is on my neck demanding it." I itch to tell her to tell him to go fuck himself, but I don't do that. I just type and" OK!” and send the message.

"Due October fifteenth. Cover letter, portfolio, editorial vision statement, leadership plan, and a sample issue mock-up. You’ll also interview with me, Ms. Hargrove, and Principal Walker.” A collective groan. He smiled without warmth. “Yes, I know. Democracy is exhausting.” Riley leaned over from the next desk and whispered, “If you don’t apply, I’ll kill you with your own AP Lit textbook.” I kept my eyes on the packet in front of me. My name should have already been on it in my head. That was the problem.

Jayden asked. “She’s up there. Dancing with Adrian,” I said, pointing. Jayden squinted. “Who the hell is Adrian?” “Another ghost. I met him recently.” “This is weird,” Jayden laughed. “You can see two ghosts?” I nodded. “Hell yes, we are publishing this story!” “I don’t know, man…” “There’s nothing to know. The agent wants at least one chapter by Monday.” I thought for a long moment. Then nodded slowly. “Fine. I will send you two chapters. And I want to meet the guy.”

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.

“Actually, Mr. Williams, I was surprised to receive your phone call this morning, but I’m very glad to be here,” Cynthia had just finished breakfast when Peter called, requesting a meeting in his office at three thirty to discuss her contract. Feeling the rush of future wealth, she immediately took a cab downtown and treated herself to a manicure, pedicure, facial, hair style and entirely new wardrobe. “You presented a very convincing case, Ms. Anderson. We usually don’t sign contracts directly with authors, which is why I also invited Ms. Glickman here. She’ll be acting as your agent on the contract negotiations and Joan will be your editor,”

My reflection stares back at me under the warm vanity lights, and for a second. I turn on the faucet, splashing cold water onto my face. Just as I reach for a towel, my phone buzzes. I frown. No one contacts me here. No one except Julian, and he’s out there. When I check my screen, a single email notification pops up on my private email—the one no one has. “Dear Writer,” Anonymous Writer ShortStuff001, We are reaching out to set up a meeting regarding your book, “Who Was I Before You?” We would like to discuss signing it under our agency. Please reach out as soon as possible.”

Still pissed off with my encounter with Alessia, I drove back to work, only to almost bump into my best friend, who was my former roommate at the lobby. “Olive, what are you doing here?” I asked, even though I knew why she was here. “Hey. Glad I caught you. You didn’t return my call.” She accidentally read my manuscript over a year ago. That was how she became my literary agent. I breathed deeply. “Give me two months. That’s all I need.” “Honey, you know I love you. I can give you the time you need, but the publisher won’t wait any longer. It’s been more than a year since your last book, and the fans are getting enraged and anxious. And you got the advance payment already.”

“More than okay. I finished something I’ve been working on for a long time. “ He doesn’t ask why I am up so late so I decide not to bother him with details of how my night went on. Instead, I want to know more about what he was doing. I can listen to him for hours. “Congratulations, “ I chirp, “What is it about?” “It’s literary theory. I just finished talking to my agent back in New York. “ I make a quick mental calculation. Right, it’s still early evening there. “And? “ “And we’ve actually already sold the manuscript to a major publisher. “ “Wow!” I gasp excited. Of course they did, he’s totally brilliant at what he does. “That's amazing. “ I say, trying not to sound like one of his crazy f

It is a genuinely remarkable piece of work and you should not let anyone talk you into being uncertain about that. Aria said: All right. Elena said: Second. It is going to require a publisher and I have a contact. You know I have a contact because I have mentioned having a contact twice over the past six months in contexts that were oblique enough not to be pressuring but specific enough that you would remember if you needed to. Do you remember? Aria said: I remember. The literary agent your firm does intellectual property work for. Elena said: Correct. I am going to send her the manuscript with a note. She will say yes or she will not. If she says yes, you have an agent. If she does not, we