What are the most common and fruitful ways that agents and writers find each other?

MW:  Referrals from clients, other writers (more often published), professors and writing instructors, publishing house editors, and through publication of shorter work in journals and magazines.  Meeting at conferences. 

What should a novice writer look for in an agent?  Do unscrupulous agents exist, and what would the warning signs be?

MW:  For a writer of serious fiction or narrative non-fiction, an agent who seems genuinely passionate about your work.  The passion is important because the process can be challenging and drawn out and you want someone who believes in you and your talent enough to hang in there.  Also, someone who seems to get what you are trying to communicate and who may even have some keen insights and suggestions about how you can improve the work at hand.  In other words, an agent with some editorial skills can be an asset.  You should be interested in the reputation of a prospective agent, both from a business standpoint and in terms of integrity. 

Yes, there are some unscrupulous agents, although, for the most part, I have found my colleagues to be dedicated and honest in their dealings.  As in every profession, there are always exceptions.  You might want to know if an agent belonged to the Association of Authors' Representatives, though many reputable agents may not.  At least you would know that there was an association to approach if you had an issue or concern. 

You should be skeptical of anyone who asks you for money up front, especially just to read and consider your work.  If you have become a client, some of the warning signs would include not receiving copies of royalty statements and payments (advances or royalties) for your work under contract in a timely fashion.  When your work is being submitted, you should be made aware of the names of the editors and publishers to whom it is being sent.  Unless you would rather not know, an agent should also share with you the responses of those editors (although some of those have become skimpier and less helpful these days, it still is reassuring to see some sort of response). 

Are there benchmarks for determining whether your relationship with your agent is working or not? 

MW:  Like most publishing professionals (and so many others) these days, agents can be overwhelmed by the number of projects they are handling and the number of prospective projects under consideration.  It isn't necessarily an indication that things aren't working if you don't get a response to a phone call or e-mail in what you consider to be a timely fashion.  If you do, that's great.  But don't assume that your agent's tardiness in getting back to you means that your relationship is in trouble.  If a lack of responsiveness persists, you may need to reassess.  First, consider the urgency of any message you have left.  If there isn't a looming deadline, it may not seem to be as high a priority to your agent.  Also, try to establish early on the preferred form of communication for both of you. 

How do advances work?  How common are they for first-time authors now?

MW:  Advances are still common, though they have diminished in size (and frequency).  This came up at a meeting the other day and I heard a very successful agent mention that "we were moving away from an advance based system and that we just had to get used to it."  Not exactly music to my ears -- nor to yours, I would imagine.  We are operating in an ever-changing environment and while many are excited about those changes, I'd say others are not.  But we all do (writers, agents, editors) what we do because we love writing and books and so we march on.  Obviously, there is a more continuous re-calibration going on and expectations are constantly being adjusted.  This answer, in part, depends on the type of book you are trying to get published.  For now, let's just say that the ultimate consumer, the reader, may be determining just how much you are financially rewarded for your work, and when! 

Within the genre of fiction, do agents typically represent short story collections, which seem to be less marketable than novels? 

MW:  As you point out, they do tend to be less marketable and, therefore, both agents and editors will have a similar response:  “Are you working on a novel?”  It's not required, but it's generally hoped for. 

Of course, if your short fiction happens to have been published by numerous distinguished journals and magazines, that would alter the discussion considerably. 

Considering the issue of genre further, how should a writer who works in multiple genres approach finding an agent?  That is, should the writer try to prioritize a fit between a specific piece and an agent, or prioritize a fit based on a wide range of work and how well the writer and agent get along? 

MW:  I'd say the latter, unless the writer really hasn't realized that she or he is much better suited to one genre (preferably the more commercial one).  Overall, you want someone who can handle all of your work, but writers have had separate agents for their adult and young adult work and some have handled their own journalism (at least their magazine and website work).  For the most part, an agent will want to handle your entire body of work and should be able to do so, with some exceptions. 

Does the market work differently for regional writers?  As an Appalachian writer, for example, would my work be considered marketable by large publishing houses, or would it be seen as valuable only by niche markets or small presses?  How can regional writers have the best chance at publication? 

MW:  Regional writers can be very marketable.  Dare I say it depends on the region?  Not to be glib, but there may actually be some truth in that, though I don't think it should be a concern.  Sometimes, by concentrating on developing a following within the relevant region, you can build momentum -- buzz -- by utilizing available homegrown resources.  That growing interest can then start to extend to other markets by virtue of the obvious reach of various media -- and even by word of mouth, which we know has been amped up a bit by the power of the internet.  Bottom line -- mainstream New York publishers can be very interested in this kind of work.  It can be and seem fresh to them. 

But there are also many fine regional publishers (again, depending on the region), who may be particularly adept at starting that kind of ball rolling.  In the end, if this is serious fiction (or memoir, etc.) that we are discussing, just make it the best Appalachian novel we've seen in a long, long time and it will make its way.

~

Q:  As we have been studying, place is extremely important in crime fiction.  With this in mind, why the setting of post-Katrina New Orleans? What elements of this setting made your story unique? What questions does this setting raise (in relation to social disorder/societal fears)?

The fears most invoked by the setting of Hell or High Water have to do, I think, with the power of nature to devastate our cultures and  communities, and with the power of a criminal to devastate our psyches.  

New Orleans is also a uniquely rich setting in that it's a very beautiful, complicated city with a racially troubled history.  Even today, it has many different neighborhoods that reflect racialized differences in wealth and access to political power.  The societal fear of the poor Other is one element with which the protagonist Nola--a Latina who grew up in the Desire Projects in the Upper Ninth Ward (historically a poor, predominantly African American area) and who now works primarily with white, middle-class people--must contend.

Q:  We have also spent a lot of time talking about gendering. What does the woman protagonist, Nola, have to do with this image of gendering, and how does having a female protagonist change the crime novel? Nola is also young. What does age say and change about the protagonist in this crime novel?

I enjoyed reading the chapter "Regendering the Genre" from Lee Horsley's book Twentieth-Century Crime Fiction that your instructor assigned.  The most significant way Hell or High Water plays with gender and genre is that its protagonist combines or conflates all three of the typical roles for women in crime fiction that Horsley mentions:  femme fatale and victim, as in traditional crime novels, and detective, as in later crime novels (especially those written by women).  Without giving too much away, I'd say she also functions as a perpetrator.  I wanted to undo some of the false bifurcations or compartmentalizations of women's identities that traditional crime fiction perpetuates.

On the issue of age:  Nola is only 27 in the novel, and she has some problems with ageism.  Because she chafes at the control her section editor Claire exerts, and Claire's seniority is an easy signifier to latch onto, Nola frames her resentment in terms of Claire's age.  This ageism melts away at the end of the novel, when she's able to empathize and imagine herself being in Claire's shoes in years to come.  I made Nola prejudiced toward an older female colleague because I wanted to give Nola, who's so sensitive to inequalities of race, class, and gender, an ideological blind spot.  I didn't want her to be too perfect.

Q:  Nola is not a hired investigator, an ex-sheriff, or an experienced lawman. Instead, she is a middle-class journalist. How do her career and social class also shape the way the crime investigation unfolds?

I'd first nuance this observation and note that while Nola is currently--barely--middle-class, she comes from a background of poverty, which she does not disclose to her colleagues and friends.  This difficult background and its status as a kept secret both create tension for Nola as she tries to "pass" among her colleagues and friends, and make her keenly aware of class difference as she navigates the different neighborhoods of New Orleans.  These inequalities form part of what she reports.

The fact that she's a writer, rather than someone professionally involved with law enforcement, changes the angle of access.  She's not a medical examiner, so we don't get forensic details.  Hell or High Water is not a police procedural.  Nola is a journalist:  a trained, persistent researcher who's good at interviewing people, uncovering facts, and shaping a coherent narrative.  That's where the novel's focus lies:  in character, in psychology, in the facts and statistics concerning sexual crimes, and in their long, lived fallout.

The fact that Nola is a reporter also leaves room for her to reflect on the constructed nature of stories, even supposedly objective news stories:   what we include, what we leave out, and the fraught issues of power that surround and inform those choices.  By making her a journalist, the novel allows Nola to engage meta-narrative considerations, which fascinate me.  So that was fun.

Q:  On a personal note: What is it like having your novels read by famous authors? I saw a quote about your book from Dennis Lehane and another from The New York Times Book Review, and wondered how this must feel as an author living in the often-ignored city of Lincoln, Nebraska.

It's nine kinds of wonderful.

I'm very, very lucky (see below) that my first book has gotten this kind of attention.  Authors are busy people, and I'm grateful that Dennis and other writers, as well as critics at great newspapers and magazines, made time to read my book. 

I recently got to do the same for first-time mystery author Steph Cha, and I felt very happy to be able to help a new writer out a little.

~

Many thanks to Karen and her students for hosting me in ENGL 180!  Good luck with the semester's end!