It just must have been the day for it. I heard the same question so many times today that I started to wonder if I was in Groundhog Dog or if someone was just messing with me.
Every second person wanted to be introduced to a literary agent (one in four wanted to be introduced to a publisher). Some gentle questioning revealed that in most cases, none of them had actually written anything. Not a short story, not a paragraph, not an article for the local paper or the Girl Guides’ monthly newsletter – certainly not a novel. Cart meet horse.
Having given a lecture today on balancing your work life and your creative life, and having done a large chunk of talking about planning, setting goals, task lists and actually achieving things (helped muchly by Jeff VanderMeer’s Booklife), I kind of took exception to this. I mean, it’s lovely to have decided on the spur of the moment to ‘become’ a writer. It’s cute that some people seem to think it’s (a) easy and (b) the path to instant fame and fortune. But as someone who has devoted a lot of time and energy to learning and improving my craft, and who has made a lot of sacrifices in the past five years to be a writer, it annoyed me to deal with people who were (a) ill-informed, (b) didn’t know that they were ill-informed, and (c) had a sense of entitlement.
Here’s an idea: write first. Build a publications list and a profile/platform. Earn the right to look for an agent. An agent is looking for a book to sell on your behalf – if you don’t have a book, what can you possibly bring to the deal? A sense of entitlement ain’t gonna cut it – a trap for young players, I know. Calling yourself a writer, deciding to be a writer, does not necessarily make you a writer – as is said in Throw Momma From The Train ‘A writer writes’. Go write something, then talk to me. Prove you can do it.
It’s like the Far Side cartoon: pants first, then shoes. Write first, then find agent.
Sadly, I know this is a job for you. It’s unfortunate. Because I have stock reply for people these days, when they come up and tell me that they think they might like to write a novel. It goes like this.
“So. You think you might be a writer? You want to write a novel?”
“Yes. I’ve got this great idea…”
“Ah. Listen, before you tell me your idea, I’d just like to ask one quick question, if that’s okay.”
“Uhh… sure. Go ahead.”
“Can you imagine spending the rest of your life without ever writing that novel? Can you envision a happy, healthy existence in which you don’t put that story down on paper?”
(At this point, they frown and look kind of curious. And to date, 100% of the people who have brought up this discussion with me have answered the same way.)
“Well — yeah, sure. I guess so. I suppose I could live without writing it.”
“Great. Have a really nice life.”
(And then I go somewhere else. Rapidly.)
You are wise.