Agent bashing is a perennial literary sport – but it is time we reined it in?
Pity the lot of the unpublished writer, sweating over their beloved manuscript only to face near-constant rejection and RSI. As someone who’s been pitching their thriller for the best part of six months, I’m well aware of these trials, but I was still shocked to hear that some literary agents are reporting a rise in abuse.
"After the 10th rude email in the last two weeks, I am dismayed at the rise in unpleasant responses to rejections for submissions," wrote Nelle Andrew, from Rachel Mills Literary Agency, on X. "Agents are humans too, not punching bags."
Other agents quickly shared their stories. "I was once called a bitch," fumed one. Another said they automatically delete author responses, so used they are to grouchy ripostes. "I’ve been accused of pretending to care about marginalised writers," said one. Another said: "I’ve had would-be writers threaten my job, my life; and written to my bosses, to the Prime Minister and once even the Queen, calling for my dismissal."
Sadly, many struggling scribes might feel a shiver of schadenfreude. Most writers have been ghosted, led on or left broken-hearted after a beautiful "literary marriage" that-could-have-been has died. Querying your novel is a particular kind of hell – like the dating scene, only far, far worse. I have literally shed tears after an agent has lost interest in me: ("But why haven’t they called me? Why?") I’m well aware then of the sting of a bluntly-put ’no’, but calling an agent ‘a bitch’ is not just horrible, it’s really stupid. Agents talk – and the publishing world is small. That gobby backchat might feel satisfying, but it means they can’t query them later – and muddies the water. "I once gave what I thought was constructive feedback," agent Kate Barker tells me. "The writer wrote back threatening to badmouth me all over the internet. I no longer give individualised feedback."
Luckily, not all agents are seeing a rise in hostilities. Megan Carroll, from Watson Little, says the agency has always received a small number of huffy rebuttals, with some deploying "choice words". If agents are getting more, she suggests, it may reflect the uptake in submissions. "Pre-pandemic, we received 50-80 a week; now we’re getting over 100."
Of course, authors and agents have long enjoyed a complicated, sometimes symbiotic, relationship. Stephen King had such a close relationship with his, he dedicated several of his books to him. Letters from Shirley Jackson to her agents offer glimpses into her difficult domestic life. Meanwhile, the notoriously feisty Andrew Wylie (aka "the Jackal") credits Sally Rooney with teaching him how to talk to his children.
It’s not hard to imagine that writers are becoming more crabby. We live in the age of intolerance: the "Tetchy Twenties". We’re vocal about what we don’t like
It’s true too that some authors go to unusual lengths to attract agent attention. One US scribe queried his book with a four-inch-thick package mostly taken up by a plastic model of a man, spray-painted silver – the book’s eponymous hero, the "Silver Space Man". Other writers opt for more tasteful submissions. "We’ve had bottles of wine, chocolates, bookmarks," says Megan Carroll.
Others send baked goods. I’m not immune to dishing out flattery, but nothing spells desperation like a batch of home-baked fairy cakes. Besides, if they’ve already rejected you, they’ll think you’re trying to poison them – hardly a good basis for any kind of relationship.
Overall, it’s not hard to imagine that writers are becoming more crabby. We live in the age of intolerance: the "Tetchy Twenties". We’re vocal about what we don’t like, and not afraid to voice our opinions. This might work on BookTok, but in the publishing world it pays to keep a quieter presence. Nobody likes a smart arse, as the saying goes.
Perhaps writers are becoming emboldened by the rise in self-publishing, which, apparently, has seen a 264% growth in the last five years? The average incomes of indie authors also appear to be rising, with a 53% increase in 2022 (although plenty don’t sell a bean). Meanwhile, traditionally-published authors’ earnings have declined, to a median of £7,000 a year.
"Agents are gatekeepers" is the common complaint. (At the London Book Fair, I heard this at least three times). Most publishers only accept agented proposals, which gifts the literary agent a dizzying kind of power. You can see why it’s frustrating, particularly for writers outside the narrow social margins of the largely-white publishing world (two-thirds of the industry come from professional backgrounds, according to the Publishers Association, with privately educated individuals "overrepresented".)
But authors egged on by the heady lure of KDP shouldn’t get too carried away. Agents might be gatekeepers, but they can also be our friends, sneaking us in and slipping vital information. It’s feedback from agents that has most developed me as a writer, and, even if I indie-publish, I’ve hugely benefited from those encounters. So ultimately my advice is to be nice to agents. One day, they might be very nice to you.