Why We Fear Agents

By Christina F. York

Because the question has come around several times. I have been thinking about the reasons we, as writers, invest so much emotional power in the agent relationship.

First, of course, is accepting the fact that this is an emotional issue, not a logical or business issue. Logically, practically, most of us know the proper response to the agent issue. But when we actually face the issues, emotional responses often block that practical knowledge.

With that in mind, I have been trying to figure out what those emotional responses are, why we have them, and how to get over or around them. As we have discussed so often, the root cause seems to be fear, in a multitude of forms.

We talk about fear of failure, a common one. And fear of success, which may be less common, but still shows up often.

But I have another one that I realized applies directly to the agent relationship: the fear of being alone.

Now, I know that an agent is an employee, and no one should be afraid of losing an employee, especially one that isn’t a good fit. But we have learned – from somewhere – the attitude that the agent has to love their job, to be enthusiastic about the product they are selling.

By extension, we then assume they have to love our work. Which makes them our ally in selling our work. At last, we have someone on our side! Someone who will champion us, our work, our creations.

Writers, by their very nature, are solitary creatures. We work alone, often in isolation. Most spouses, families, co-workers, classmates – most of the other people in our lives – just don’t get it. I hear time and again from people whose husband or wife resents the time spent away from the family, from the day job, from housework, and children and family gatherings. We don’t get support from the people who are supposed to be in our corner.

Besides, if our family is supportive, we dismiss their opinions. They are not professionals, they don’t know if what we are doing is good. They say “Good job!” even if it isn’t, because they love us, and want us to feel good. We listen to them, and remember every time someone else said “I don’t care if your mother loves your work, what did the editor say?” And we discount every compliment that comes from someone who likes us, or loves us. They aren’t the people whose opinions “count.”

So, when an agent offers representation, when they volunteer to be in our corner, to be part of that support system, we’re thrilled. Someone gets it. They believe in us, and want to be our partner in our business. They provide outside validation that we are good. They give us our Sally Field Moment.

They want to help us, and that is a huge feeling of relief. At last, we don’t have to do it all ourselves. Someone else will take on part of the load. This is particularly seductive for a writer with a day job and a family, with commitments that leave little enough time for writing, much less all the other things that go with it. We can offload some of the tedious work we don’t enjoy.
Yes, writing is a business, and we shouldn’t put this emotional load on the business. But perhaps, if we understand the cause, we can learn to lessen the effect.

So now, we think, we have an enthusiastic employee to share the load. Someone who believes in the product we are selling (and, our emotional self says, us). Someone who will take some of the burden off of us, freeing us to spend our precious time writing. Finally, we have someone to help.

Then, sometimes without even a warning, that help disappears. The agent isn’t returning your calls, or answering your email. They don’t respond as quickly as they should, or they aren’t submitting things when they should, or they start “suggesting” changes, and refusing to do their job unless you do what they want.

As a boss, the answer is simple. If they don’t do the work, they lose the job. Your logical self has no problem with this, and probably thinks it is the best thing to do, and as quickly as possible.

But the emotional self, the overwhelmed individual who felt he or she was building a support system, doesn’t see it that way. The emotional self sees that support system evaporating, sees herself losing that help and assistance. The emotional self sees herself once more alone, without the enthusiastic employee to share the load.

Of course this isn’t the reality. Of course the support system is already gone, often long before the rational, practical, self realizes how bad the situation is. But the rational self often isn’t in control. I agree that it should be, but I realize that it isn’t.

I don’t know what the answer is. I don’t have a magic formula for transforming our emotions, or putting the rational self firmly in charge. I can’t solve this for myself, much less anyone else, in the course of an afternoon’s thought.

What I do know is that asking the question is the first step toward finding an answer, and that awareness is the first step toward change.