You can submit direct to publishers, it’s true. In fact publishers may at first seem the more approachable. There are generally more of them, and they are more likely to be open for business as far as unsolicited manuscripts go. A lot of agents you talk to will tell you that they are, at that time, not looking to take on any new clients. All this and a percentage of the take, too. You might wonder why you should be making submissions to agents at all.

In an odd sort of way the common response from agencies is a reassuring thing. The reason they’re not looking around for fresh meat is that they’re spending their time working for their clients. If you become their client, then that will be you.

 

Also, remember this word “unsolicited” that keeps cropping up. A lot of publishers will use it as a reason for you not to even try them. So, should you refer the matter to your solicitors? In this case, the solicitor is your agent, and the publishers are using the agencies as a filter. If an agent is willing to vouch for it (1), then the publisher will take the time to look.

 

Finally, publishing is a large, old and idiosyncratic industry rife with pitfalls and pratfalls, and the agent will be intimately familiar with these. Your agent is your native guide through the often hostile jungles of the industry.

 

So, yes, my recommendation is: send submissions to agencies and get an agent if you can. This recommendation is based on the single principle of “worked for me” and I’m aware that my agent put in a lot of hard work on my behalf. If people gripe about the percentage, remember: (x)% of nothing is nothing. Your agent has all the incentive in the world to get the best deal physically possible for you. Moreover, your agent is likely to know all sorts of little tricks to help sales. Yours fates are inextricably entwined in a bizarre symbiosis (2). Of course, if a publisher picks you up, then an agent is likely to follow.

 

In summary:

 

You have picked your stretch of river. You have baited your hook. You make your cast and wait for the gaily-coloured float to bob. (3). What form will the bite take?

 

Well, what you are hoping to land is a nice letter saying: We’ve read your three chapters. Nobody actually died of eyestrain or boredom. We’re terribly short of firelighters. Why not send the rest of the book?

 

This is the equivalent of your expedition setting out from base camp, crampons and carabineers (4) at the ready, to make the first stage of the ascent. (5).

 

However, beware. Sometimes the little tug on your line that makes the float bob, or whateverthehell happens in fishing, is not quite the attention that you want. Sometimes, when you stand to reel the thing towards you, there is a sudden yank and you are in imminent danger of falling in (6).

 

Here be parasites. To be continued.

 

(1)   preferably over a well-oiled three-hour lunch

 

(2)   Of course, your agent has multiple clients, and you have but the one agent. I’d say multibiosis, but that just sounds like some healthy cereals or yoghurts are supposed to have. Polybiosis, on the other hand, sounds like a disease.

 

(3)   Or something. It’s rather a long time since I went fishing. I think floats were involved. Or that may have been swimming.

 

(4)   Or something. For my knowledge of mountaineering I refer the Honourable Gentleman to my previous statement on fishing. I’m of the opinion that a carabineer is some kind of buckle for climbing ropes, but it may be an Italian policeman.

 

(5)   No I’m not mixing metaphors. It’s an extreme fishing trip. 

 

(6)  And down the mountain.