Novel & Cerita Literary Agents For Historical Fiction

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.

"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

“Yes?” “This is Mara Ellison from Horizon Literary Agency. I’m reaching out because we’ve come across an anonymous manuscript that’s been circulating in underground literary circles for the past few months. It’s a powerful, raw exploration of emotional neglect in a high-society marriage, the reclamation of identity, and the painful beauty of second chances. The writing is exceptional. We believe it could be a major debut novel.” My heart stuttered. The anonymous novel I had written during the darkest months—pouring my pain, my resilience, and my quiet strength onto the pages late at night when sleep evaded me.

Dante was already gone for morning PT; he’d kissed my temple on his way out, left a protein bar on the counter like a love note, and promised to be back by noon. I opened my inbox half-asleep, expecting the usual mix of freelance invoices, spam, and my sister sending another wedding-planning P*******t board titled “Rustic But Make It Gay.” Instead, there it was. Subject: Offer – Senior Editor Position – Relocation Package Included Sender: HarperCollins West Coast Acquisitions I stared at it until the screen dimmed from inactivity. When I tapped it awake, the words hadn’t rearranged themselves into something safer. A mid-sized imprint under a major house—new literary fiction line focused on u

“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

Just her presence steady and reassuring. The best strategic developer in the country. The Forbes list. The DreamHaven award. My father's son, carrying on what he built so that someone could succeed. *** Khole had taken my mind the later months. I had made calls to editors, platform executives, literary agents who owed me favors and were fine with being reminded of them. I hadn't asked anyone to fabricate anything; I wasn't interested in creating something superficial. I simply ensured that the right people read the right pages. That was all Khole required. The work took care of everything else.

Emma was putting the finishing touches on her manuscript's final polish when her phone rang with a number she didn't recognize. She almost let it go to voicemail, but something made her answer. "Emma Chen? This is Caroline Winters from Pinnacle Literary Agency." Emma's blood ran cold. Caroline Winters was one of the most powerful literary agents in New York, known for representing bestselling authors and negotiating seven-figure deals. She was also Emma's former agent the one who had dropped her after the Marcus debacle three years ago.

After she confirmed where and who her mother was, Anna put on comfortable lounge wear, made herself a hot cup of herbal tea, picked up her loathsome eyeglasses and prepared to dive into the first of five hot off the presses manuscripts which she had agreed to read. First, she read the cover page from the agent with a glowing review of the confident Anna was going to love it and offer them a contract. Over the years, she had developed close relationships with a very select group of agents who she trusted not to send her unedited garbage that would not only waste her time reading, but piss her off to where she would no longer accept submissions from that agent. In all her years as an editor at

“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,”

I nod. “Sophia, his secretary, has a list of literary agencies. She has already gone through it and picked out all the agencies that represent authors who write in the same genre as you. Mr. Smirnov thought that you could spend the morning crafting a letter for Sophia to send.” I smile. “Gosh. You are both very efficient. It would have taken me weeks to do that.” She looks pleased. “I try my best.” “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”