Wow. My last post seems to have upset some people.

I had eleven authors write and ask a form of this: "You mean when the agent said to me, 'We like this, but we want you to talk with our editorial department in order to get your manuscript in shape,' he was scamming me?"

My response: If the agent was selling you editorial services that he gets a commission from, then yes. At best the agent was violating the Association of Author Representatives' code of ethics. At worst he was trying to make money off you when he knew he wouldn't be able to sell your manuscript. There's also been a slew of literaryagents who charge authors for media training, marketing efforts, and all sorts of other stuff. It's wrong — but these agents don't belong to AAR, they don't have any training from an experienced agent, so they don't even realize what they're doing is improper.

Look, in recent years we've seen an explosion of people calling themselves "literary agents," though many don't have any sort of formal or informal training, nor were they mentored by a successful agent. They don't really understand the role of a literary agent. But the growth of certain genres (and Christian fiction in particular) over the past five or six years motivated them to hang out a shingle and announce they were now "agents." In other words, they saw it as easy money. And a lot of authors, who were looking for an agent to help them, signed on. Some even got their books published. But I'll tell you something: these folks don't know what they're doing. When I see a manuscript that is a good idea but not quite ready for prime time, I might send them to an editor — but I won't be making money off the deal. If they need marketing help, I'll either provide it or introduce them to a good publicist – but it won't be someone who secretly works for me, so that I get a kickback. If they need media training, I'll help them get it – but I won't sell it to them myself. Being a literary agent isn't a fee-for-service business, and it's time everybody woke up to that fact.

I also had a couple literary agents who wrote to say, in essence, "You're being unfair."

Nope. I'm not. You just don't know what you're doing. You think agenting is a business where you make money from your clients. But a real agent understands that he or she is paid by the publisher. I keep seeing literary agents who offer "personal management" for a fee, and I'm thinking, "Isn't that what an agent does? Isn't that my job?" I did graduate work in career planning and placement, and I try to bring that experience to bear with the clients I represent. But if I was charging them a fee for that, there's a huge potential for problems. The temptation is to make extra money by selling them more and more services. Any time I refer the authors I represent to some other business I own, it's a huge conflict of interest.

Two readers, Don and Suzie, wrote to ask, "What about speakers bureaus?"

Some of us offer a speakers bureau as part of the literary agency. We do it simply as a service to help authors grow their platform and make some extra money. But there's no fee to work with our speakers bureau. For authors who also speak, the person running the speakers bureau gets a commission, just like a literary agent.

And I've had several publishers talk with me about this, asking, "What do we do if we like an author, but don't want to work with the agent?"

I always say the same thing: Don't say something to the author you wouldn't say to the agent. Publishers aren't dumb — they know a lousy agent when they work with one. But it's not the publisher's job to take the author aside and whisper, "Um…I don't know how to tell you this, but your agent is a moron." Besides, they don't want to be sued for slander. But it would seem reasonable to say, "We think this was done poorly" or "I don't think you understand this process."

I know of two recent cases where a publisher went to an agent with an idea for an author, then the agent sold it to someone else. That should get the agent run out the door. I know of another case where an agent sold the same project to two different publishers, then tried to cover it up by changing one of the titles. If I were a publisher, I don't know that I'd work with that agent again. (And yes, I'd probably tell the author why.)

But I realize this is a slippery slope. Hey, we all make mistakes, and I've made more than my share of them. I've forgotten things. I try not to over-promise or fudge numbers, but I know of times I gave out sales numbers that proved to be inaccurate. I've said stupid things. A while back I co-agented a deal with a friend of mine, but when I turned in the information to Publishers Weekly, I failed to include the other agent's name. I was wrong. It happens. So I make my apologies, and try not to make the same mistake again. Still, there's a difference between making a mistake and intentionally trying to defraud people. Every good agent can do the former; none should be caught doing the latter.

And finally, a couple folks wrote to ask, "Is there an association of Christian literary agents?"

No, there isn't. Rick Christian and Sealy Yates (two of the originals when it comes to working with CBA authors) talked about starting a group like this years ago, but it never panned out. Recently a couple of authors talked about starting a membership group for CBA agents, but I saw too many problems with the concept (who vets members? who handles disputes? would they really have the balls to kick out a member and risk a lawsuit? and will agents respond to a group formed by authors?). It still may happen, but my guess is if a group is formed, it will be because a bunch of the legit agents decide to form it.

Recently I've had a number of questions come to me about literary agents…

Diane wrote to ask, "Where can an author find out about good and bad agents?"

I can suggest an author do several things, Diane. Check out the information at AgentQuery.com. You'll find facts and details about agents, as well as good writer resources. The folks at TheWritersWorkshop and the blog at GuideToLiteraryAgents.com are also helpful, and try to keep writers up to date on problem literary agencies. Every year Chuck Sambuchino does his Guide to Literary Agents with Writers Digest Books, and the 2009 version is filled with great information (including an article I wrote on the new directions in Christian fiction). There are several books that list agents by genre, and the online "Publishers Marketplace" tracks which agents are actually doing deals. That should give you some real-world perspective. Finally, Bill Martin runs AgentResearch.com, which tries to track agents, deals, and any insider information he can find.

One site you really should visit is Preditors & Editors (you'll find them at anotherrealm.com/ prededitors) . I'm always surprised to discover writers don't know about this site, but it tracks the scam artists in this business. A second site that tries to weed out the bad agents is Write Beware (go to sfwa.org/beware/agents). Both of these grew out of speculative fiction authors getting scammed, and both do a good job of naming names and offering real world advice. And, of course, you can always go to a writing conference and ask around. You can glean a lot of information by talking with an editor about who they do repeat business with, and who they have decided to not pursue.

Randall sent this: "I sent in a proposal to a literary agency I had met at a conference. I got back a letter stating that my proposal 'isn't ready for representation,' but the letter also encouraged me to go to a particular editorial service. I checked into it, and the editorial service is owned by the agent. Is this a scam?"

I love this question. By now you should know that legitimate agents don't require an up-front fee to work with them, or charge a marketing or submission fee, or try to sell you a detailed critique for a fee. However, a legitimate agent also doesn't try to sell you an adjunct service like an editorial critique. A legitimate agent doesn't constantly try to steer authors toward an editorial service which pays the agent a kickback. To do so is to defraud an author… and I point this out because there are currently several supposedly reputable literary agents who are doing this very thing.

Take a look at the Association of Author Representatives canon of ethics on the AAR website. Two phrases speak to this clearly: "Members may not receive a secret profit in any transaction involving a client" and "members may not charge clients or potential clients for reading and evaluating literary works, and may not benefit, directly or indirectly, from the charging for such services by any other person or entity." That's pretty clear. So the agent who says to you, "You know, Randall, you're a pretty good writer, but I don't think this manuscript is quite ready for prime time… Tell you what, let me suggest you speak to one of our editors, who can help you get this into shape," and then makes money because he earns something from the editing process is violating the agent's code of ethics. When you hear those words, stand up and walk away.

Do you see the problem with this practice? Even if the agent means well, it creates a situation that can easily be abused. If an agent has an agreement where he secretly profits by steering authors toward a particular editor, there's a temptation to steer everybody to that editor, in order to generate more cash flow for the agent. And if the agent openly says, "We do agenting, but we also run this editorial service," where's the protection for the author? Isn't there a temptation to send everyone to your editorial service, in order to make a pile of money? Look, I have worked with a wonderful editor, Marie Prys, for years. When authors ask for an editor to assist in evaluating their work, I'll often encourage them to call Marie. But I don't get a kickback for doing so. Marie and I are not business partners — she doesn't send me any of the money she makes. And I've sent several novelists to Susan May Warren's "My Book Therapy," which is a fine manuscript evaluation service, but Susan doesn't pay me a finders' fee for encouraging writers to work with her. To do so would be a clear violation of ethics. Agents who do this could never be members of AAR — so don't play along with it.

(And I should clarify one thing: Some agents have a part-time job doing editorial work for publishers. That's a different kettle of fish. For example, my business partner, Sandra Bishop, still takes on an occasional editorial or writing task for a company. But she isn't charging her clients to edit their book, nor is she getting a kickback from another editor for sending the author their way. Instead, she's being paid by a publisher for some independent work. The AAR says it's fine for an agent to get paid for critiquing manuscripts at a writers' conference, or for speaking at a workshop. But he or she shouldn't be bleeding authors and prospective authors for extra income by sending them to in-house editors. I don't own an editorial service and send authors to it as a way to make extra money from unpublished writers. That would be a clear violation of the AAR, and you need to be aware of the practice.)

I've had five different people send me a form of this question: "My agent has a clause that says they will get a piece of any book I talk with them about. So even if I fire the agent, he claims he is still due his 15%."

I took some time to get to this question because I have some friends who have that in their agency clause. I have to say that I find it unconscionable. Look, if an author comes to me to discuss an idea, and I help her refine it, and maybe give her some advice on how best to shape the book, then I suppose it's fair to say I should receive compensation when the book is contracted. (That said, I don't practice that. If an author wants to leave my company, they leave, and that's the end. Why would I want to entangle myself with a bunch of ideas I didn't sell? Seems like a headache-in-waiting, and something that's sure to create a fight.) However, I've recently seen two different agencies tell authors that the agency would receive a 15% commission on ANY PROJECT THEY HAD EVER DISCUSSED. So even if the author and agent just grazed over a dozen ideas while sitting at Starbucks one day, the agent expects his or her "input" to be worth 15% of all future deals. Even if the author fires the agent because there was a relationship problem, the agent expects a commission for nothing more than a couple sentences over coffee.  Amazing.  I can't believe any author would agree to this, but in both cases the authors I spoke to had this in their written agreement with their former agents. And the fact I've received so many questions about this matter means the idea is spreading.

Look, this is simple: Read your agency agreement. If you're asked to sign something that says every thought is to be held captive by your agent, there's a problem. Suggest different wording. Sometimes author/agent relationships don't work out, and you don't want to be locked into this type of unfair practice. If your agent helps you create your idea, that's one thing. But to simply say that any idea you've ever discussed somehow "belongs" to your agent… I'm sorry, but I just can't reconcile that.

Okay, I'm up and around and not taking pain pills today, so let me try and catch up on a handful of publishing questions…

Carol wrote and said, "You've said quite a bit about platforms lately, but can you tell us how an agent or publisher determines the value of a particular writer's platform? For example, is there a certain number of listeners they want to see for an author who has a radio show? Or a certain number of subscribers to an online program? Are they looking for a certain size of audience for speakers? How are such things decided?"

Generally speaking, the larger your actual audience, the better your platform is in the publisher's eyes.  An "actual audience" is the number of people with whom you've had a point of contact in the past year — they came to hear you speak, or bought your book, or sent a donation to your organization, or actually listened to your show. (This is in comparison to a "potential audience," which is "the number of people who could have listened to your show." Radio and TV types love talking about a potential audience, because if you have a TV show on cable, it has a potential audience of billions…but that won't do you any good if nobody is actually watching.) That means you may have to dig a bit in order to find your actual audience numbers.

If you speak, this is easy to determine — you figure out how many times you spoke and how many people came to hear you. If you've got a newspaper column, it's fair to offer the paper's paid circulation as your audience. If you have a popular blog, your host  service should be able to tell you the number of hits and distinct page views you've had. If you're on local radio, Arbitron can tell you the size of your audience. If you're on local TV, your station will have the audience size, but if you're on satellite its much tougher to determine an actual audience count.

Is there a size publishers shoot for? Sure: massive. They want to work with the authors who reach the most people. If you can tell the publisher that you speak 100 times per year, and the average size of audience was 250, that sounds good…but look at the numbers. You only spoke to 25,000 people. Even if you could sell to half of that number, you'd only be promising 12,000 copies. And the percentage of people who buy books goes down considerably when you're not there live — so you probably can't count on half your blog-readers buying your book. You just put together the best numbers you can, and let the publisher interpret what they think is a fair sell-through. And, by the way, this is why having a "marketing" section in your proposal that basically says "I'm going to start a blog and I'm willing to speak to women's groups in southwest Ohio" doesn't much help your cause. Publishers aren't that interested in selling a couple dozen copies of your book. They're interested in steps that will sell hundreds or thousands of copies. Remember that a platform is built on a combination of these things, so work toward building as large an audience you can… and then write a great book.

Jim asked, "How do some books stay on the best-seller lists forever? I love Mere Christianity, but are there that many people still buying it? Is Five Love Languages so good that thousands are still picking it up?"

Yes. Sales for both those titles were strong last year. The reason? They each have a built-in audience. Small groups in churches buy Love Languages for their marriage groups each fall, keeping that book going and going. Every Christian college encourages people to read Mere Christianity in the fall, thereby keeping the book a bestseller. Elizabeth George's Woman After God's Own Heart has never really been seen as a huge bestseller, but every fall Bible studies order copies, and it has been one of the top 50 books in Christian publishing for a decade. Others, such as Purpose Driven Life and My Utmost for His Highest, are examples of evergreen books — people just keep buying them, year after year. Same on the fiction side, people keep purchasing copies of Redeeming Love because they like it, and it keeps finding a new audience. Eventually these will all fade out, but some books just keep going and going — it's part of the fun in publishing. Some titles get hot then are forgotten (the Left Behind books), others just don't wear well over time (Peretti's novels come to mind). But those that sell and sell over decades are rare gems. Oh — and do you know that last year one of the biggest books in terms of sales was Dr Suess' wonderful Horton Hears a Who… and that's more than 50 years after the book originally released!

Tim noted, "I saw an interview with the editor of Publishers Weekly, commenting on the sad state of affairs in book publishing today — layoffs, reduced acquisitions, the negative affect this will have on the next cycle of buying. She wasn't all doom and gloom, but she was close, and said the current publishing model is 'broken.' What do you suppose that means for those of us writing today?"

I've been in publishing for 30 years, and book publishing for the last 20. I've heard the death of book publishing proclaimed for a long time. Right now the issue isn't one of quality, or of availability, or even of pricing. The issues facing us now are (1) delivery and (2) the economy. Book content can now be delivered cheaply and simply via the internet and the airwaves. That puts us in a time of transition — do you want all your books to be ink-and-paper, or are you making the switch to reading books electronically on a Kindle of Sony Reader? (I'm now using the Sony, since that's what everybody in publishing prefers.) After the initial costs (editing, design, advance, marketing), there is no cost to warehouse an e-book, and very little cost to ship and send. So where does pricing go? That's an issue we haven't settled yet. And how do we protect a book from unlawful distribution? (Consider the difficulties the music industry had with this same issue.)  The change in readership in our culture has shifted money away from brick-and-mortar stores and toward online retailers and a few superstores. That put the squeeze on publishers and writers, and now this lousy economy has people purchasing fewer books, thereby squeezing us all the more.

Is it doom and gloom? Absolutely. Any time publishers are cutting staff and announcing the trimming of lists, it's a bad sign. Will we get through it? I definitely think so. Books have been around since the mid-1400's, and have been popularly available since Dickens turned everyone into readers in the mid 1800's. While futurists worried the internet would turn people away from reading, it's done just the opposite — it's made everyone read stuff on their screens all day long. It's hard to imagine getting by in the modern world as an illiterate. But we're in that transitional period, with delivery patterns changing for how we read books and where we buy them. And a big change like that requires some of the old ways to die off. It hurts, but in the end authors will still be writing, we'll still be reading, and publishers will still produce and sell books.

Ashley noted, "You said in an earlier post that your faith is supposed to shape your life. How do you think your faith currently shapes the way you work?"

The easy answer is that I represent my faith in the way I live my life, including the way I do business. Sometimes I do a good job of that. Other times I do a terrible job. But for all my failings, I'm really trying to set an example. I've had a renewed spiritual involvement these past two years, and there's no getting around it — I want to represent Christ to people. Have I succeeded in doing that? Once in a while. I'll admit I've had more failures than successes in this area — I've done stupid things, said things that weren't true, and acted poorly. But I'm trying to live out my faith through my work, which is where most people know me. I would love nothing more than to have people who worked with  me say, "You know, that Chip was a total fenderhead, but he did love Jesus Christ."

Sorry for the delay in posting, but I was in a bad car accident. I was taking a field trip to visit some publishers with a bunch of graduating college seniors, we slid on a snowy road and had a very bad wreck. I'll post in a day or two (when I'm not in a vicodin-induced haze).

UPDATE: Thanks to everyone for the prayers and best wishes. I'm doing better today. Sore everywhere, and still having problems in my abdomen, but the doctors tell me I'll be okay in a week or two. All 19 students who were with me are doing okay — 12 of them went to the hospital, and there were bumps and bruises, a cracked rib, and one person with some internal injuries, but overall we came out of well. If you'd seen the van, you wouldn't believe it. An 8-car accident, with several of the vehicles totaled. Not only did we hit the semi, but we were then rear-ended by the car behind us, and the van began burning right away. Everybody got out in the nick of time, since the fire spread rapidly and burned the vehicle to a shell. There were some real heroes at the scene (my thanks to Molly for immediately helping get people to safety). Just happy it wasn't worse. Again, I appreciate all your prayers. I'll be fine.

I've had a bunch of questions on "platforms" recently, so let me try and tackle them…

Richard wrote to ask, "What is an author platform? How would you describe it?"

An author platform is simply who you are and what you're known for. If you have expert credentials, or you speak around the country on a topic, or you're known by the media as a source of information on a specific issue, you have an obvious platform. All of that will help to create buzz for your book, and reaching readers is what good marketing is all about.

I think there are two sides to understand the notion of "platforms." First, who you are in relation to your topic. If you're a recognized expert at your topic, you've got a good platform. Let me offer an example… If Warren Buffett wanted to do a book on How to Invest in Today's Stock Market, publishers would be interested because every investor recognizes Buffett's abilty to make money buying stocks. His expertise with the topic is evident. But that's not the only thing needed — there are plenty of investors who have done well and become fabulously wealthy, even in a bad economy. They know their topic, but that's only half the equation.

The second part of understanding a platform is who you are in relation to your readers. Warren Buffett doesn't just know his material, he is known by his potential readership. Most investors recognize the name from his interviews, his letters to stockholders, his appearances in the media. He is an expert, but he's also known by potential book-buyers as an expert. Both aspects are important for an author to capture the attention of a publisher.

In a related vein, Jim wants to know, "The topic of author platforms concerns me because I don't see myself as having a great platform for launching my book. How much consideration (by agents and editors) goes into an author's ability to promote his or her own book?"

A considerable amount. It used to be I could sell a great nonfiction manuscript based solely on the big idea matched by great writing. That doesn't happen much any more. Even when showing a dynamite idea, or drop-dead-gorgeous writing, the publisher is bound to ask me, "What's the author's platform?" If the author doesn't have a platform, it's going to be very tough to land the deal. The author's platform is the key to getting media attention, getting the book reviewed and talked about, and getting buzz going.

Another thing to consider (and something I believe many newer authors don't grasp) is the notion of economies of scale. As an author, you might think it's great that you can show up at your local Rotary Club and sell a dozen copies. But a publisher, even a smaller publisher, isn't all that impressed with your ability to sell a dozen copies, or even several dozen. They need to leverage your platform to move thousands of copies — so mentioning that you're going to advertise your book on your blog doesn't mean much unless that blog is read by thousands of people.

And Donna asked, "Do my magazine articles count as part of my platform? Does my column in my local newspaper? It seems like publishers are only interested in conference speaking and major media."

To balance out my previous answer, I've got to tell you something, Donna: Yes. Magazine articles count. (In fact, I've long said that articles are the single most overlooked marketing opportunity for most book authors.) Your local newspaper column counts. Speaking to groups counts. Everything you do to market yourself and your book goes to make up your platform. And for that reason, you can see why publishers prefer conference speaking and major media — it offers the biggest platform. So if you're not there yet, focus on what you are doing to present the biggest platform you can.

And Rachelle wrote this: "I am a nonfiction writer with lots of article experience, but my book experience is limited to curriculum. I have several ideas for books (in various stages of progress), but what makes me hesitate is that I have no platform. In the world of publishing, I'm a complete nobody. I feel like no matter how well I learn to write or how great of an idea I have, I'll never be published without a platform. Do you have suggestions for me?"

Sure. Create a great website, keep it up to date, and include your speaking events, reviews, endorsements, video clips, and everything else that will boost interest. (Get a professional to work with you on your site — it will pay off in the long run.) Create your own media kit that includes a one-page press release, a photo, a DVD with your media clips, a couple of articles on your topic, and a sheet that has questions & answers that can be used by interviewers. Get endorsements from experts in the field and recognizable names. Write articles and create audios and videos that can be posted online and help you get your message out. Speak frequently on your topic, and keep a list of places you're speaking, who the audience is, and how many people attended. As much as possible, tie your topic to breaking news, since the media are most interested in how your message relates to something happening right now. Learn to use the tools on Amazon, which is an amazingly helpful website for assisting authors with the promotion of their books. Consider working with a marketing professional who can help polish your presentation and introduce you to media contacts. It can be expensive, but it can also help move you into areas you don't know how to reach on your own. Build your relationship with your publisher by being helpful and friendly and hard-working, and by getting to know the marketing and sales staff. And by all means, don't ignore bookstores. I know authors who refuse to walk by a bookstore without going in, shaking hands, and thanking the owner or manager for helping them succeed in their writing careers. We all tend to recommend people we know and like, so if a bunch of bookstore managers know and like you, they're apt to suggest your book to potential readers.

More questions and answers coming soon!

Continuing our discussion about fiction in today's marketplace…

Rick wrote to say, "I recently read a nonfiction author with excellent writing skills… but then I read her fiction, and found it atrocious. How rare is the ability to write both fiction and nonfiction? Why can't some NF writers transfer the skill over to a novel?"

In his National Book Award-wining memoir, Growing Up, Russell Baker tells the story of winning a Pulitzer Prize for his political column in the New York Times, telling his mother, and having her respond with, "That's great Rusty — maybe now you can write a novel and become a real writer." Ouch. I don't know why it is some writers don't see themselves as "complete" until they've published a novel. I made my living as a NF writer for years, and never felt I had to do fiction in order to justify my writing. But many do… and with the growth of fiction in recent years, many have felt pressure to write a novel. Frankly, I think it's self-imposed pressure, or maybe just egotism, and it's stupid – akin to the lead singer of Great Big Sea deciding he's got to sing an aria from La Boheme in order to be "a real singer."  

Writing a novel and writing a nonfiction book are different tasks. Each requires voice and content and clarity, but one is basically telling a good story, and the other is basically sharing information. (It's a fair argument to say that writing a NF book also requires telling a good story, but there's a difference — a NF book is not just a story. It's often sharing history, or encouraging life change, or offering insight and principles to do something more effectively.) I'd argue that the two tasks require some different skills. When working on a NF book, I didn't have to think about characters or setting or story arc. And a novelist doesn't have to think about scope and sequence, or clarity of action, or summarizing the principles. So you're right — not many writers can do both well. Most writers are better at one or the other — either writing fiction or writing nonfiction.

Jim asked, "These days there are books, conferences, DVD's, independent editing services, critique partners, etc. — all a huge assistance to help aspiring authors learn their craft. How did the masters such as Twain and Dickens achieve their skill without these same resources?"

Ha! Jim, you can really be a rabble-rouser, can't you? Okay, I have it on good authority that Mark took correspondance courses from Cecil Murphey, and the rumor has long been around that Dennis Hensley ghosted most of Chuck's books.

Look — some people (a VERY few people) have amazing talent. Mark Twain and Charles Dickens are in that category. So are Jane Austen and Ernest Hemingway. Contemporaries in that group would include Tom Pynchon and Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Some people just have the gift for seeing the world through unique eyes and capturing it on paper. (I'd argue there are plenty of great writers currently who do that and have yet to find big fame.) Still, passing along knowledge and training is a good thing, and all those things you mentioned can assist younger authors in their growth. But you raise an issue I've talked about for years: I think it's possible to make a case that we over-edit writers today. There wasn't much editing done to Twain or Dickens, and their voices came out. Sure, nowadays we'd consider their works wordy and in need of tightening, but you've got to admit — the way you see the words on the page is the way the authors intended them. And maybe there's something to that sort of freedom. I think that's why the blogsophere is going to create some great writers — they can put their words onto the page, and nobody is going to edit or change them. (And, yes, that will also mean there will be a HUGE pile of crap that writers will claim as their "art." That's life in the world of publishing.) Great question!

And Renee wrote to ask, "In today's multi-media world, with traditional publishing going through so many changes, should a novelist look for an agent who has ties to the movie industry as a way to sell their ideas and stories? And if a novelist is with a traditional literary agent who is not connected with TV and movie producers, how does the author get a story idea into the right hands? How critical is this today? Should we be looking for agents with connections beyond publishing houses?"

I'm a traditional literary agent. Been at it for years, and have sold a lot of fiction. (Can I toot my own horn? Publisher's Weekly has basically listed me in the top ten of their "dealmakers" list for the past year. It ain't a perfect way of evaluating agents, since it's basically self-reporting, but it's one of the few ways we have to gauge the ability of an agent.) I've also optioned several manuscripts to production companies (though I've never actually had a movie made). Here's what I say to those who ask about all this: Books and movies exist in separate spheres. I know most of the players in the world of books, have done deal with every major house, and while I can't guarantee a deal, I can probably get someone to look at your proposal. But when it comes to movies, it's a completely different set of relationships. You have to know the production companies and the people in them, and that's a different set of folks, largely on a different coast. I've sold some to them, but I more frequently rely on a co-agent who I trust, and who works exclusively with dramatic properties. In my experience, the literary agent who claims to be well-connected in both worlds is usually full of BS. Many of the dramatic rights deals I've done were reactive — the phone rang, some reader for a production company had read a novel I represented, and wanted to talk about optioning the rights. The others were done with a co-agent who specializes in selling dramatic rights because this is a guy who has lived in that world for years, and has all the relationships he needs to make it happen. I don't represent screenplays, so I have no direct relationships for selling those.

So, in my view, it's not a matter of a novelist leaving his or her current literary agent, so much as adding another agent who specializes in selling movie rights. And the problem with that? It will make your literary agent feel threatened, because you can bet that the movie agent will try to convince you to drop your literary agent and let the movie agent handle the whole thing. (That's a stupid move, by the way, since I have never meet a group of people who were more full of it than movie agents.)

True story: Years ago, I lost a big client once to a fast-talking movie agent. I had an offer on the table from a major publisher for $250,000 — that's big money for a book, no matter who you're talking to. Mr Movie Agent was going to take the dramatic rights and sell them to a production company… but then he met with the author, convinced him that the quarter-of-a-mil was too small, and promised the author he could much better. Huge talk. Movies! T-shirts! Games! Your picture on New York billboards! So the author, who was a trusting sort, turned down the quarter-mil in order to go make a fortune with a guy who had never before sold a book. No kidding. So what happened? Nothing. They never sold the movie rights. They eventually got the same $250,000 offer from a smaller publisher, who the author had worked with in the past and had a bad experience with, and who the author had said he never wanted to work with again. And I'm sure Mr Movie Agent had some way of explaining why this was considerably better than what I'd lined up.

Look, if you have a foot problem, see a podiatrist. Don't talk with the dermatologist who convinces you that by curing your dandruff he can also make you walk again. Work with a good literary agent on your books, then ask questions about "who is going to shop my dramatic rights to Hollywood?" That's fair. Your agent might sell them directly, or might work with another person who specializes in them. But don't assume you need to leave your literary agent because some Hollywood type is convinced he or she can do it better. Most of them don't know the book side, don't know who to talk to, and won't help you in the world of publishing.

Happy New Year! I hope you had a fun-filled celebration, got home safely, and this morning you're probably asking the same question I am: What in the world is ABC thinking by having Dick Clark on the air? Look, I loved Dick Clark's American Bandstand. He's an iconic figure in American music, and looked 25 for roughly 40 years. But…the man had a stroke, for goodness' sake. You can't understand him. He's lost his voice. He sometimes can't think of the word he wants. He screwed up the countdown as the ball dropped (how hard is it to count down from 30?). It's like watching somebody's ancient grandpa on TV. Yikes. It makes you sad just to watch him. Why doesn't somebody put their arm around the man and say, "Times up, Mr. Clark. You've had a great run. Now we're going to let Ryan Seacrest run it on his own…"

And with that happy opening, I've had a bunch more fiction questions come in…

Patricia wrote and asked, "What's the difference between a fiction 'series' and a 'trilogy'? I understand in a series each book must stand alone, but what about a trilogy? It's all one big story broken up into sections, therefore each book does not stand alone. If you pick up the second or third book in a trilogy, you'll be lost because you need to start from the beginning…like the Lord of the Rings."

A series is a list of books that generally have a continuing character, though sometimes it's the place that continues, or it's a family saga with various characters all related. John D. MacDonald's wonderful Travis McGee series is a great example, featuring the yacht-living fixer getting in and out of scrapes. Sherlock Holmes, Jules Maigret, and Adam Dalgleish are other well-known examples of series characters, as are the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, Nick Carter, Perry Mason, etc. The 82nd Precinct series uses a setting for its series, and the characters come and go over time. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia is a series, yet it's not presented in a chronological manner (The Magician's Nephew is one of the last books, but it takes place ages before all the others). With each of these books, you can pull any one out, read it, and enjoy the story. Reading the other books is not necessary to enjoy the one you've got.

A trilogy is nothing more than a three-book series. Sometimes the story has three separate parts, such as Ludlum's Bourne trilogy or Auster's New York trilogy, but in those cases each story stands on its own. In a few cases a story is simply too long to tell in one volume, so the publisher has to release the novel in two or three volumes…but that's becoming very rare. In the real world of publishing and selling books, each book must stand on its own, and be able to be read and enjoyed without reading the others in series. And I'm sorry to say you use faulty logic in pointing out Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. That was not written as a trilogy — it was a prologue and six books, plus an appendix. It's got a fascinating history — it was only published in three volumes because of the paper shortages in Britain after the war.  I don't believe Tolkien referred to the books as a "trilogy."

Pam asked, "Is it true that fiction publishers prefer series for kids over a series for adults?"

While there's no hard and fast rule about this, I think it's fair to say that, in the real world, it's easier to sell a kids series than an adult series. That's because the investment in a kids series is smaller, and the publisher is hoping to get kids hooked on a series of sales. Much tougher to get adults to buy into a series — in fact, I know some publishers have a policy of not going beyond three books with any particular character.

Ty wrote and noted, "Every now and then you'll see a debut novelist in the general market pop out of nowhere with a six-figure advance after a fierce bidding war. How does that happen? Where does the buzz come from to create a frenzy like that for someone unknown?"

The reason it makes the headlines is because it's so rare, Ty. Sometimes a publisher gets a story that has huge potential. The storyline, the writing, the expected audience are all viewed as extremely strong. When I was a publisher with Time-Warner, we could pick two titles per year and call them a "make-book" — projects that were going to get a lot of marketing and publicity helps, and were going to be pushed by our sales staff, even though the author was unknown. Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian was a make-book (though I had nothing to do with that one), and it got so much pre-publication buzz it became the first ever debut novel to release as a New York Times #1 bestseller. And yes, the author was paid a king's ransom — a $2 million advance. That said, Kostova worked on her novel for ten years, and created a fascinating story. Still, it was the publisher who decided to make it a cause ce'le'bre. A similar thing happend a few years earlier at Time-Warner, when they paid $1 million to Nicholas Sparks for his debut novel, The Notebook.

A couple thoughts on these and other, similar, stories: This doesn't happen often. When it does, the story is always big and captivating. The writing always shines (and while I may not be the biggest Nick Sparks fan, I'm certainly willing to concede he writes a story that is readable and emotional). The publishing house really gets behind it and decides they are going to make this project a best-seller. They spend a lot of time, effort, and money on creating buzz for the book before it releases, then they support it with a ton of marketing after it releases. That's where these make-books come from. And you should know that they're risky — they don't always work; and when one fails, some editor somewhere is going to take the heat for costing the company so much money. 

Don and James wrote to ask, "Why do some people edit fiction with the wisdom of Obi Wan Kanobi, but when they write their own novels they have the mentality of Forest Gump?"

Because editing and writing are two different skills. They are related, but not the same. A great songwriter isn't necessarily a great singer. A world famous choreographer may not be one of the best dancers. I know you're a sports fan, and one of the things we've seen in sports is that a great player generally makes a lousy coach (in fact, in football and basketball, the best coaches were normally average or below-average players — perhaps because the game did not come easy to them, they needed to study the fundamentals more, and thus became better at thinking through the game). So a great editor, one who really understands what it takes to work on a good manuscript and make it even better, may not be able to write a great novelist herself. And there's no shame in that. I'm 50, and as I've gotten older, I've developed a much better sense of the work it takes to become great at anything. Malcolm Gladwell has surmised that it takes about 10,000 hours to become really great at anything. So (to go back to our coaching analogy) you can bet the guy coaching and winning with a professional sports team really knows his stuff — and, in fact, knows much more than all those dipstick fans writing letters to the editor and complaining about his team. The people making a living at singing are blessed by God with incredible voice and talent, and probably worked as hard as anyone else who becomes successful in a chosen career. I know that the people who dance professionally are SO good they expose the rest of us amateur hoofers. I've said it before — the editors who last in this business are generally VERY good at what they do.  Listen to them…even if they've never published a book.