Writing and Reading

What do I mean by ‘literary echo’, you ask? Another one of my funny expressions, right? You’re absolutely right. It is a funny expression. But one I make with sincerity, for it holds special meaning for me.

First, let’s define ‘echo’. So I’m looking at the Merriam Webster, defining echo, looking at all the different definitions. And I find that not only does it mean a ‘repetition’, but it’s also directly related to…. reflection.

So I look up reflection, and wouldn’t you know it–one of the definitions listed under this sub-word of the original word ‘echo’ is a “consideration of some subject matter, idea, or purpose.”

So we have echo, a ‘repetition’ of something involving a “subject matter, idea, or purpose”. And then we have ‘literary’. So now we have a repetition of something regarding a situation of literary means–such as a book.

A book that ‘echoes’.

See my logic? (No, you don’t, but that’s okay, ’cause I know I’m mental ).

Anyway, the reason why I bring up this philosophy of the legendary literary echo is to utterly dissolve the common paradigm that a literary agent really doesn’t remember certain manuscripts after a whole year or two.

It makes sense, you know? How many queries does a literary agent receive on a daily basis? Lots. So naturally one would deduce that it’s so hard for an agent to keep track of certain rejections. Our reasoning is that we can easily requery.

I have FIRM PROOF NOW…that the concept of requerying is DANGEROUS!

DANGEROUS, people. DANGEROUS! The literary echo hath spoken.

Here is the reason why:

I was having a conversation with my editor about the edits for the book when she mentioned that she was having a talk with a fellow colleague within the industry: a literary agent. Who shall remain nameless.

What made my ears perk was this particular agent actually had my submission about a year ago! The agent had rejected me, too. Agent shall remain nameless to protect the innocent. Sorry.

But here’s my point: my editor went on to specifically state how important it was to keep in mind that the story behind the submission, the premise, was what interested the agent aaaaaaaaaaaaaand…. WHAT MADE IT EASY TO REMEMBER after a whole year. The agent even remembered the name of my book.

I’ve heard the story time and time again about how a literary agent had to turn down a manuscript not because it wasn’t strong, but because it wasn’t time-effective. Simply put: “too much editing and too little time.” For an agent, it’s different. There’s not a whole lot of time to edit a manuscript to shop it to editors so that an editor can also edit it. It’s almost like beating a dead horse!

BUT…the agent liked my book. That was the key right there. That’s validation for me.

So next time you badger an agent with constant queries or write off an agent as being a brigant or a beast, unwilling to give you time to devote to your manuscript, give you a shot, give you a chance, think again.

That agent might’ve been banging his or her head on the desk, wishing he or she had all the time in the world to develop your wonderful idea into the masterpiece it’s meant to be.