The Mid-Career Query

If you've had some publishing experience without an agent, is it worth it to try to find one mid-career?

- Zachary Petit

“W ho’s your agent?”

I winced. But the question was innocent enough, if not obvious enough: In the wake of two other books over the past decade, I had just released a new title in Bloomsbury’s cult-favorite 33½ music series. And by “cult-favorite,” I mean a line of books with the nichest of niche readerships—and thus the most modest of modest advances.

“I don’t have one,” I said, playing it cool. “All of the books I’ve done have had small advances, so I’ve never really tried to get one.”

My friend—a fellow writer with a dozen books under her belt—stared at me, eyebrow raised.

“You know,” she said, “there might be a reason your advances have been small ...”

I laughed and changed the topic, as I tend to do when confronted with (uncomfortable!) truths ... especially when said uncomfortable truth concerns something I’ve spent the better part of the past 15 or so years avoiding. No matter where you're at in your publishing journey, agents can be a daunting part of the industry—yet another hurdle to clear, in an ecosystem already beset with hurdles. There's the exhaustion factor: I know I can write this—how many more gatekeepers do I need to convince?! The (seemingly) practical factor: Are my deals even enough to be able to share 15 percent of them?! The rejection factor: I've been working in this industry for a while—what if they think I'm a charlatan?!

Rather than deal with it all, I just dealt with publishers directly, in various ways. But in the process, I've long wondered how much money, rights, and all things beyond I’ve been leaving on the table by staying solo.

So, for this annual issue of WD, I decided to ask a trio of stellar agents just that. More specifically: Should unagented midcareer writers with a book or two on their résumés, or a bio filled with short stories, articles, etc., be working with a rep? And if so, how should they go about getting one?