The "how I got my agent" post is a traditional rite-of-passage for any aspiring author, and I’m about eight months late with it. When I first heard from my agent, I was a ranger at Yellowstone for the summer, focusing mainly on telling people when Old Faithful was going to erupt and trying not to be murdered by the most murder-y park in the NPS . Since then, I’ve moved back to South Carolina for the off-season, landed a publishing deal, illustrated my cover, drafted two companion books, and am anxiously awaiting my publication date of May 17. But signing with an agent was my first huge step forward. The first, and potentially most significant.
The story about how I got my agent is, perhaps, no more intriguing than anybody else’s, except there were probably more bison involved than most. Here’s more or less how it went, written inexplicably in second-person.
To everyone still in the grips of querying—there’s no advice I can give you that you haven’t already read a hundred times over. Keep at it. Keep writing. Make a point of connecting with people going through the same journey. Vent (but not unprofessionally). Cry (long and hard). Rejoice (longer and harder).
And stay the hell away from bison, because seriously, all they want is to see you suffer.
Emily B. Martin
Author and Illustrator