Not my words (oh, that I might be so eloquent) but those of John Updike, whose death was announced this week.  But what a wonderful phrase to describe the high calling of writers, whose job it is to memorialize and bring to luminous signficance the small everyday worlds that we all inhabit. And what a reminder as we struggle with the issues that dominate our time and attention - whether it be chores, getting the children to school (or keeping them entertained at home on snow days), battling with getting Page 26, paragraph 3,
line 6 absolutely perfect, opening the mail/inbox to yet another request or rejection . . . Yes, most of our lives are very mundane - but when seen through the eyes of a writer, there is also beauty to be found.

All this is in my mind as I move at speed through an incredibly busy couple of weeks, just about keeping my head above water.  Or perhaps I should say above the snowline, since we’ve been ‘deep and crisp and even’ here since Monday. Not good when your vehicle is the fabled red-and-black Mini Cooper with teeny-tiny wheels, no 4-wheel drive, and a distinctly stunted stature next to the mighty pick-up trucks that stare down at us from a great height. So I’ve been staying in, ploughing through a ton of stuff - concluding a contract that’s taken months to negotiate (but all the better for waiting), making a couple of submissions to publishers, doing a lot of reading, talking to a prospective author about her manuscript, helping my Rights People colleagues prepare materials for Bologna - and talking daily to Julia Churchill who started on Monday over in our London office.  It’s a lot of fun having Julia on board and, as you Brits will discover (if you’re lucky enough to have her sign you up), she’s got a pretty good sense of humour and a great turn of phrase!  You’ll find out a lot more about Julia next week when I’ll be interviewing her on this blog, by which time you should also spot some amendments to the Greenhouse website to reflect her arrival.

But it’s not just the weekdays that are packed - it’s weekends too at the moment.  Last weekend’s trip to Florida for the annual conference of the Space Coast Writers’ Guild was quite a treat - not only because of the gorgeously balmy weather or my fleeting moments of dreaming solitude on the white sands of Cocoa Beach, but also because I met some really tremendous people there. Many aspiring and highly committed writers (lots of one-on-one sessions listening to pitches), agents like Deidre Knight and Lucienne Diver of The Knight Agency, Jennifer Schober of Spencerhill Associates (hi, Jennifer!), Mary Sue Seymour - and more.  And then there were the editors - Alyson Day of HarperCollins and Dedi Felman of Simon & Schuster.  It’s always great fun to get together with others in the industry and shoot the breeze informally, but we also joined forces for a panel in which we all pitched in to answers writers’ questions about the publishing business. 

So now it’s nearing the end of another hectic week and I’m packing my bag again to fly to New York at 5 am tomorrow. YES, I REALLY DID SAY FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING. My New York trips are always busy and this is no exception as I grab a cab from the airport to the offices of Farrar Straus to see various editors, then to Harper to see Michelle Corpora of Greenwillow, moving swiftly on to Clarion’s Jennifer Wingertzahn via a stop-off with new Hyperion publisher Stephanie Lurie (fairly recently moved from Dutton). Alisha Niehaus of Dial rounds off the afternoon before we both head down to the pre-conference cocktail party that launches SCBWI’s Winter Conference. 

But I’m still lingering over the passing of John Updike and the eloquence of his words, quoted by the New York Times yesterday. 

‘To condense from one’s memories and fantasies and small discoveries dark marks on paper which become handsomely reproducible many times over still seems to me, after nearly 30 years concerned with the making of books, a magical act, and a delightful technical process.  To distribute oneself thus, as a kind of confetti shower falling upon the heads and shoulders of mankind out of bookstores and the pages of magazines is surely a great privilege and a defiance of the usual earthbound laws whereby human beings make themselves known to one another.’

I bid you good day and the most pleasant of weekends.

You can learn a lot of things from an Inauguration.  Things like the unique wonder of the Constitution.  The colourful weave of centuries of history.  The truth that you can usually reach your destination in the end - if you try hard enough, and wait long enough. And that life is big and amazing, and that something (or someone) extraordinary can grow from the smallest and most unlikely of beginnings. You can learn that there is power in believing and striving and longing. And that there is always, always hope.

You can also learn that it’s no use going to the Washington Mall on a frigid January day, in the company of two million other people, unless you can locate a bathroom.  Because without a bathroom, and with a steaming hot, double-shot cappuccino inside you, you may be doomed.  DOOMED, I tell you. DOOMED.

You see, without the small necessities, the big wonders can rapidly lose their gloss. Without Mr Don and his 7000 Johns you may as well cancel your travel plans and stay home with the TV set, because for you the Inauguration will metamorphose from a glorious celebration of this nation’s finest moment to an alarming rush through the crowds to the nearest museum that will let you in to its amenities.  And that, presidential supporters, will not be fun!

Yes, we DC residents have become very knowledgeable about these matters; the Post has been full of little else.  Will 7000 be enough?  Is there the statistical evidence to support that figure? What fate may befall this great city if there’s been an underestimate? We are bombarded with interviews with Mr Don’s employees and are well versed in their various skills (none of which you need to hear about, since they include ‘suctioning’). We’ve read the career resumes that have brought them to this high point in their professional lives.

Today I ventured into the city to preview the Inauguration - and the Johns themselves (if you’re unlucky enough to have opened this post before a photo is attached, then please return shortly as all will be explained).  Striding at speed through the frozen city, clad in furry Uggs, giant Puffa jacket and copious layers, I took in the majesty and thrill of this great forthcoming event. Barriers were broken down as strangers laughed and chatted, photographing each other against backdrops of flags and banners, monuments and memorials, while enterprising entrepreneurs attempted to seduce them to spend two dollars for a photo alongside a cardboard cutout of the president-to-be.

But I am a literary agent from top to toe, even in the freezing wind of a winter’s day.  And as I pondered (from the depths of my fur-fringed hood) the strange juxtaposition of the grand and the prosaic, the epic and the basic, the Inauguration and the lines and lines of Don’s glorious Johns, I had some strange but, I believe, highly significant thoughts.  And believe it or not, they are related to writing!

Yes, you need the great storyline, the thrilling plot, the fabulous action, the big ideas.  But you also need the small things - the details and finesse that don’t attract much attention unless they’re just not there.  Because the small things are very, very important - and without them the big things just don’t quite seem to matter as much. Yes, it’s like an Inauguration minus the Johns!

What kinds of small things do I mean?  Well, taking care not to repeat words in a way that stops the flow of your sentence. Really thinking through grammar and punctuation so that you create a seamless line the reader can absorb without having to read it twice. Knowing your characters so well that you don’t inadvertently change their names halfway through (I see this a lot; even ‘professional’ writers slip up). Making sure you provide the reader with enough explanation when needed.  Being consistent with details and information and checking all the ends tie in together to create the whole.  Writing is about the macro - but it’s also very much about the micro.  Dream big dreams, think big thoughts, and become a writer of power, panache and vision - but also a nit-picker with a passion for detail.

So we prepare to inaugurate a president, and have the audacity to believe - in ourselves, in the future, in justice, in a better world . . .  But don’t forget Don’s humble Johns.  Because without them you won’t be contemplating the reinvigoration of the banking system, or life in a post-racial world - or how we might collectively end global poverty.  No, you will be scurrying through the crowd, intent and very, very nervous. And in what may be a unique piece of agenting insight, I can assure you that there are literary parallels. For no writer can succeed unless they master the details as well as the big picture. The most important things can be small, not terribly glamorous, and even a little bit aggravating.  But just see what disasters can happen when they’re not done right!

Wishing you all a wonderful, inspiring, and supremely comfortable Inauguration Day, wherever you may be.

(PS:  Is this the very first agent’s blog to be written on the subject of bathrooms? I think it possible. )

Welcome to my very first blog of 2009 - and welcome to the Greenhouse. If you haven’t visited us before, I do hope you’ll continue to drop in and enjoy keeping up with news of the agency, which now enters its second year - after a fairly storming start.

But first, I have some very sad news for those of you who are regular readers.  It’s taken me a few days to be able to face writing this and it’s still far from easy.  Our beloved Greenhouse Hound died on Monday night.  In fact, I can now tell you that his name was Hogan - much better known as Hogey.  A pure white Golden Retriever, nearly fourteen years old, and the sweetest, kindest, cleverest dog you could ever wish to know.  Hogey was facing various health issues and these overtook him over the Christmas break, with an incredibly fast slide downwards since last Thursday.  As we watched him deteriorate and turn in on himself, we knew he was ready to go and that we couldn’t let him suffer any more. We were able to spend time sitting with him, talking to him (although he’d been stone deaf for the past two years) and stroking him, before the moment agreed with our wonderful vet came, and we took him on his last journey in the back of the Mini Cooper.

He was a dog who gave joy to everyone he met.  Strangers would stop us in the street to say how beautiful he was, and he never lost his happiness at meeting people, especially children, whom he loved.  The office feels very empty without his large, shambling presence; despite the arthritis of his final years he would haul himself up the stairs and collapse on my manuscripts with a groan, doing all he could to interrupt me with small but very clear reminders about the urgency of lunch or walkies. He loved to climb on to the sofa with me, entwining himself around my legs to get as close as possible. And he loved his multitudes of stuffed toys - especially Polar Bear, various ducks, a grey and disgusting Snoopy. No creature ever took as much pleasure in being given a new toy, which he would chew, throw around and growl over with huge delight before going out to his private stuffed-animal-stash to grab a new one.

Right now I see Hogey all around the house and yard. Lying out on the deck with his nose stuck between the bars looking for his mortal enemy, the Fox.  Rolling down the slope in the front yard, a look of great delight on his face as he scratched his back on the long, slow downhill slide. Coming in out of the rain and going straight into his big dog-crate - because of course he knew his feet were wet and must be dried off. Carrying a towel to the washing machine in the hopes that his ‘helpfulness’ might elicit a Milkbone. Struggling up the stairs at bedtime - one of his favourite moments of the day, when he and I would lie on the floor together and commune a while.  In his final months he was increasingly vocal - groaning, sighing, smacking those black lips, and barking when he felt we didn’t jump to it quite fast enough. He was all personality; a big character.

So now we move on, but I’m posting here one of his very last photos, taken on Sunday when he’d struggled down to the backyard one last time. We can’t imagine how he got down there - he could barely walk - and I fear you’ll think me soppy if I say it’s as if he wanted to survey his empire one last time.  I knew it was important to remember that moment.  Rest in peace, Hogey Bear, and I hope that somewhere you are free and young again, romping with your friends.

But January now lies before us and I turn my head towards all the exciting things that are in the future.  On January 24, Greenhouse marks the first anniversary of its inception - and oh, how much has been achieved in one short year.  Lots of deals done, a number of lives changed, speeches made, many miles travelled, friends gained . . . and I wonder what 2009 will hold. One thing I can definitely tell you is that on January 26 my new colleague Julia Churchill starts with Greenhouse over in London.  Just to clarify (because some of you have already been sending submissions marked for Julia), Julia will be focusing on building our list of British authors and selling to the UK market.  While we’ll be keeping a degree of flexibility between us, and will no doubt be speaking daily, her efforts will focus on the UK, with me mainly focusing on the USA (with some notable exceptions).  All will become clear as we make changes to the website (submission guidelines etc) over the coming weeks that will reflect Julia joining the team.  I’ll also be interviewing Julia on this blog in early February so you British readers in particular can get to know her a little. 

There are other good things in the pipeline too.  Today (I believe) an in-depth interview I’ve done for Cynthia Leitich Smith will go live on her blog.  So if you fancy reading a lot more of my pontifications, do tune in to Cynsations!  Then in a couple of weeks I’m off to the Space Coast Writer’s Conference over in Cocoa Beach, Florida.  Well, you know, someone had to go to the sunshine state in winter, so why not me? The month rounds off with a swift trip over to New York for part of the SCBWI Winter Conference, hopefully fitting in appointments with a number of publishers at the same time, plus the chance to meet lots of old and new editor/agent friends at the brilliant cocktail party that kicks off the conference.

So January is a busy month, and my thoughts are already turning towards Bologna, which comes particularly early this year - in late March.  Should be really exciting, with Julia popping over briefly and also DEVIL’S KISS author, Sarwat Chadda, making the journey to meeet his international publishers.  Last Bologna Greenhouse was a little babe-in-arms.  This year we are all grown up, and my Rights People colleagues have high hopes for a number of our titles on the international market as final manuscripts become available.

Meanwhile my reading pile is towering.  So many of you have been writing like dervishes over the break, for which many congratulations!  I’m gradually making my way through the piles of both new submissions and full manuscripts, and I hope not to have to keep you waiting too long.

Today I look back at the past - all our happiness with our wonderful dog Hogey, and the huge and aching hole he has left in our lives. I know that soon the painful memories of the past few days will give way to the happy recollection of his long life, well lived. But I also look forward to the future and to what I hope will be a challenging but successful year for us all.

Take care, all of you. 

Here it is - my last post of 2008. And no doubt, like me, you’re running around doing all those last-minute jobs that have to be done before the holidays can properly begin.  Picking the final gifts, grappling with many square feet of wrapping paper, rolling out the dough for the Christmas cookies or the pastry for the mincepies (depending where on the globe you call home). But perhaps also like me you feel that the main event of Christmas is being with your family and best friends - the people who really make this time of year special for you, and for whom, like me, you gladly travel long distances.

The photo should give you a clue about where I am. Yes, it is London’s Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, and it’s great to be here at this special time of year - though I also miss our Virginia home too (especially our street’s annual sleigh ride - well actually, more of a hay-wagon ride, minus the hay but plus a few wine bottles!). My family can all be together this year and that already makes it a very special Christmas for me.  The trip will include lots of fun things - a couple of shows up in Drury Lane and Covent Garden, and of course a trip to Oxford Street to see the fabulous Christmas lights. 

If you’re thinking of sending me a submission you might want to wait until the first week of January when I’ll be planted at my desk once again, all refreshed and raring to see what the new year will bring.  The ubiquitous Blackberry (aka the Crackberry) has been put to sleep in the depths of a suitcase, only to be pulled out for disasters of a rare and dreadful nature.  Silent night, holy night, and all is peaceful at the Greenhouse.

So I wish you all the happiest of holidays and New Year celebrations and many good things in 2009.  Who knows what the new year will bring - almost certainly many challenges for us all, given the global economic climate.  But also, I hope and believe, many great and exciting events and achievements on a personal and professional level.  I wish you all happy and satisfying writing, a sense that you are making progress in your literary craft and, above all, enjoying what you do.

Thank you, so many of you, for sharing the adventure of 2008 with me.  I’ve loved getting to know many of you in small and large ways.  Have yourselves a merry little Christmas - and I’ll leave you with the great words from John’s Gospel that I was so privileged to read at our church’s service of Lessons and Carols last week.

IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD.

The first thing I should say is . . .  Look!  Sarah’s blog has finally moved into the twentieth-first century; my web-meister, Rowan, has tinkered with the mechanics in the engine-room to allow photos to be inserted.  It’s taken a while and cost thousands of lives, but I’m very excited to be able to reveal our very first image from the Greenhouse.

You see, I felt we all needed some fun in our lives. Because basically the news is Not Terribly Good.  It feels like every time I log on another troubling announcement emanates from the transatlantic book industry. Pay freezes, acquisition prohibitions, staff laid off, retail sales sliding in the final months of 2008, rumours of sales (companies, not book rights), articles telling me that it’s going to be tough to sell debut or literary fiction. And now the most brilliant get-out has emerged - the recession rejection: We’re sorry, but the recession means we don’t feel we can offer to acquire this great manuscript. Well, it’s a lot easier and less painful than admitting that you don’t find the concept or voice or characterization quite outstanding enough.

So am I downcast and miserable as I sit here with the rain sliding down my windowpane?  No I’m not.  Or perhaps (thinking towards the January 20 inauguration, where I shall be flocking together with about 4 million others) I should say: YES WE CAN!

Yes, I believe we can sell books in 2009. And yes, I fully intend to do so.  The children’s area of this industry has always been a little more resilient in bad times than adult books, which should give us hope. And I still believe absolutely that a great manuscript/a great book will be in demand and find its home. But what we do have to recognize is a trickle-down kind of caution. Publishers are under a lot of pressure to make the best commercial decisions, and I can imagine that all houses will be putting their editors through an acquisition process that will make the Inquisition look gentle.  Dollars, pounds - and potentially an awful lot of them - are at stake every time an editor buys a book; not just the acquisition money that buys the rights, but all the other money that goes into production, overheads, publicity and marketing, warehousing. The cost of having an editor sitting at a desk in a room in New York or London is jaw-dropping (I saw the figures for my own seat, my own desk, a few years ago and had a new reverence for my little plot of publishing ground); the cost of an hour of a publisher’s time is very significant when you cost it all in.  And as for agents?  Well, their business doesn’t make any money at all unless they seal a deal (you ask Jerry McGuire). We are, it must be said, quite brave people.

So where does all this leave us?  It leaves us under pressure to make very, very good decisions - which, of course, one only knows fully with the wonderful gift of hindsight. Publishers will be under pressure to acquire the work that will be easy and rewarding to market.  Agents will be under even more pressure to represent the manuscripts that have the best chance of selling. The work that will be squeezed hardest will be the new literary voice, the gentle or not-quite-standout storyline, the experimental, the work that lacks an evident commercial angle, the voice that’s nice but maybe, possibly, not quite interesting enough or that needs to develop a little more. Breathe in, because our belts just tightened a notch.

But having looked down from the tightrope and seen the market, I now intend to look up - to the wonderful world of this industry which I love so much.  It has weathered a lot of storms in the past, and I say again, the best writing, the best ideas, will sell - and deals will be done.  I look at Publishers Marketplace daily and see them - rows and rows of books sold, new writers getting launched, gripping plot lines seeing the light of day, even as bad news trickles in.  Because the fact is, no publisher will survive or retain/grow market share without product - and the product is books.  No one will want to miss out on acquiring strong work for the future, not least because who knows what the market will be doing in 2010 or 2011 when many of these new books will appear on the shelves.  If you don’t speculate now, you can’t accumulate later.  Every sentient agent or publisher is scared of missing a big one!

So what does this mean for you writers out there?  Be informed, read what’s going on in the industry - but then clear your head to write the book that only you can write.  It’s what I’ve said throughout this blog - carve out the absolutely strongest plot you can find, know where its commercial hook and focus lie, and learn the craft of writing with all the means at your disposal. We need a standout story, an original and effective voice, characters that leap off the page and into our hearts.  Achieve all that and you too will be saying, YES WE CAN!

But as this damp and grey day drips relentlessly on, I suggest you forget your plotting and revisions and anxieties.  Because here to amuse you is a piccy of the hotseat of the Greenhouse USA. You will notice that it is an unusual agency:  its senior staff member has completely disappeared, leaving behind only a pair of green shoes. Has she evaporated? Or fled the country? Then, of course, there’s her assistant - the ever-faithful and ever-snoring Hound (NB: My thanks to blog-reader Emily Cooper who wrote expressing her virtual affection for this critter).  How can one feel even remotely dismal when looking at that malodorous mound of fur?

So, all together now.  We’re going to shout in unison and very loudly: YES WE CAN!

Yes, it’s Monday - and I can finally reveal my exciting news.  The Greenhouse is growing! 

A press release went out today to both US and UK trade press, announcing that I’ve appointed Julia Churchill as a new Greenhouse agent, responsible for helping to grow our British stable of authors. Oh, and I’m leaving for the airport in half an hour to collect Julia, who’s spent Thanksgiving in Boston and is flying on to Washington to spend a day or two with me here in the hothouse. Much plotting, planning and bonding will ensue, as we talk about the future - and of course as she takes the final test:  Does the Greenhouse Hound approve of her? Will she give him his requisite number of milkbones?

Julia is British and will be based in London. She’ll be out and about a good deal attending writers’ conferences and events, and generally sniffing out both new and established writers who would like to come and join us in the Greenhouse.  I know you’ll want to know all about her, so I can tell you that she’s very nice (and funny), she is younger than me (not difficult), she loves working with authors, and she’s highly thought of within the British children’s books industry.  Before joining Greenhouse she spent several years agenting for the Darley Anderson Agency in London where she developed quite a track record for finding new talent.  Like me, she’ll be looking for that spark of potential and working with writers in an editorial way prior to submission.  Julia has that small streak of craziness that I love (and with which I identify!); I knew she was the one for the job when it became clear she was prepared to leap on a plane from London and fly out to see me at twenty-four hours’ notice. Now that’s the kind of agent I like!

While I’ll continue to represent my existing American and British authors to both markets - and no doubt take on more British authors myself in the future - Julia’s appointment will enable me to focus even more on the US market, knowing that all bases are being covered in the UK.  I’m out and about such a lot in the States myself now, and have so many opportunities coming my way, that this will make me even more sure that I’m not missing anything.

Given the Greenhouse only launched in late January 2008, I am really proud that we have a platform to grow in this way - and given the tough economic times in both countries.  But with seven debut authors already with deals (and the beginnings of foreign sales too), it would have been silly not to have looked to grow at this stage. Do I have plans for world domination?  Well, let’s just say that it’s my ambition for Greenhouse to be the agency of choice for children’s/teen authors on both sides of the Atlantic.

Lots of things to think about, lots of things to do.  But first I’ll welcome Julia to the heart of the Greenhouse this afternoon and offer her a nice cup of tea. After all, she is a Brit!

Cheers, everyone - and here’s to the future.