When I paid for the agent critique at the recent SCBWI Middle of the Map conference, I wondered if I was wasting my money.
I sent in a one-page synopsis, my first ten pages, and fifty bucks for the opportunity to chat for ten minutes with Barry Goldblatt, YA literary agent extraordinaire. As excited as I was about the whole thing, my skeptic’s brain told me he’d have to be pretty quick mentally and verbally for me to get my fifty bucks worth. He was. Without going into all the soul-crushing and yet enlightening details, let me tell you something every single pre-published author needs to hear: THEY KNOW! If you don’t have a 110% grasp on your character, even in ten pages, they know. If you chose the POV based on what you think sells best and not on what best fits the story you want to tell, they know. If you had pulled out every last hair in your head trying to come up with a perfect plot twist for the last three months with no success and then suddenly, brilliantly it came to you at the last second just before you had to submit your one-page synopsis, so you added it to said synopsis, thinking this wise king of literary agents would weep for joy at your cleverness, but three days later you realized it was the most cliche thing you’ve ever written--they know. I’m not sure I have the linguistic ability to tell you how creeped out I was when he basically questioned everything I was struggling with in this story. It’s like he’d been living in my head. Let me be clear, I did not send a first draft. These first pages had been rewritten, beta-read, polished, and edited. Even so, it was true. I didn’t quite have a complete grasp on my main character. I thought, however, the voice and the fun premise would buff out that flaw. While I did receive high marks for voice and premise, I didn’t sit down with Mr. Goldblatt for praise. I wanted critique-- brutal, honest, helpful critique. And that’s exactly what he delivered with a side of laughter and a few F bombs. Yep, this was a guy who spoke my language. In fact, at the end of my ten minute critique, I was ready to pack up, go home, and get to work. What more could I learn from a conference that Mr. Goldblatt had not told me in those few moments. Not only had I received expert insight and perspective on my WIP, but also on YA in general. I didn’t go home, though. I stayed. I had to. I was there with my critique partner, and she wasn’t all that excited about the idea of having to Uber the two-and-a-half hours home after the conference. And yet with all the conference notes and knowledge, I’m still stuck. I attended the conference with a half-written manuscript and two weeks later, I still have a half-written manuscript. Mr. Goldblatt suggested I consider changing the four perspective, first person POV to third person omniscient, depending on the story I want to tell. He’s the expert. I should make the change. I know this. And yet that little voice in my psyche that is devoid of anything resembling the sagacious, laughter-charged, New York edge of Mr. Goldblatt’s reminds me to write the story of my heart. If only the man actually did live in my head like Ratatouille in the chef’s hat, forcing my fingers to fly on the keyboard, tapping out the best-selling version of the story of my heart. Now that would be worth fifty bucks times fifty more. As it is, I’ll have to settle for my ten minutes of brain-picking. After all, it, too, was worth every penny.
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AuthorDee Linn loves words. When she was in the third grade, her exasperated teacher told her she'd probably talk to a pole, if she happen to be sitting beside it. Not much has changed except that now she says it in writing. She is a single mom of four, a teacher of teens, a cheater at board games, and a lover of life. She's a Kansas girl, but travels to all kinds of places in her head with characters living there, some of which she's sure she's created. Some, she's not sure how they got there. But they are way more interesting to talk to than a pole. Archives
November 2017
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