by Miriam

I know Jane wrote about the issue of publishers delaying eBook publication, but now that Simon & Schuster and Hachette have officially jumped on the creaky bandwagon, I feel that it bears more discussion. Or maybe just a short rant by yours truly. It makes no sense, people! You could argue till you’re blue in the face that this move is going to result in more book sales and I won’t be convinced. As the26thstory blogged today, there’s no evidence that someone who’s committed to their Kindle, Nook, or eReader is going to plop down $25 for the hardcover instead of waiting for the eBook.

Sure, those of us who love the heft and weight of a hardcover (or even paperback) book and feel that holding one in our hands instead of an electronic tablet enhances the reading experience and who actually can’t wait another second to read an author’s work, will buy the hardcover. Then, there are all those college kids and young adults who love books but are financially strapped. That’s an audience that’s been mostly ignored by publishing folks for years because, wait for it, they don’t buy books. In my view, that’s also a market that grew up with iPods, MacBooks, and all their electronic offspring and who are less needful of the smell of paper and binding glue to enjoy a good story well told. And, there are all those moms at book clubs across the country who need to save money wherever they can and who might buy that $9.99 eBook instead of waiting patiently for their local library to have it available but who’ll never plop down the $25.

As far as I’m concerned, this new development is nothing more than publishers running scared. Instead of embracing the eBook revolution and figuring out how to make money off their product in all possible formats at a time when the market is in the midst of tectonic shifts, their solution is to clamp down on availability of that product. Seems just plain silly.

Your vehement opposition to my viewpoint is most welcome.

Best of the decade

by Stacey

As we're coming up on the new year and end of a very tumultuous decade, and looking at lots of book lists, like Jim's recent post, this piece from this week's New York magazine made me think about my favorite novel of the past 10 years. The book that popped into my head was Little Children by Tom Perrotta. Loved that book (a lot better than the movie version). It's a very compelling and real look at serious suburban dysfunction. It's funny, but also achingly sad, and the seemingly simple plot unfolds in surprising ways that subtly suggest this book is not, nor was it ever, going to have a fairy tale ending. Perrotta is a talented and versatile writer who I am always eager to read something new from. What's your favorite book of the last decade?

Chasya's Questions Corner: On Pitch Sessions

by Chasya

Another excellent question from one of our readers:

What are the biggest mistakes writers make when pitching their work at a writers' conference?


Answer:

I asked around to several other agents here to find out what sorts of things make writers stand out to them during pitch sessions--and not in a good way. These were some of their replies:

I think the biggest issue I have is when people over-rehearse. It sounds so phony and it's not engaging. I want people to talk naturally about their work, and while they should be able to do so easily, I don't want it to sound like they're reading from cue cards (or even worse, ACTUALLY reading from note cards).

-Michael


I don't know that I'd classify it as a big mistake, but I don't like it when pitches go on too long, they need to be concise, and it's hard to be objective when the pitcher gets really emotional, so I'd say keep it professional.

-Stacey


I’d say the biggest mistake is pitching a book that isn’t done: not complete, not revised, not read by a critique group or trusted friends and then revised again. It’s a waste of everyone’s time. An author that has a pitch session lined up before figuring out that they should have been further along in the process is better off taking the time to ask more general questions than pitching a book the agent can’t consider that the author might never complete—or that might be a very different book by the time they do finish.

-Lauren


I’d say being completely and utterly terrified. Or too reliant on a script. People trip themselves up and forget that all they really have to do is talk about their book. It’s better to be enthusiastic and calm than it is to be super-precise. Oh, and don’t bring props.

-Jim


We need more of your questions! Please send inquiries to news@dystel.com.

Why I Am An Agent (Jim)

by Jim

Well, jeez. Everyone else is telling you why or how they became agents. I might as well jump on board and offer the same.

Let’s face it: I had no idea what a literary agent was when I first stepped in the doors of Dystel & Goderich Literary Management in the summer of 1999. I was an Urban Design and Architectural History student at NYU with a minor in the ever practical field of Dramatic Literature—that’s dramatic as in plays, not dramatic as in literature where lots of stuff happens (yes, I’ve actually gotten this question before).

So there I was…studying to be the next great urban planner, destined for a life of fame and glory. But in the meantime, I was stone broke and needed a part time job. I sent out 40 resumes to any and every listing on NYU’s career board that sounded interesting. Why’d I apply here? I liked books. That was it.

Stacey Glick was the first person to call me back. I had an interview the next day and accepted the job the day after that. One more day passed, and I got a call about the job I had really wanted: usher at Hammerstein Ballroom. It was too late: I had already committed to coming here.

On what was supposed to be my first day of employment here, I was stranded in the suburbs because some freak storm shut down all of the trains running into New York and most of the subways. An auspicious beginning.

As Miriam Goderich often tells me about my first few months here, “Jim, you were really weird.” And that’s likely true. Painfully shy, completely terrified to be working in an office with real people who seemed strangely important and powerful, I mostly kept to myself, spoke softly, and consumed buckets of Diet Coke. For some reason, Jane and Miriam remained convinced that I had some sort of talent and wasn’t just some 19-year-old moron. I don’t know what it was, but it was definitely not my hair, which resembled a calico oil slick. Regardless, they kept me around, and I started to learn just how involved the publishing process was. It was hugely intriguing. I think I had some vague notion that there was a small group of people out there who decided to be authors, so they wrote books, sent them to Manhattan, and then had books magically appear with names like “Random House” on the spine. And while I realize this is an author’s dream come true, I was personally much more excited to learn how much that was NOT the case.

Here’s a dirty secret (well, it would be a secret if I ever kept my mouth shut): I quit Dystel & Goderich three times. Each time, I went off to get a job in my “real” field of urban planning, but that never really worked out like I planned, so I kept coming back to my “fun” field of publishing. It took me about two and a half years to realize that I didn’t have to choose a career related to my major—I never claimed to be the quickest draw on the block.

In the intervening time, I had fallen in love with diving into the slush pile to see what was there. It was a thrill to charge into manuscripts hoping for the best, preparing for the worst (the attitude I still take when opening something new). I’ll confess my nerdiness: I also pulled DGLM titles off of shelves in bookstores and read the acknowledgements thinking, “Some day my name will be in one of these.”

A full time job opened up as I happened to graduate from college. Kismet. I was told when the job was offered to me, “You realize this means you have to stop quitting and coming back.”

I didn’t sell the first project I ever signed on (though to this day, I remain convinced that it would have worked). And I didn’t sell the second. But I did sell the third, and I actually sold it pretty nicely. “They offered you what? For a paperback?”

I may have stumbled into it, but it’s been a blast ever since. I had a few criteria while I was in college for what my dream job would be: every day would be different, I’d work with fascinating people, I could wear jeans in the office, and I wouldn’t start my work day until 11:00 a.m. So…I missed out on that last one, but the first two were probably more important anyway. Maybe three. I really like wearing jeans.

It’s an honor to be involved in the process of ushering books to readers, as roundabout as that process sometimes seems. And I’m thrilled with the deeply accomplished group of authors on my list. Publishing is a team sport, and…wait, I don’t know enough about sports to make a good analogy here. They’re good folks, my authors. I’ll leave it at that.

Beyond that, I was supported by Jane and Miriam the entire way. Somehow they knew the weird kid with the bad hair might just be able to make a go at this crazy business, and they supported me every day, while also giving me just enough room to find my own footing. No one ever seems to leave the agency which is a testament to how well we all function together as a team but also how deeply rooted the generosity of support we receive is and has always been. I stumbled into this business, but Jane and Miriam invited me to stay. Here I am, ten years later. Damn, I’m getting old.

List of lists

by Jim

I’ve made it clear over the past few years that I’m a sucker for a good list. And here’s a list of lists. One blogger compiled every Best of '09 list he has found so far. Stupidly addictive. I’m going to stop looking in one…more…second….

Don't judge a book by its cover - but do you?

by Jane

Many years ago when Mary Doria Russell’s first book, The Sparrow, was being published, the publisher sent Mary and me a suggested cover. I remember it well--in fact, when I looked at it, I thought that it was a joke. There, on the jacket of this beautiful first novel was a picture of a dead bird lying on its back with its feet up in the air.

I immediately contacted the publisher and clearly expressed our adamant objections--and several weeks later an eye-catching and much more appropriate cover resulted. The book has gone on to sell hundreds of thousands of copies.

Would that first cover have prevented The Sparrow from selling? That is Joe Queenan’s theory in his amusing essay in yesterday’s New York Times Book Review. In fact, there are many wonderful books that I suspect aren’t read because their covers are so uninviting.

I asked my colleagues at DGLM for some examples of terrible jackets and here are just a few they came up with:

Rivka Galchen's Atmospheric Disturbances
Ken Kalfus's The Commissariat of Enlightenment
Dana Spiotta's Eat the Document
Alicia Erian's Towelhead, in both hardcover and paperback

I wonder whether if I really want to read a book, it’s cover would affect me. And so I decided to look at the cover of the book I am currently reading and absolutely loving: Kathryn Stockett's The Help. I was shocked--the cover is incredibly uninviting and, in my opinion, totally misleading. Thank goodness I downloaded the book into my e-reader rather than seeing it at a bookstore. Had I done the latter, I doubt I would have bought this book--and then, because of a really unfortunate cover, I would have missed a wonderful read.

Can you think of any book jackets or covers that affected you negatively--enough not to pick up that book?

Why I Am an Agent (Lauren)

by Lauren

Since Jane, Chasya, and Rachel have already weighed in on why they are agents, I thought I’d take my turn.

I came to agenting as many people do in publishing, somewhat by accident. When I finished grad school I moved home: jobless, apartment-less, and broke. I'd worked in bookstores in college and grad school and at a non-profit between, so I was pretty confident that I'd be happy in either field. As with many of the uninitiated, the only real jobs in publishing I could think of were editorial, marketing, and publicity, and I didn't think the latter two were for me. Neither the editorial job I wanted nor a position at a non-profit were especially easy to find. Out for dinner with friends one evening, having borrowed money from my mother to come into the city from the suburbs, I whined as usual that I wasn't finding a job and was going a little stir crazy. My friend Beth, fortunately, threw me a lifeline: two of her college friends, Michael and Jim, worked at an agency, and she knew they sometimes hired freelance readers. It'd be a foot in the door, an excuse to come into the city, and a bit of money to make it happen. The next day she put me in touch with Michael, and I luckily applied for a reader position just as Jane's assistant Leslie was moving off to Peru. Michael asked me if I was looking for a full-time position and wanted him to pass on my resume, and the rest is history!

So that's how I got to DGLM, but 4 1/2 years later, why am I still here when my plan had been to work in editorial? Because it turned out to be a perfect fit. Not only did Jane encourage me to take on my first client as soon as she felt I was ready while still assisting her, but working for her that first year gave me invaluable experience in just how agenting works. Most of us at DGLM started in our first job in publishing as an intern or as Jane's assistant, and it has made a tremendous difference. Jane knows the business inside and out having worked on both sides of the desk, and while the office is run on a complex set of systems (and anyone who has seen me work knows I love systems more than almost anything in the world), once you have a hang of them you have a real leg up on managing your time and serving your clients' best interests. And even though Jane’s constantly busy, her door is literally always open--we don’t even have to knock.  Jane makes a point of explaining how things work and why.  Just before my anniversary with the company, I was offered the chance to move up--take on more clients and work junior to Michael in our rights department. I was able to continue learning, not just from Michael, who taught me the ins and outs of subrights and patiently gave me advice and answers probably more often than he had time to do. I also got to move desks to sit just below the loft Miriam works from, and just from hearing her do her thing I've learned a great deal in the last few years about how to put out fires, give editorial feedback, and make sure clients are on the right track and feel supported. When another year or so later the time came for Michael to give up rights selling to focus on his ever expanding client list, Jane and Miriam once again trusted me to climb another rung of the ladder.  Jim might've regretted being so easily accessible at the next desk when I couldn't wrap my mind around a contract clause or royalty statement—or when my job, regrettably, called for me to use numbers. As an agent, my list overlaps slightly with just about every other agent’s, so there’s always someone to give me an informed second opinion, to suggest an editor who’d be perfect for my submission list, and to give me feedback on my pitches.

As the agency’s Subsidiary Rights Director and an agent, I still learn new things all the time, but I’ve also had the pleasure of being the one who sometimes knows the answers. It means a lot to me that others ask my advice now, even if it’s perhaps just rightful payback for the time spent at their desks with a confused look on my face. And I’ve gotten to see Chasya, who started as an intern back when I was Jane’s assistant and then took over the front desk from me, make a similar journey within the agency, even joining me in the back room at Jim’s old desk now that he’s got his own office.

So I’m an agent because I found myself in a supportive environment where I could grow, learn, and thrive, and where my obsession for detail and order would come in handy.  And yes, like everyone else really, I’m an agent because I love to read!

Book Clubbing at DGLM

by Rachel

 
This week, the DGLM office talked more books, as another book club meeting was held around the all-purposes back office table.

The book club is a little different to any I’ve been involved with before because, for starters, we don’t all read the same book. The DGLM book club usually involves all of us reading a different book--this time we chose novels from the great books lists that were compiled over the summer by staff and interns. Another thing that makes this book club different is that we’re not only evaluating books as readers, but as people in the publishing industry. The reports we give involve ways we would pitch the book, offering our real opinions (some in praise, some…not so much in praise), and then talking about how they performed and whether we'd have picked them out of slush.

This time around, here is what we read:

• Jane read The Giant's House by Elizabeth McCracken
• Miriam read Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
• Chasya read The Shipping News by Annie Proulx
• Jessica read What We Talk About When We Talk About Love by Raymond Carver
• Jim read The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami
• Lauren read The Secret History by Donna Tartt
• Stacey read Ordinary People by Judith Guest
• I read After All These Years by Susan Isaacs

Following the DGLM book club this week, a few of us were eager to get our hands on books others had reported on, so the idea of a book club where everyone reads a different book is especially great because it allows us to hear about books we might not have heard of or seen in bookstores, and it also introduces us to amazing new authors. I really like this concept because bookstores can sometimes be overwhelming with all those titles on display, and it can be difficult to know what or who to start reading.

  

And, believe it or not, we’ve already chosen books to read for our next book club meeting next month. This time we’ll be reading books from the New York Times Notable Books of 2009, which Jim wrote about recently. I’m excited about this because I’ll be reading from an author I’ve never heard of, and discovering new writers is a passion of mine. Have you discovered amazing authors from book clubs? 

What Jessica Papin wants

by Jessica

 

In light of Miriam’s post on good holiday gifts, and Stacey’s elaboration on what she’s looking for, I figured I’d post my own holiday wish list, the projects that I’d love to discover in my virtual stocking, the visions of submissions/sugarplums that dance in my head.

• Popular science or history of science, in particular, neuroscience, medicine, natural history and biology, but if the writing is good, I’m open to most any discipline. I’m looking for today’s answer to Lewis Thomas.
• Plot-driven literary fiction, books that contain both gorgeous writing and a well-constructed, dramatic narrative arc.
• Literate, John LeCarre-style spy thrillers
• Novelistic/narrative retellings of pivotal chapters in world history—modern or ancient—with strong contemporary resonance.
• A modern gothic novel, like Donna Tartt’s The Secret History
• Polemic/muckraking narrative, a la Barbara Ehrenreich
• Psychology and sociology growing out of original research, with either a “big think” or prescriptive orientation.
• A surprise

Moody Tweets

by Michael

There's an excellent post up on the Vroman's blog today about the failed Rick Moody story-tweeting experiment. The piece makes very good points about the insularity of publishing, which is something I've given much thought to, especially as I've headed out West. If the same group of people has the same conversations in the same spaces over and over again, what good is it really doing us? How do we reach new readers? How do we hear what book-buyers really want?

For me, this isn't about the failure of Twitter to promote books (as some who have picked up on the story have been highlighting), but rather about publishing never looking outside itself for ideas, both about how to promote books and what kinds of books people want to read. It definitely got me thinking this morning. What do you think? Is Twitter just a bad way to promote books, or is there something more to be learned here?

What Stacey Glick wants

by Stacey

As some of you might know, I had identical twin girls 10 months ago, and have 2 "older" girls at home (3 and 4 1/2). So, while I have continued to work throughout my entire pregnancies and maternity leaves, my life has had a lot to do with topics like dirty diapers, play dates, and nursery schools lately. Listening to some of the respondents from Lauren's earlier post, I wanted to give a little insight into what I'm looking for right now. For obvious reasons, I'd like to see more smart, unique, well-told parenting titles. The category is really overcrowded, so it's important that the authors have a strong platform, a fresh message, and a voice that resonates with today's overstressed, exhausted parents. It doesn't have to be practical either. There are some great narrative books out there that aren't in the parenting category per se, but appeal to that market, books like the one I just recommended on our site, One and the Same by Abigail Pogrebin. I'm also always looking for more narrative nonfiction, like a project I represent, The Widow Clicquot, which tells the little known story of the dynamic French woman who created the champagne brand. Another category I'm very fond of both personally and professionally is memoir. Also overcrowded but when it works, it's so satisfying , like Come Back by Claire and Mia Fontaine, which I've blogged about before, and which I sold after sending the proposal to 54 publishers before finding the right one! It helps for memoir to have a platform already in place, like Shreve Stockton's The Daily Coyote, based on her very popular blog. In the practical area, I am always interested in working with how-to authors on craft books and cookbooks. And finally, I've had some good success recently with young adult fiction, and I'd love to see more smart, quality work in that area. I hope to hear from you soon with new submissions!

(Now seems a good time to point your attention to our relatively new sidebar:  "I wish I saw more..."  We'll use it as a way to keep you all up to date on the "Why can't someone just send me a query for X?" conversations that go on 'round the DGLM offices.  Check it out to the right!  UPDATE:  Sorry, I meant to thank Susan at Stony River for the excellent idea!!  -Lauren)

DGLM Recommends

by DGLM

Just in time for the holidays, new staff recommendations from us here at DGLM to add to your shopping or wish lists!  Check 'em out!

Bookish holiday shopping

by Miriam

When I was a kid, the best thing I could imagine getting for my birthday or Christmas was a book. My family was, shall we say, “economically challenged,” and there wasn’t a lot of money for expensive presents, so books were the perfect gift. As far as I’m concerned, they still are. What else will keep you occupied for hours and days after the unwrapping frenzy has passed? After all, you can only use the Pedi Egg so often. And that chopping device your aunt gave you has “regifting” written all over it. But, open a book, wrap yourself in a blanket (or the Snuggie your cousin, Marge, gave you) and pour yourself a glass of wine or cup of cocoa and you’re set for a delightful time. Here are some book lists to shop from:

Michiko Kakutani's Top 10 Books of 2009
NPR's These Aren't Your Geek's Graphic Novels
The Guardian's Top 10s
PW's Best Children's Books of 2009

Chasya's Questions Corner: On Simultaneous Submissions

by Chasya

Question:

I just found out that two of the agents who are reading the full ms not only share office space, but they also share interns (based on articles and blog postings from various sources).

I know that agents usually don't talk about their potential projects with each other, but how awkward could this get?


Answer:

Great question. This entirely depends on the agents’ policy. If two agents merely share office space and do not work within the same company, it is usually ok to submit to both so long as neither specifies that you shouldn’t do so. Even if these agents talk to each other about potential projects, unless they specify that they won’t accept submissions if you’ve queried Agent B in the same office suite, then you haven’t done anything wrong.

It’s a bit different if these agents share office space and they work within the same company, however. Agencies have different policies about submissions of this kind, so we can’t speak for everyone. Within the publishing world, this can be considered a submission faux pas. We here at DGLM do not accept submissions to multiple agents at this agency precisely because we will not compete with each other in-house for projects and we do regularly share things that we feel are more appropriate for a colleague than for us. There may be some agencies that don’t mind.

The bottom line is to do your research and make sure that you follow the submission guidelines for the agency you query. If you do that, you should be ok!



We need more of your questions! Please send inquiries to news@dystel.com.

The art of hand-selling

by Jessica

Just before the Thanksgiving holiday, I attended the Middle East Studies Association conference, which is the yearly gathering of scholars of the Middle East. With its panels and papers, receptions and speeches, it is probably not unlike academic conferences of other disciplines, except that the music at the Sunday night dance party was Arab pop (if you’ve never heard the Middle East’s answer to Madonna, she’s worth a listen: check out Nancy Ajram on youtube) and among the post-docs getting down were a daunting number of accomplished belly dancers.

I go to MESA to get a sense of the ideas percolating in the field, sit in on assorted lectures, and meet with potential and existing clients whose research crosses over from an academic to a mainstream readership. This year, while helping out friends and former colleagues, I also had the memorable opportunity to moonlight as a bookseller. I have limited experience in the retail end of publishing; as an agent I’m in the business of selling books, but I’ve never tried it on a copy-by-copy basis. The experience was instructive, and I emerged from my adventure with a renewed sense of respect for the business of hand-selling.

It quickly became obvious that matchmaking between book and customer is both art and science—in this case I happened to know the books I was selling quite well, but to occupy that sweet spot between helpful and obtrusive was a wholly different challenge. When I convinced a browsing professor to purchase a novel I’d particularly loved, I was immoderately pleased. That she was already very likely interested in the subject I was peddling in no way diminished my sense of accomplishment. Other artisanal processes, like making cheese or crafting small batch whisky seem to be enjoying a renaissance, but hand-selling books, and the people who do it, ably and for real, are faring less well. Perhaps the book industry needs its own answer to the locovore movement. (Perhaps it’s out there—if yes, let me know).

Programs like B&N Discover and Borders Original Voices are efforts to scale up the hand-sell, and I like these programs immensely, but I note them professionally perhaps more than I respond to them personally. I’m curious to know how you all respond to them—ditto Amazon recommendations. Amazon’s ability to target my interests is undermined by the fact that I use the site as a research tool more often than I do to make purchases, but maybe you have better luck. Shelf talkers are great, but for me, nothing beats interested, widely read booksellers with whom I can speak; not only are they brilliant at suggesting books, they see the publishing industry from a perspective of the buyers who keep it alive. These days I’m particularly fond of New York’s Idlewild bookstore, which specializes in books on international themes—travel, world lit, etc.

But as I suspect is the case with many of you, indie bookshops have always had a special place in my heart. When I was growing up, each year, probably right about this time, my parents (both inveterate readers of nonfiction) would report to our local bookshop, where the owner would recommend a raft of novels that were just right for me. The stack that ended up beneath the tree, selected by Santa Claus, never disappointed. When, eventually I figured out that it was the bookstore owner and not St. Nick doing the selecting, it did not render the achievement any less magical. I was, however, crushed when the store closed (take that Virginia). Imaginary though he is, Santa’s position seems more secure than that of the independent bookseller, a figure whom I hope will not become a ghost of holidays past, as Jane touched on recently.