Parting Ways with a Literary Agent

Of all the milestones I’ve reached so far on my writing journey, none has bowled me over quite like getting an agent. Weirdly enough, it was even more exciting than landing a book deal. Perhaps because I’d been querying for so long. Perhaps because it was the first time someone within the industry had validated my writing and made me believe I had a real shot at my dream. Getting an agent was the door that could unlock all the doors behind it. Never once did I imagine that I might voluntarily walk back out that door and shut it behind me.

Yet that’s exactly what I did last year when I parted ways with my first agent. It’s common for authors to have multiple agents over the course of their careers, yet it’s rarely talked about openly (shoutouts to Patrice Caldwell and Joy McCullough, who have been particularly forthcoming). Because I created this blog to document my writing journey, and in hopes of helping others who might be navigating a similar situation, I’m going to recount my experience here – with the disclaimer, as always, that this is just my individual opinion. 

Leaving an agent is scary for many reasons, but primary among them is the fact that it’s unethical to solicit new agents before you’ve parted ways with your previous one (don’t do this!). If you’re going to jump ship, you have to be prepared to dive headfirst into the frigid, shark-infested waters of querying. Which begs the question: is having a less-than-perfect agent better than having no agent at all? And: what on earth would compel an author to sever ties with their agent, only to wind up right back at square one? 

The reasons that make it into the public conversation are either truly nefarious, like an agent who fakes submissions, or merely circumstantial, like an agent who leaves the business or changes her categories of representation. What you’re less likely to hear about is that intangible gray area where I found myself – when an author and agent are simply not a good fit. 

I know, I know… the “fit” excuse is as groan-worthy as “I just didn’t connect with this manuscript.” But it also happens to be legitimate. My reasons for leaving my agent had nothing to do with her agenting chops – after all, she sold my debut novel. To Random House! It had everything to do with that gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that the relationship wasn’t quite what I needed. 

To be fair, I had no idea what I needed when I had “the call” for the first time. If you had asked me back then what I was looking for from an agent, I would have answered: “A book deal. Duh.” But one year later, book deal in hand, I wanted something else. I wanted someone to guide me through the confusing world of publishing, to help me position myself in the market, and to strategize with me about what I hope will become a fruitful writing career. There’s no way I could have articulated any of that when I was querying for the first time, and I certainly don’t blame my previous agent for failing to read my mind or predict the future. 

But as our relationship progressed, I began to recognize that our visions were not aligned – both in terms of individual manuscripts and the overall path forward. So I went back to my trusted writing friends and did a gut-check. Was I being too precious with my manuscripts? Too demanding in my requests? Deep down, I already knew the answers to these questions. 

Everything I read on this topic (mostly from agents) advised that I should be straightforward and raise these issues with my agent before I ended things. To be honest, I struggled with this advice and did a pretty lousy job of it. I knew if I laid out my concerns and received the “right” answers in response, I’d feel obligated to stay. And I knew in my heart that I didn’t want to stay. The author-agent relationship is a strange hybrid – it’s not a friendship or a fan club, but it’s not strictly business, either. As authors, we pour our hearts into our work, and we deserve a representative who gets us. We should be allowed to hold out for that without feeling guilty or having to jump through hoops.

And yet, when I finally pulled the trigger, I felt awful and disloyal. The decision wasn’t easy and certainly wasn’t one I took lightly, but I’m convinced it was the right choice for me. At least, I’m convinced of that now. I wasn’t always so certain. Especially when I started querying again.

In most ways, querying was better the second time around. I was more confident as a writer, and as a bonus, I already had a book deal under my belt. I was able to query more slowly and selectively, and when I did receive offers, I got on “the call” knowing exactly which questions to ask. That said, I still received my share of form rejections, and I had many, many moments of panic, convinced I’d made the wrong choice and that I’d be stuck forever on the wrong side of that agent door. (The takeaway: querying stinks no matter what stage you’re at.)

Luckily, that wasn’t my fate. I eventually signed with a new agent, went back out on sub, and sold my second book. That all sounds rosy in hindsight, but ultimately, I have no way of knowing whether I’ll sell more books or make more money with my new agent than with my former one. What I do know is that I’ve landed with an agent who understands my writing and my aspirations and…yes, who gets me. I’m convinced that a solid agent/writer relationship is more likely to translate into book sales over time, but as far as I’m concerned, that’s missing the point. Feeling understood and supported in this bizarre publishing world is worth more than a mere dollar value. And it’s well worth holding out for.