It’s no secret to anyone who follows me on Twitter (or works here or has seen me in the last couple weeks), that I’ve become completely addicted to a new podcast called Serial (serialpodcast.org). It’s a spin-off from This American Life, focused on one murder case and the possibly wrongful conviction of the victim’s ex-boyfriend, who has been in jail for 15 years. It unravels in thematic episodes, following the course of the investigation not quite in real time. The narrative arc of the “season” isn’t fully known to the producers, or wasn’t when it started airing at least, so those of us who are listening weekly with rapt attention have no idea where it will end up—or if there are even really satisfying answers to the questions it raises. I’m completely and totally hooked, and I’ve managed to get Sharon, Miriam, Michael, Jim, DGLM client Catherine Whitney, my mother, and many of my friends addicted, too.
So for today’s blog entry, a plea to you from me: I want to represent the book that feels like this podcast feels. I want that tension. I want that slow unfolding and conversational reportage. Fiction or nonfiction is fine, but I’m not looking for a run-of-the-mill mystery or true crime book. I want something that feels huge and also intimate. A book where every answer raises more questions and then explores all those paths looking for the truth. I want a book where I’m dying to get back to it and desperate for friends to read it to so we can talk about what we think is happening as we read. I want to be certain and then confounded and certain again and endlessly curious. I want something that grips me from the first sentence and maybe won’t ever let me go.
So if you’re the author of that book and you’re looking for an agent, please query me. And if you want to just talk about Serial, hit me up in the comments or on Twitter (@laurenabramo). (Though let’s try not to spoil it below for anyone who’s just diving in.)