Nancy Gallt, literary agent, interviews her client, Linda Z., before an audience.
Nancy Gallt: Linda Z., editor of children's books for nearly 40 years, has just published her first picture book. What was it like, Linda?
Linda Z.: [calmly] When Arthur Levine made an offer, I was thrilled. True, there were some delays, but they were completely understandable, and I had no problem with... [Bursts into tears.] No! It was horrible! My precious book, my baby! Every day I imagined the finished art being hand-delivered to the designer, and then Arthur told me it was postponed. Three times!
NG: [to this seemingly different person speaking through Linda] Who are you?
Sally: [speaking through LZ] I'm Sally, and this is my first book! When you called about the offer, I was born. And I was ecstatic.
NG: Then what happened?
LZ: I met with Arthur. It was delightful—except I didn't know she was going to be there. Sally actually told Arthur she could write several sequels if he would just say the word. I wanted to die.
NG: She didn't! But that's a sure sign of a total amateur.
Sally: Oh, big deal. I knew he'd want more. I could see them, like Nancy Drew or the Magic School Bus—paperbacks, stuffed animals, a Saturday morning TV show....
NG: What did Arthur say?
Sally: He said he'd hold the thought, but that it was a little premature since the book hadn't been published yet. Little did I know how long "yet" would be.
LZ: Sally, picture books are the least controllable kind of children's book, since everything depends on the illustrator. It was only four years. You must be patient.
Sally:Patient?! How could I be patient? After the second postponement I called—
NG: Yes, I remember. You were sobbing.
Sally: I felt helpless. I'm a writer—aren't I powerless enough by definition? [To audience:] Aren't we totally dependent on clueless publishers who just copy other publishers? On people who never return phone calls, but who want exclusive rights to a project forever? Who claim to care about "authors, not books" but who won't accept unsolicited material and can't publish midlist titles because they've spent fortunes on celebrity books?
Audience: [Which consists entirely of writers.] Sal-ly! Sal-ly! Sal-ly!
NG: Your take on this, Linda?
LZ: Editors have more productive things to do than read the slush pile. [Boos from the audience.] It's true! Do you have any idea how awful 99% of those manuscripts are? The cutesy little mice; the preachy "let's tolerate those who are different" stories; the derivative 800-page fantasies; the poems that lack rhyme, meter and wit; the "just be yourself" messages; the 15-year-old first-person whiners...
Sally: You'll never understand. This is my first, my only. There may never be another one. What if I'm a one-book wonder, like... like Harper Lee?
LZ: It always amazes me that writers think I only have their book to work on. If they could just see what's on my desk or what my calendar looks like.
Sally: I don't care about those other books or your stupid calendar! I only care about my book!
[Silence.]
NG: So, do you two have anything in common? What do you worry about?
LZ: I worry about whether I can be critical without being destructive. It's not easy.
Sally: I worry about honesty, too. Have I glommed onto the cliché because it's easier to use someone else's ideas or words? Am I being guarded because I'm afraid of revealing too much about myself in my work?
NG: What makes you happy?
LZ: Reading a submission and thinking, "Wow, this is great." Opening a finished book, inhaling the smell of paper and printer's ink and knowing what promise it holds for young readers.
Sally: I found that working with a perceptive editor was such a gratifying experience. I learned so much!
LZ: We couldn't exist without one another.
NG: So true. Well, this has been inspiring. Any questions?
Audience member: How can I find an agent? Linda Zuckerman's picture book, I Will Hold You 'Til You Sleep, illustrated by Jon J Muth, was published in October 2006. Her middle-grade novel, A Taste for Rabbit, will be published next fall.
