You sign up to go to a writers conference. You’re excited to land an appointment with an agent you have always admired. You prepare eagerly for this appointment and you are nervous when you get there. This is your big chance, you think. Talking to a real live agent will open an elusive door for you. Even if the agent doesn’t ask to see your work, you have accomplished something.
What is wrong with this picture?
It’s a fallacy.
Anyone can sign up to talk to an agent or editor. These requests are not screened beforehand. And when you get your fifteen minutes, what do you think will happen? There is only so much that can happen, because as I have said many times, the proof is in the reading. If they ask to see your work, that is no guarantee that they will want to take it further. If they don’t ask to see your work, it’s not necessarily an indication that your work isn’t salable.
Now take a step back and ask yourself how a conference makes money, or at least breaks even. It’s expensive to put on a conference. Someone has to pay for the use of the hotel, the flights and hotel bills for invited speakers, the conference rooms and banquet halls, and for any meals that are provided. They get a nice bundle charging authors who want to attend. Part of that bundle is the chance to meet in person with an agent or editor.
In short, it’s how they attract people to attend their conference, regardless of what the results may be. The chance to meet with an industry professional is so alluring that authors don’t always stop to think what it will really mean for them.
I stopped doing appointments a long time ago, because in all the years I’ve been doing this, I found exactly one author who became a client, and whose books sold. That happened because I was seated at a luncheon table with about 6 aspiring authors, so I went around the table to inquire about what each author was working on. The last person was so far from me that I could barely hear him, so I moved over to sit next to him. Because it was a lunch with no time limit to how long we could talk, we were both able to relax.
He had a very appealing and salable idea, so I asked to see the manuscript. When I got it, I was immediately hooked. I offered representation, which he accepted, and before long we had our first sale.
It should always go like that, right? But it doesn’t. That story is the only time it has worked, at least for me.
Here’s what usually happens. The idea sounds off-market or just unappealing to me. Or it has been done many times before. Or it’s something I am quite sure will have a poor chance of selling. Or the author is so nervous that she writes her pitch down and then reads it to me, her hands shaking. When that happens, I gently take the paper out of her hand, and ask her to pretend she’s talking to a sister or a friend and just tell me her story. It’s awkward and painful when something like that happens. I don’t really care so much what you look like (unless you look terminally weird), or how your manners are (but do try to have some), or who you know, or what some editor said. All I care about is what’s on the page. I’m not going to sit there and read your manuscript in front of you, so the best we can do is to have a pleasant conversation and hope for the best.
A better way to meet industry professionals is to hang around the bar and the lobby where people congregate. Start conversations. Be friendly, but not overbearing. Talk about the weather or the airport or a new movie or a great restaurant in town. You don’t have to go barging around talking about yourself. Ease into it and let it happen gradually. I usually ask people what they are working on, which is a clear invitation. It’s one of the reasons we are there, after all, but I find it much more practical than a stilted, timed meeting. I have hooked up with plenty of authors that way, and it all felt quite natural.
So, if I were an author, I would make the best use of my time by schmoozing around and making myself available, being helpful, being assertive without being pushy, and being alert for opportunities. Don’t be scared. Be friendly. “Do you need an extra chair?” Or “May I join you?” are a lot better than horning in on a private conversation or sitting there hoping someone will notice you.
None of this means you shouldn’t make that appointment. You never know what might happen. Just recognize it for its real purpose and have reasonable expectations.
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