EDITORIAL: The Value of an Agent

I've just been reading through my first proper book contract. Exciting, I know, or at least it should be. I had always imagined it would arrive on my doormat with a hefty THUNK, and I'd slice open the manilla envelope with my ivory letter-opener and sit down at my oak desk in my green leather swivel chair to sign the last few pages with a flourish of my fountain pen.

The reality is rather different.

When the contract arrived in my Gmail inbox, I excitedly opened the PDF and began to pour over the clauses and sub-clauses on my budget laptop. I suddenly realised I know nothing about legal jargon, contracts or publishing deals. However much I had rehearsed the moment in my head, I know now that I am but a child in the publishing world, innocently gazing upwards at the grown ups with wonder. And you know what? Reading through all that legalese is a tad scary.

Luckily I have an agent.

“Are you happy with the option clause?” she emailed.

“Um...yeah. Very.”

“Really? I think I'll press for a clearer definition. And the third party TV/film rights?”

“Yeah, great!” I smiled like a buffoon.

“I think we should ask for a better royalty split. No harm in asking!”

“Sure...”

“Did you see the clause about waving your right to integrity?”

“I wasn't aware I had any...”

My agent was invaluable in looking through the details of the contract with a fine tooth-comb and arguing the case for better deals in certain areas. I simply would have signed the thing and everything would have been fine, but contracts guard against the unknown. If you don't sort out the tiny details now, you could regret them later, especially if your book goes global and you didn't think to query clause 34, section D/ii (or something). If you don't have an agent, don't worry, but an experienced set of eyes would be helpful at this point, such as the Writers' Guild or the Society of Authors. But what ever you do, when that contract arrives, try to enjoy it.


Image:(c) Evgeniy Lukyanov http://www.sxc.hu/profile/Vjik86