Let’s get this out of the way: I’m obsessed with awards shows. And not just the big ones like the Oscars and Emmys. I’m the guy watching the SAG Awards on Bravo, the Independent Spirit Awards, the Tony’s, the Emmy’s, the Golden Globes. If there’s a trophy, I’m there. I was in the audience (okay, I was working the event) when Jonathan Franzen snagged the National Book Award for THE CORRECTIONS (a very just victory), and Arthur Miller received a lifetime achievement award. I’m the kind of person who still remembers with an unfortunate degree of anguish that Leaving Las Vegas didn’t even get nominated for the Best Picture Oscar the year that Braveheart won. So when I caught on that Powell’s and The Morning News were doing a Tournament of Books to coincide with March Madness, let’s just say I found a new favorite website.

Starting with 32 books from 2006, each title was pitted against one other for single round eliminations as judged by a small panel of random literary types. This went on until there were two semi-finalists. Now, two eliminated titles will be brought back for a second chance. Then, once down to two finalists, all of the judges will have to pick between them to crown one ultimate victor.

Looking over the initial list of contenders, I realized that I had only read two of the books so far. An anemic showing at best. There are a bunch of authors whose previous work I’ve read (I’ll get to your new one soon, Richard Ford!), and some of the novels are already in my piles to read at home. This is to say, I don’t have a favorite in this contest. There is, however, one novel on the list that everyone seems to love, and I happen to…well, let’s say, dislike.

When something receives universal acclaim, I often manage to find a way to hate it. I’m the schmuck who couldn’t stand Lost in Translation and who couldn’t fall in love with Loretta Lynn’s Van Lear Rose. I have to wonder if it’s me being unintentionally contrarian, or if maybe, just maybe, my opinions are actually defensible. Which brings me, nervously, to THE ROAD.

Everyone loves THE ROAD. It has sailed through the rounds of the Tournament of Books, eviscerating the competition and garnering praise aplenty. In case you haven’t read it, here’s a synopsis: guy and his son walk down a post-apocalyptic road dodging cannibals. The End. Sure, the writing is terse and impressive. I can really, really picture the grey. And the ash. And the burnt logs. And the grey. Cormac McCarthy is a superb writer. With THE ROAD, he jotted down a brilliant short story. A very, very overlong short story. Philosophical musings? Check. Interesting thinking points? Sure. Sleep inducing? Ding ding ding! For a book that people have described as “riveting,” I sure couldn’t wait for it to be over.

But here’s the thing: I feel guilty for not liking it. Critics seems so often to focus on what books are unworthy or unaccomplished that I feel bad about raining on the parade of something so well liked. It makes me want to shout out the names of popular books that I thought were worthy of every bit of their praise (THE PLOT AGAINST AMERICA!) if only because so much writing about literature seems focused on the negatives. This leaves me with questions: Does all of the carping about bad books make people more likely to search out the good stuff? Or does it just discourage people from reading at all?

And we’re back at the Tournament of Books. We’re a competitive people. And by we, I mean me. I love to see winners and losers. I’m inspired by competition in a strange, some might say sadistic, way. Since I’ve never developed an affinity for sports (besides the Olympics…don’t get me started), I enjoy watching competitions involving things I care about: movies, books, theater, America’s potential next top models…you know: the arts. But what role does that competition really serve? SLAUGHTERHOUSE-FIVE is still one of my three favorite books, even if it did lose the 1970 National Book Award to THEM by Joyce Carol Oates. Can the arts, particularly the literary arts, be judged fairly in the moment? More importantly, how should they be judged at all?

I’ll be following these last rounds of the Tournament of Books eagerly, hoping for THE ROAD to fall by the wayside, but I’m probably not the better for it. I’ll give the tournament judges this: plenty seem to go about the task playfully, whether acknowledging that they’re scared of AGAINST THE DAY’S thousand-plus pages or that their decisions ultimately came down to matters of personal preference and not quality.

Having not come around to much of a point, I leave anyone reading with this: does it make sense to pit books against each other? Do literary awards make sense?

UPDATE: Apparently, Oprah selected THE ROAD for her next bookclub book. I wasn’t tipped off. Just a totally random coincidence.

People always ask me what my day is like. I often respond by saying that it’s nothing but e-mail and phone, which is only somewhat true. It’s a long, tiring, very rewarding day, and I hope this provides some insight.

6:30 AM: Wake up. Feed cat. Shower, shave, dress. (Pray to get the order right at early hour.)

7:22 AM: Leave house to catch 7:30 C train (no, subways don’t technically run on schedules, but the C train only comes once every 10 minutes during rush hour, and it happens to come on the 30-minute mark).

8:00 AM: Arrive at Starbucks. Purchase “Grande” mild coffee (iced during the summer).

8:10 AM: Arrive at work. Log into computer, remove reading from previous evening and sort into “reject,” “request more,” “offer representation,” “get another read,” or “do editorial letter” piles. Check news.

8:10 – 8:30 AM: Read the news. Look for stories that would make great book ideas, either fiction or nonfiction.

8:30 – 9:00 AM: Morning meeting. The whole staff gets together each morning to go over business. We discuss where we are on projects (Do you need a writer? Is money due? Did the editor get back to you about bound galleys?), ask Jane and each other for advice, generate book ideas, and discuss news items.

9:00 – 10:00 AM: Respond to all the e-mails I received the previous night. There are often many from the West Coast, as they’re still going when we leave for the day. Also, since writing isn’t the primary employment for most authors, it’s the only time they have to correspond. And, many writers don’t seem to sleep. Really guys, sleep is good!

10:00 – 10:30 AM: Take care of any other author correspondence: contracts, amendments, agency agreements, editorial letters, royalty statements and more.

10:30 – 11:30 AM: Return phone calls and make follow-up calls on proposals and manuscripts on submission. This is when we find out that someone is very interested in a project. Hopefully.

11:30 AM – 12:30 PM: Put together and submit new material. Make any calls associated with the new submission that I didn’t make earlier.

12:30 – 2:00 PM – Lunch with an editor. This is our chance to meet new editors and catch up with old friends. The agent lunch seems to mystify those who aren’t in publishing, but I find it a necessary, important and enjoyable part of the job. The book business, for all the analyzing of numbers that we do, is still very subjective, and it’s often at these lunches that I get a real sense of someone’s taste. It’s when I learn that the editor who typically does political nonfiction also loves anything to do with cats and can acquire whatever he wants. Books are often sold to unlikely editors based on such information.

(When I don’t have a lunch, I take this time to read through blogs looking for book ideas or gossip, or a recap of the America’s Next Top Model episode that I missed.)

2:00 PM – 3:00 PM: Return the calls and e-mails from lunch time. Check Gawker and Galleycat to make sure no one was fired while I was out, which could change where I send that proposal I packaged in the morning.

3:00 PM – 4:00 PM: Open mail and review e-queries. There is a lot of mail coming in, and even more e-mail these days. It takes this long to review all the material and request what looks interesting.

4:00 – 5:00 PM: Go back to checking client e-mail and answering calls. This is the busiest time of day for phone calls, as everyone’s looking for information before the close of business.

5:00 – 6:30ish PM – Wrap up the day. Print out any reading for the evening, get together any material to review contracts, make last minute and West Coast phone calls. Some nights, have a drink with an editor or author who’s in town.

6:30 – 7:15: Train ride home. This is when I get to read for pleasure! Right now I’m reading Pop! by Aury Wallington, which a client gave me. I also read magazines and newspapers during this time.

7:15 PM – 9 PM: Feed cat. Eat. Watch DVR’ed TV.

9 PM – Whenever is necessary: Read and edit proposals and manuscripts. Vet contracts. Write and revise submission letters and create submission lists. Sometimes there’s also e-mail and phone calls.

Honestly, an agent’s work is never done. It’s difficult, frustrating and can make for a very boring social life. It’s a good thing that I love my job (and didn’t have a social life,to begin with).

We’ve all heard the theory that it is important to know about history because we can learn from it and use what happened in the past to make our future better. I wish that were true in my world of book publishing.

I often find myself thinking back to when I began in this business and what it was like at that time. There is so much that is different today, I couldn’t write about all of it in a single blog. But I thought I would try to examine the role of the editor then and now – and then, perhaps in future postings, I will cover other areas of the business I love so much.

When I entered publishing, there were two kinds of editors, the ones who acquired books from authors and their agents and those who actually did the editing. Sometimes one person took on both roles.

There was no such thing as multiple submissions in those days. Agents submitted proposals or manuscripts to editors one at a time, rather than to 10 or 20 editors simultaneously. Authors, with agents or not, sent manuscripts in to those editors whose job it was to read and crossed their fingers that their work would be picked up. Advances compared to where they are today, were incredibly low, but there were other ways the author could earn money in the process.

An editor was assigned to the manuscript and that person worked with the author on making the book the best it could be editorially. Sometimes this took a very long time, but in those days, the quality of the final book was of utmost importance to everyone involved and so whatever time was needed was taken. I remember hearing famous stories of editors tearing manuscripts by bestselling writers apart and literally helping to put them back together again so that the story being told became stronger and more commercial.

The editor was also the in-house advocate for the author and the book. It was the editor who presented the book to the rights department, who would then go on to sell serial rights, book club rights, reprint rights and if the author and publisher were really lucky, movie rights.

In those days serial rights were sold for many thousands of dollars. Hearing about a first serial sale of $25,000.00 to $30,000.00 wasn’t all that unusual. And there were lively auctions for magazine rights, very exciting auctions too. Magazines like Ladies Home Journal, McCalls, and Woman’s Day competed for the top women’s interest books – both fiction and non fiction. Esquire and Playboy, among others, vied for the men’s market. And publications like Reader’s Digest paid thousands of dollars for the general interest rights of many books.

The two major books clubs – Book-of-the-Month Club and The Literary Guild were also often in auctions to acquire the book club rights for top authors. Not being a book club pick was a serious “black mark” in an author’s track record.

And then there were the paperback reprint houses where the editors “covered” various hardcover houses and where the big auctions at the time really happened with several paperback houses bidding against each other. Those were very exciting times with books like LOVE STORY and JONATHAN LIVINGSTON SEAGULL, THE GODFATHER and the novels of Judith Krantz going for several hundred thousand dollars.

The role of the editor at the reprint houses was simply that of an acquirer. Since the books were already written and edited, their job was simply to identify those with mass market sales potential and buy them. Sometimes, in the case of noted bestselling authors where the acquisition price was going to be very high, paperback editors would join with their hardcover counterpart to buy the package rights of the book initially. This happened with JAWS which was published by Doubleday in hardcover and Bantam Books in mass market paperback. And, occasionally the paperback publisher would buy the rights to the book from the author’s agent and sell them back to the hardcover publisher. I know there were numerous instances of this between William Morrow and Bantam and I am sure it happened elsewhere as well.

In those days, the editor was “king.” Their taste and their work were respected and they headed up most of the hardcover publishing houses. “Sales” and “rights” were next, followed by “publicity” and the other business areas of the company.

Today, editors simply don’t enjoy the status they once did at their publishing houses. Their opinions are listened to, I suspect, but far more important are the opinions of the sales and marketing staff and what the financial people say about the value of the material submitted. There are those editors who still fight passionately for their authors, but I find that, for the most part, most of them are beaten down by their colleagues who really don’t respect their editorial wisdom.

So, I ask myself what we can learn today from our history in this business? My answer is that we have to try to change the status of the editor within the publishing house. Without his or her skills, the quality of the books we produce will continue to diminish. Editors have to be given the time to properly care for the books they acquire (for today, of course the editor does both acquisition and editing); they can no longer be responsible just for acquiring these manuscripts, they must more fully help their authors realize their total potential.

It is my sincere hope that those currently heading up publishing houses will take better care of those in charge of their important “products,” the manuscripts upon which their bottom line depends. Without these, it doesn’t matter who is distributing and or how strong the promotion is, there will be no business for our future generations to look back on. Editors must be respected, encouraged and promoted so that they can better do their job and so that all of us can continue to do ours.

In light of Lauren’s recent post about our bookclub, we thought it might be fun to visit the ghosts of book clubs past. You’ll find that our opinions are strong. We’re a love it or hate it kind of crowd.

Despite winning the Booker Prize, Miriam still thought one novel was “a cynical smirk of a narrative. Its only saving grace, in my opinion, is the fact that, at under 200 pages, it’s only briefly painful. As I put this down with a sigh of relief for the last time, it occurred to me that the only thing worse than a bad book by a bad writer is a bad book by a good writer.”

Taking on another award winner that fell short of expectations, Miriam noted that “this could have been a great piece of fiction, but like endless foreplay that goes nowhere, it’s just a quiet disappointment.”

One blogger turned novelist received a ton of buzz for their debut, but Jim thought it was “Trash. This may not be the worst book I ever read, but it is the worst that I have ever finished.”

Michiko Kakutani loved it. Michael Bourret didn’t. “I hated this book. Trite, shallow, and without any intelligent commentary. At least it was short. I wallowed through quickly, hoping that there would be a moment of clarity or interest. There wasn’t.”

It was pitched as the modern Great Gatsby. Let’s just say that Stacey disagreed. “Hated it. Hated everything about it. The characters are rich, privileged, and pretentious. Their shallow musings and fervent banter never lead to much, other than a supposedly tragic ending. This fell way short of my expectations.”

For one book club, we read galleys for books publishers were really excited about that would be coming out the following season. Excitement, as Lauren points out, is not always contagious. “Accomplished? I suppose. Charming? At times. Tedious? Oh, yeah!”

We didn’t let up when we took on favorite books of our colleagues. One agent felt it was the best book of the past five years. Another thought the author was “given to overthinking his characters’ motivations and painting them into dramatic corners. The protagonist’s precociousness grows wearisome. He’s like the kid always with his hand up in the air in class – the one you want to smack and tell to shut up. The ending of the novel feels unsatisfying and overly arch and some of the big moments veer into melodrama.”

When she took the time to read a recent novel that garnered a lot of attention and a mid-six figure offer, Jane’s reaction was as balanced and thoughtful as we all try to be. “This definitely had aspirations of becoming the next The Da Vinci Code. It is original and very well researched. It is also incredibly confusing. An early review called the plot ‘sinuous,’ which it certainly is—and in my opinion, not in a good way. There were no characters here I really cared about—none I really got to know. Having said that, I am a sucker for this kind of thing—the juxtaposition of fact and fiction, very well done. Still, I didn’t personally love this. It just wasn’t as good as the hype made it out to be. In the end, idealist that I am, I do believe that if the book ‘isn’t there,’ especially for a first novel with these high expectations, it isn’t going to work.”

Sometimes we fall head over heels for something. Michael said, “It’s a rare novel that captures both the imagination and the heart, and The Line of Beauty is one of them. Written with a sly wit and a keen eye, this epic meditation on wealth, power, class, sexuality, politics and beauty is truly a masterpiece.”

Stacey really enjoyed Lucinda Rosenfeld’s What She Saw, saying, “I loved this book because I could relate to so much in it. Rosenfeld’s writing is accessible, simple and smart, and her style is breezy and light. She doesn’t wow you with extraordinary prose, but her characters and story are effective and memorable. She also has an uncanny ability to describe simple details with humor and flair. It’s a fun read, with a very likable protagonist.”

With The Hours, Miriam found an award winner that she did admire. “Mr. Cunningham is a lovely writer who finds his way into his characters’ souls and makes the drama he finds within universal and poignantly human. Virginia Woolf would have applauded.”

Jim fell for Dennis Lehane’s first book during the mystery bookclub. “The protagonist’s brazenly un-P.C. views on ‘white rage’ and what causes it are at times a bit unnerving, but they never feel less than honest. Dark, moody, and aggressively paced, A Drink before the War is a detective novel rank with intelligence and soul.”

And sometimes we’re so effusive that it sounds like we’re trying to sell the things. “A novel of incredible scope, daring vision, and dazzling prose, Arthur Phillips’s Prague is, quite simply, an incredible achievement.”

We’ve mentioned a few times that one important aspect of the business of writing is understanding your category. Of course, writers aren’t the only ones who need to keep abreast of the trends and fluxes in the marketplace. As agents, it’s important that we have a good sense of what’s out there—what’s working, what’s not, what might be coming down the pipeline, and who’s publishing what books and why. We’d love to be familiar with every book that an author or editor might mention to us, but with the phone calls to make, e-mails to answer, submissions to send out, contracts to vet, and towering piles to read, it sometimes feels like trying to keep up with the market is a Sisyphean task.

Still, we here at DGLM take a good stab at it through regular book club meetings. Sometimes, like a traditional book club, we all read the same book and come back to talk about it. On other occasions, we all read different books that have something in common: recent bestsellers, forthcoming books with a lot of buzz, paranormal romance, etc. After we’ve all read our selections, we convene to pitch the books to the group, talk about where we thought they succeeded and failed, report on how well they’re doing, and ultimately, try to assess whether we would have recognized them for the saleable projects they turned out to be if they’d shown up in the slush piles. Hopefully the answer is yes, but sometimes we have to admit that we’d have missed out on a great opportunity.

For our most recent book club, we all read Diane Setterfield’s The Thirteenth Tale. It inspired a lively discussion of what we liked and didn’t about this particular book, but it also lead us into a conversation about the trend toward the co-opting of classics for new material. Setterfield isn’t the only one mining our literary heritage to great success, and we only need to look at the scores of Jane Austen updates to see that.

Sometimes, if we’re really lucky, book club turns out to be great exposure to a market that we didn’t know we’d love. Thanks to Jim’s suggestion of paranormal romance for one of our book clubs, I’m now a big fan of a category I hadn’t read before.

On the best occasions, book club books are passed around after the meeting, with everyone jumping to read something that got a glowing report from one of our colleagues. They can be a great source of recommendations for reading for pleasure, which we try to do as often as we can—though, as most people in publishing can probably attest—not nearly as often as we’d like.

Sadly, the books we read are sometimes universally disappointing, and, snarky bunch that we are, book club becomes a time for sharing the honest truth about the dreadful material we’ve slogged through. For one book club before my time, I’m told that everyone so hated their books that many couldn’t even bring themselves to finish them

One of the most entertaining book clubs we’ve had in my time here was when we were charged with coming up with a book published in the last ten years that had left a lasting impact. We then drew out of a hat to read someone else’s choice and were reminded just how subjective the reading process can be. Not ones to sugarcoat our literary opinions, the book club reports were as funny as they were harsh, and no one’s favorite was left completely unscathed. It was a valuable experience both because we expanded our literary horizons and because we got a better sense of each other as readers—which is helpful in knowing just who to pass along a manuscript to if we think it’s got potential but just don’t love it.

Book club expands our understanding of the market and helps us to keep abreast of what’s out there. It forces us to really think about our selection process and challenges us to evaluate whether or not we’re likely to miss out on something that can really work.

Also, it’s just plain entertaining, and after a long day of phone calls, emails, submissions, contracts and reading piles, it’s nice to sit down to some good honest literary critique, with a healthy side of snark.

Every so often I receive a query letter from a writer that begins with something like: “I see that you have a background in film production, and I think my manuscript would make a terrific movie.” Understandably, many writers start seeing dollar signs at the mere mention of their books being optioned for film. But while it is smart to keep an open mind about film rights, it is a mistake to write your book for both the publishing world and Hollywood.

For one thing, producers and literary agents focus on different things when evaluating whether or not to take on a project. Producers are often drawn to screenplays that can be summarized in a concise logline, one sentence that describes the entire story in a straightforward and uncomplicated manner. If a story cannot be summed up in one sentence, a filmmaker might assume that it is too complex for the mere two hour span they have to communicate the story. There are certain things that an author can spend time on that a screenwriter cannot. Time constraints may limit a screenwriter from delving into a character’s back story. In order to leave room for development, there are usually a limited number of central characters in the story (this also makes casting easier). And budget constraints can limit the number of locations in which scenes can occur.

As an agent, I value concise and well-written query letters, but I’m not able determine my interest in a book after reading a one-sentence description. Authors have fewer limitations when writing, and that is something to take advantage of. There are less constraints preventing a writer from having their story take place anywhere or anyhow they want.

For me, the film version of THE DA VINCI CODE exemplifies the possible limitations when adapting a book into a movie. The most fascinating aspects of THE DA VINCI CODE were the complex back story, various conspiracies and numerous people involved in the murder mystery. If Dan Brown had been writing his book for the sole purpose of getting it made into a movie, he might have left out all of the wonderful detail that made his book so popular. You should always write the book for the reader, not to impress a producer. If your book is as successful as Dan Brown’s, it is highly probable that it will be optioned for film anyway (even if it is not entirely suited for that kind of treatment, and in my opinion THE DA VINCI CODE was not).

One of my favorite things about a good book is the ability to enter the mind of the narrator and hear his or her thoughts. Movies use voice-overs to achieve this purpose and I find that they are an overused and often trite device. While it is true that some books do not interest producers because too much of the narrative takes place inside the protagonist’s head, it would be a shame if authors consistently chose action packed scenes over character development in order to make the material more viable for film.

Of course, we’ll always work with authors to make sure the appropriate producers see the material we represent. But I do advise writers to focus on getting their masterpiece into a bookstore and put their grand plans for feature film on hold until they are published.

I hate it when I’m wrong. My type-A tendencies and absolute certainty that I know everything are not a good combination when it comes to taking criticism. Soon after I started working with Jane Dystel (sometime in the Paleozoic Era) she pointed out to me that my editorial memos were mean. I was affronted. I was trying to help authors by giving them the benefit of my brilliant insights and I really didn’t have time to soft-soap my comments! I’m sure Jane was laughing internally when she suggested that maybe I should start my missives with a positive comment or two about the work and then offer my honest opinion in a thoughtful, sensitive way without showing off or trying to make the recipient feel like a no-talent slob. She was right, of course, and I learned that if the goal is to have an author improve his/her work, I needed to be nicer when I offered my feedback. Jane made me realize that we are more likely to digest and respond well to criticism if it’s offered with kindness and sensitivity rather than relish and disdain. It was, for me, an invaluable lesson.

The fact is that a big and important part of our job as agents is to offer constructive criticism that will take a proposal or manuscript to the level it needs to be at in order to maximize our chances of selling it. All of us here at DGLM spend a great deal of time on our clients’ projects helping authors to clearly communicate their message, smooth over rough prose, beef up a weak marketing section, etc. Sometimes, it’s our unpleasant task to tell someone that their work is simply not good enough and that no amount of fixing is going to change that.

In my experience, the best, most talented authors are the ones who take their criticism neat. They knock it back with a big gulp, thank you for your time and effort in reviewing and critiquing their materials, take a little while to process what you’ve told them, and do their best to incorporate your comments and suggestions into that piece of fiction or nonfiction they thought was perfect when they sent it in to you with the expectation that you’d be able to immediately sell it for six figures. These authors put their egos and bruised pride aside (no matter how successful they are) and get to work. They ask follow-up questions and evenly discuss why they think they might or might not agree with one or more of your edits. The result, more often than not, is a much improved proposal or manuscript that has a much better shot at the big time and an author who is genuinely grateful for the help.

Then there are those authors who never get past their anger and disappointment and whose reactions range from the merely childish, “I’m taking my marbles and going elsewhere,” to the unprofessional, “You suck and you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Recently, an author suggested that both his editor (someone who’d been successfully plying her craft for over a decade) and I were mistaken in our critique of his work, strongly implying that neither one of us had understood his category well enough to be able to comment intelligently on his novel. His words were offensive in a way that our criticism had not been. We were both trying to help him.

I sincerely believe that authors (or any artist for that matter) must be able to defend their vision of and approach to their work. But, they should also have the ability (and humility) to look at the manuscript they’ve slaved away on for months or years and see it as a living, evolving thing that is never going to be absolutely perfect and that will probably benefit from an informed and caring review. They should also understand that in this agent/client partnership it’s in no one’s interest to purposely give bad advice and that only a sadist takes pleasure in inflicting pain. Over the years, I’ve come to the conclusion that knowing how to take criticism with grace is an indicator of success in our business. It’s often what separates those who have thriving writing careers and those who just sit around darkly muttering over their rejection letters.

Almost twenty years after that enlightening conversation with Jane, I’ve figured out that I don’t, in fact, know everything, and so I rely on instinct, experience, my skills as a lifelong, passionate reader, and hard-earned knowledge of our business when I offer authors criticism of their work. The whole point is to sell their novel or nonfiction and to set them on the path to successful writing careers. Ultimately, we, as agents, don’t succeed unless our clients do.

I’ve been to a dozen or so writers’ conferences over the past few years. A lot of attendees ask why I go. It’s a fair question. We’re not hurting for submissions. That week when I get back and find one or two dozen partial and full manuscripts? That week is rough. But the fact of the matter is that we have a good track record finding new talent at the conferences. Besides that, given how much misinformation floats around, I like being able to answer people’s questions honestly and put a face to the concept of an agent. And an excuse for random travel!

All conferences are not created equal, though. Many are geared exclusively to beginners. Some are kept purposefully small to keep advice and information targeted. Others are sprawling events with an impressive breadth of information available. And then, of course, there are those specifically geared to a particular genre. Given the amount of cash you’re often asked to lay out for these events, it’s worth doing some research to find out which are worth attending for your specific needs. Whether you’re trying to figure out how this crazy industry works, you want to workshop your erotica, or you need a class on how to handle taxes as an author, there is something out there for you. Check out the websites for a bunch of writers’ groups and see if they run their own events or if the members often go to the same conferences. You can usually find someone to drop a line and see if they can answer some questions about a particular event’s quality and specialties.

If you’re attending a conference to pitch your project, let me share a few pointers from the other side of the table:

Many of us are nice. So try not to worry too much. I know, you can’t help but be nervous, but the worst we can do is say we’re not interested in something. We probably won’t insult the work or put you down. You want your project to be front and center in our minds—not the fact that you can’t stop sweating.

Plan what you want to say, but don’t over-rehearse! The scripted pitch is awkward. Chances are you’re still nervous, so you’re going to sound stiff or drop a line. Approach it like a conversation, which is what it should be.

Don’t pitch in the bathroom! No one (seriously, no one) wants to be pitched when they have no means of egress. There is NOTHING more horrifying than a manuscript under a stall door except for maybe a pitch at a urinal. It has happened. It was not pretty.

Be polite. Sounds easy, no? Try explaining that to the woman who opened her pitch to me with, “So how long have you been in publishing. I mean, obviously you’re no spring chicken, but…” I have no idea what she said after that. None. But I do know that my next pitch started with, “You seriously looked like you were going to hit that lady.” Of the two, you can guess whose manuscript I asked for.

But don’t be too polite. A lot of us are from New York. If you’re overly friendly, we might get scared. For example: someone once asked if I wanted a mint. I declined. She offered me a bottle of water. There was a pitcher on the table. She offered me hot chocolate. No joke. At this point, she opened her bag which had enough snacks and beverages (including thermoses of tea and coffee) to feed the entire conference. I know she meant well. I do. But…kinda creepy, no?

Long story short: you can get a lot out of conferences if you choose wisely. Maybe you’ll get an agent. Maybe you’ll get some good writing tips. I’ve heard lots of success stories (and horror stories) from industry types. Anyone out there have a fantastic or terrible conference story?

I miss Judith Regan already. I know, I know, we publishing folk can’t stop talking about her. In an industry that’s fairly quiet, this has been a pretty interesting year or so: James Frey admitting on Oprah that he wasn’t quite who he said he was; Kaavya Viswanathan “internalizing” Megan McCafferty’s words and using them as her own. But neither of those scandals really lived up to the Judith Regan-O.J. Simpson fiasco. Only Ms. Regan could come out on top of that heap, even if for all the wrong reasons.

Full disclosure: I’ve never met, nor do I believe I’ve ever spoken with, Ms. Regan. So it’s not really her I miss. What I miss is her presence in the industry which we all felt, if not from her in person then from her books.

With ReganBooks gone, there are many questions: Who else is going to do WWE books? Who’s going to sign the O.J.s of the world (don’t pretend you weren’t at least a little bit curious about that one!)? How else will I know if a book project, no matter how off-color the subject matter, is destined to be a bestseller? Remember, Judith Regan made Jenna Jameson, porn star, a bestselling writer. How many publishers have that claim to fame? Porn not your thing? How about true crime? Ms. Regan published no less than three Scott Peterson books in eight weeks, and all three made the New York Times Bestseller List. Don’t like that either? How about some well-received fiction? Wally Lamb’s She’s Come Undone and I Know This Much Is True were both bestsellers and Oprah Book Club Picks. As she herself was quoted as saying in her Vanity Fair profile: “Every f****** time we do something prestigious, they overlook us. But God forbid we do a piece of s*** … ” She’s got a point.

On the same day that the now infamous O.J. Simpson book was announced, there was a good, but rather overshadowed, piece of news for ReganBooks. Jess Walter’s The Zero was named a finalist for the National Book Awards, a competition that is usually associated with highbrow publishers like Knopf and Farrar, Straus & Giroux. I think that this was, by far, the best example of the dichotomy that was ReganBooks; Ms. Regan courted both controversy and acclaim equally well.

It would be an understatement to say that many people found Judith Regan difficult. We’ve all heard the horror stories, and the publishing world is eager to read former-Regan staffer Bridie Clark’s roman-a-clef Because She Can, that doesn’t exactly include a flattering portrait. But, while her office was known as a revolving door, there were many people who were in it for the long haul and made names for themselves while there. Agents have their own stories about the difficulties of negotiating with her (again, I do not), but I don’t think many of them actually stopped submitting to ReganBooks; Judith’s track record was just too good for that.

ReganBooks published a startling number of successful titles — both commercially and critically successful titles. I think the statistics demonstrate Ms. Regan’s biggest asset: her gut. She got it right more than most publishers, and she always seemed to know what the public wanted. Yes, that sometimes meant appealing to the least common denominator, but in this business, our goal is to sell books. And that’s what she did.

In the end, for me, it was especially sad to see the ReganBooks imprint dismantled; getting rid of her name I understand, but why get rid of the imprint itself? Though I’m not sure the beast would have survived without its head, I’d like to think that a new one would have grown in its place, and the tradition of renegade publishing would have continued.

Agents have a tough row to hoe. It is our job, of course, to give good news. But just as often, unfortunately, we also have to give bad news. And often, quite often, when the news is bad, we, as the messengers are blamed for it.

Years ago I remember I had an author who ultimately had a huge bestseller. I, however, represented him at the beginning of his career and handled his first three books. Each book sold less well than the one before and in each case, because of this, we had to switch publishers. Finally, he fired me and went on to a new agent. Soon after, I was having lunch with one of his former editors who said to me, “Of course, he had to fire you; he had fired each of his previous publishers and when that didn’t work, he had to blame you for his bad sales – there was nowhere else to go.”

Authors should really think about what we are saying to them when we bring bad news; I for one am trying very hard to be constructive as I passionately believe that when we are turned down or when a book doesn’t sell, oftentimes there is an important lesson to be learned.

I am very persistent when it comes to submitting my clients’ work; there are many cases where I go to as many as 35 or 40 editors to find a buyer. But when I don’t, I usually come around to feeling there is a valid reason why the book hasn’t sold; and it is constructive to find that reason and either deal with it or put the proposal aside and go on to something new. (I always tell my clients that when they become bestselling authors, they can go back to that other project and sell it for lots of money.)

When a book doesn’t sell, it is totally inappropriate to blame the agent as so many authors do. We are on the author’s side – if only because when they do well, we do well. I care deeply about the writing careers of each and every one of my clients and when I am blamed for their projects not selling either to a publisher or in the marketplace or when I am blamed for the advance not being high enough, it is incredibly discouraging.

Authors select their agents carefully, I hope, getting recommendations from other authors, looking us up online, etc. Once they’ve landed an agent, they need to trust us more and understand that we really do have their best interests at heart as well as the professional experience to guide them through the process.

Many years ago, a young man came to me with a novel I liked a lot. We tried to sell it and failed; he then presented another and again we tried and again we failed. But he and we learned from each of these experiences and he is now finishing the last novel in his second three-book deal. Of course this willingness to absorb and learn from what seems to be bad news has helped him to grow in his career.

The purpose of this blog is to ask authors to think before they shoot. We agents are trying our best to help you grow in your careers. Please listen to us, know we care, and trust that we are doing our very best.