It’s one hell of an apprenticeship, a life changing
experience, which should come with a health warning. You might opt for the
lucky fast-track option and get an agent straight away, but you’ll probably end
up on the most expensive course: the one that comes with additional training and
usually lasts a lifetime. Only the most dedicated will survive. All students
are expected to study seven days a week/24 hours a day. There will be nothing
else on your mind.
In preparation for your slow descent into hell I
must advise you to move into a clutter-free house, preferably one with padded
walls. Crash-mat floors will provide protection for when you choose to hurl
yourself around in utter despair. Send your submissions via email. Use texts to
communicate with everyone else. While seeking representation, avoid contact
with human beings - they’ll only keep asking if your work is published. When
you tell them that you’re still working on that task, they’ll give you a look
as if to say, ‘What have you been doing with your time?’ Therefore, I suggest
you adopt a cat to keep you company. Make sure it’s trained and used to temperamental
owners. Don’t get a dog - you won’t have time to take it on walks. It’ll only
join the ever growing list of other ‘beings’ who resent you.
You’ll soon realise that you might never get an
agent. This will occur long before you’ve reached the list of agents on page
two of the Writers' & Artists' Yearbook. Don’t have a strop. Eat cake. Drink
wine. Put your dimply hands on your ample hips and shout at the top of your
voice to every agent worldwide, ‘I’m
coming to get you!’ Did I mention your minimalist home must also have triple
glazing to dampen emotional outbursts?
It could take anything from twelve months to thirty
years to finish a writer’s apprenticeship. You won’t live any longer than this.
Life expectancy decreases the minute you receive your first rejection.
By now you’ll be penniless and overcome with
self-doubt. You’ll try to work out why no one wants you on their list. Do they
dislike one aspect of your submission or hate it all? You’ll not consider the
possibility that it just isn’t their cup of tea or that your idea is too
difficult to brand. At this stage of apprenticeship, you are your biggest
critic. Be careful not to go into an editorial frenzy. Please don’t cut ‘First
Draft’ in half. You’re not yourself anymore. In this state you’re likely to
shred all the best bits and completely lose the plot. Seek help!
Join a Writer’s Group to get constructive criticism.
Agents are very good at wining, dining, flirting and smiling, but only if they’re
getting a percentage of your earnings. They don’t have the time to write
wonderful letters of encouragement, even if they’ve been inspired by your
submission. Your work might be brilliant, you could have real potential, but if
it ends up on the slush pile you won’t get any praise. Every ‘reject’ receives the
same standard NO. Agents don’t molly-coddle ‘unknowns’. Their role is to find
something that stands out within a particular genre. They have a fiduciary duty
to represent the authors on their lists (anyone with a client agreement). Once
an author obtains this legal contract they should feel secure, because any
misrepresentation can be fought in court. However, if you wish to avoid a battle, remain
vigilant; expect to come across a few demons - it is HELL after all.