annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Feb 22nd I made it through the agents' day - honestly I got in such a fucking state about it you'd think I was sitting an exam to determine the fate of one of my children or something, instead of meeting, quite by accident rather than intentionally, two agents who specialise in books not like mine. Bonkers. I thought I was going to explode with the effort of reining in the anxiety and putting a decent face on for the (five) other guests and the host, none of whom I'd met before, none of whom I have to see again, though I liked one of them and we're exchanging details. Still, this is the way of the mental, which I do know. I managed to pace myself a bit by going out after the first session - two hours which stretched to two and a half hours - man I haven't concentrated on anything that long for years. I mean, it was interesting, about being an agent and how to deal with them and all that, but it just flowed into and out of my head without touching the sides. So when we stopped for lunch, instead of having the free lunch provided and either sitting at the table with them all or coming up here alone to my room, I drove for half an hour to a wild and windy beach, with big Atlantic waves crashing onto the sand, and had fish cakes and chips in the cafe then picked up litter for half an hour and all was good. On my return I had a one-to-one with each of the agents about my writing and my plan to try and extract a book from this blog. They both said they liked the writing I'd sent, powerful and engaging - one of them said it almost made her cry - but neither of them deal with memoir and don't recommend agents - they said to look it up in the Writers' and Artists' Yearbook when I've managed to assemble about 70-80 thousand of my best words. Then dinner, all of us together, then a round the fire question and answer which I stayed for though I've forgotten just about all of it, apart from that one of them was sent 1000 unsolicited submissions in January from which she asked for two complete manuscripts. So 998 rejection emails went out. Of the ten thousand she was sent in 2019, she has taken on six clients. 90 per cent of what comes in is utter tosh - she hardly need to read any of it to know it's not publishable. The rest needs consideration, some of it isn't bad but is not for her. Also, you know those book top tens in WH Smiths? They aren't based on sales - publishers pay for books to be placed in them! Fuckers. Night night xxx 11:54 p.m. - 22.02.20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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