Submissions
What does it mean for an author to be on submission? In a word, angst.
Being "on submission" means your agent has pitched your manuscript to editors at publishing houses. As the author, literally the only thing you have to do is wait. And you know what? It's balls.
I have no idea when I will get an offer. It could be tomorrow, next month, or next year. I get updates from my agent about rejections, so toward the end of the month, if I haven't heard anything, I know it's only going to be bad news. Meanwhile, a bunch of super big-name publishing houses have my MS in their hands, and I'm sitting here imagining them reading it, and freaking out. Did they read it already? Did they reject it already? Is it still in a pile to be read?
Submissions is both better and worse than querying.
Querying, when you're soliciting agents to represent you, is generally a first foray into the professional world. At that point, you have no idea if what you've written is any good, or marketable, or interesting. You throw it out there into the world and hope, hope, hope someone other than yourself falls in love with it. You also have to do a lot more--research agents, monitor social media, write emails, check query tracking websites, pick when and how often and to whom to send your query.
Submissions, on the other hand, comes after you already have an agent who loves your work and is ready to champion it. Your book's had professional eyes on it, and you've got the validation of even having an agent. Also, that agent is the one who writes the pitch letters, who fields the rejections, and who basically manages the whole process. So it should be... easier? More hopeful? Yet, the trouble is, with this being my first book, I'm waiting on a more directly career-deciding email. Which publisher will offer? What sort of contract or advance will I get? How big a deal do the editors actually think this book might be (or not)? (This isn't to say getting an agent's offer of representation isn't a major career milestone, but it felt more open-ended).
So for now, I sit, and wait. And wait. And wait.
Being "on submission" means your agent has pitched your manuscript to editors at publishing houses. As the author, literally the only thing you have to do is wait. And you know what? It's balls.
I have no idea when I will get an offer. It could be tomorrow, next month, or next year. I get updates from my agent about rejections, so toward the end of the month, if I haven't heard anything, I know it's only going to be bad news. Meanwhile, a bunch of super big-name publishing houses have my MS in their hands, and I'm sitting here imagining them reading it, and freaking out. Did they read it already? Did they reject it already? Is it still in a pile to be read?
Submissions is both better and worse than querying.
Querying, when you're soliciting agents to represent you, is generally a first foray into the professional world. At that point, you have no idea if what you've written is any good, or marketable, or interesting. You throw it out there into the world and hope, hope, hope someone other than yourself falls in love with it. You also have to do a lot more--research agents, monitor social media, write emails, check query tracking websites, pick when and how often and to whom to send your query.
Submissions, on the other hand, comes after you already have an agent who loves your work and is ready to champion it. Your book's had professional eyes on it, and you've got the validation of even having an agent. Also, that agent is the one who writes the pitch letters, who fields the rejections, and who basically manages the whole process. So it should be... easier? More hopeful? Yet, the trouble is, with this being my first book, I'm waiting on a more directly career-deciding email. Which publisher will offer? What sort of contract or advance will I get? How big a deal do the editors actually think this book might be (or not)? (This isn't to say getting an agent's offer of representation isn't a major career milestone, but it felt more open-ended).
So for now, I sit, and wait. And wait. And wait.
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