There’s no doubt that the Internet is a fantastic resource for fledgling and established writers alike. You can tweet, friend, and chat with editors, agents, and other writers. You can do research to find an agent, or participate in various discussion forums about hot topics in publishing.And of course, there’s the juicy publishing gossip—which editors have quit to become agents? Which agents have quit to become editors? Which editors/agents have quit publishing cold turkey?I make it a point not to read author discussion boards or forums, but on the few occasions I’ve stumbled across a discussion between authors, the tone and content of some of the discussions has caused me great concern. Which authors submitted what to whom? Which agents have accepted, rejected, never replied? Some authors even go as far as keeping tallies of how many fulls and partials they have out, as well as posting verbatim copies of their rejection letters for all to see.So the question is this: When does use of the Internet as a valuable tool for gaining knowledge about your writing, making connections, and getting your work published become plain old Internet chatter?I’m a firm believer that too much Internet chatter makes writers less productive, as it fosters a less-than-savory keeping up with the Joneses type mentality:“So-and-so has gotten four requests for a full ms and I haven’t gotten any.”“I submitted to agent X three weeks before my friend, and she’s already gotten a response and I haven’t.”While I think it’s great to have support and a place to connect with other writers who are going through the same process, obsessing over this type of minutia takes writers away from the most important part of their job.So have fun Tweeting and Facebooking and chatting. But as you do these things please, please,please don't lose focus on what brought you here in the first place.Say it with me now: Writing a great book!

I have a confession to make: I follow very few blogs closely anymore.I mean, I look at some occasionally. I click on links that people send me and read swell interviews, or industry news, or just look at Strange Things that make me laugh aloud. I do that. But the dedicated daily reading of the blogs in my RSS feed reader? Not so much.I used to follow something like sixty blogs via my blog reader. I would quickly catch up on Read Roger, Maud Newton, Galleycat, Alice's CWIM blog, Fuse #8, and other publishing focused blogs, sure, but ... Do I really need to catch up on the Sartorialist? (Probably not, even though I love looking at the pictures of well-dressed people on the street.) And the Daily Howler and other political wonk blogs? Or the many awesome blogs about design? Or the hilarious Goths in Hot Weather? Or blogs by my clients and friends or about copyright theft or even just the tremendous Boing Boing or—well, you get the picture. Whenever I open my RSS reader, I end up reading much more than just the obligatory industry blogs. Because while I enjoy keeping up with book business scuttlebutt, I enjoy even more other people's playgrounds. You learn such weird things there!Skimming all of that takes time. Even boiling them down to a dozen or so, the reading of my blogroll still took too much time. So I've slacked.But does this mean that writers out there—new or established—should share my digital anomie? Should throw up their virtual hands and head to the beach? Of course not. It may be hard to keep tabs on this modern world, but keeping yourself involved in it is another thing entirely. We don't want to mistake one thing (who has time to read all of that?) with another (who is going to read my rantings?).I'm not sure what, in the end, my point is here, except to say that (a) yes, the blogosphere can be exhausting; and (b) I still think we should dive right in.Readers and editors and industry big mouths and, yes, even agents, want to be able to find you, to learn more, to ask you about that book you've written. Internet fatigue or no, it is where we turn first when we have a question about anything. Even if you can't follow all the blogs you'd like to, shouldn't you try to contribute a verse? Isn't the idea that sooner or later, someone may want to listen? Do you all feel that without immediate rewards for blogging that it isn't worthwhile?

(Crow and Companion driving around small California town before wedding.)Companion (reading sign): What's a grinder?Crow: You know, it's like a hoagie. Or a speedie. Or, like, a hero.Companion: Like a sub?Crow: Yeah!Companion: So you mean a sandwich. Why don't you just say sandwich? You silly Americans. So many names for "sandwich." It's like Eskimos with "snow."

I have heard talk before of writers who not only prefer that their agents not weigh in on a manuscript, but actively discourage it. The agent's job, these people feel, is to sell the book, to exploit the various rights associated with that book as thoroughly as possible. And weighing in on the story? Monkeying around with the structure? Fine-tuning the language? That is the job of the editor and the editor alone. Or so these writers feel. (I also heard that this was discussed briefly at the recent SCBWI national conference in Los Angeles, where Lin Oliver asked something to the effect of, "What if the writer doesn't want to wait the months required to revise for you?")I can understand their position. And not just because I came up through the editorial side of things. As an editor, the last thing I wanted was to have the agent meddling in my relationship with the author's manuscript. Of course—and this is key—that was only after I had purchased the book. And that is really when the agent needs to step aside and let the author and editor do their work together.But before that, that's when the agent can help the author shape and refine her manuscript. It may take a little longer to bring that manuscript to market, but I'd argue that the work done up front will pay off handsomely: The manuscript will feel more complete and well-realized; an editor can slot it onto an earlier publication list if it is "almost there"; and because it is developed so much, it should fetch a higher price from interested editors.Or that's how I feel about it, at any rate. How about you? I know you all discuss just how much an agent should shape a manuscript. Does that tinkering drive you up the wall? Or do you feel that is part of the service he or she provides?

Many of you know that I’m still relatively new to this whole agenting thing. In fact, last month I hit my one-year anniversary of being in the business (although I’d received an MA in Writing and been involved in the SCBWI before that), and next month I’ll hit one year since my first sale. After that, the milestones get a lot more boring: one year since my first conference, one year since that time I fell asleep and missed my stop on the subway, one year since writing this post about one-year anniversaries…But I digress. A question that used to come up a lot when I would offer representation was, “Why should I go with a young and unproven agent?” Even though I’m not as green as I once was, the unproven vs. established agent question is one that writers should consider very carefully when sending out their precious babies. Established agents have many distinct advantages over new agents—they have more connections, often have proven track records, and just have more experience in general. Their clients likely won’t have questions that they’ve never had to answer before. If they’ve been at it for ten or more years, chances are there’s a reason for their success and why they have lots and lots of sales.Newer agents, on the other hand, are a bit more of a wildcard. Maybe they don’t have the right connections. Maybe they’re not savvy about what books can sell, or how to get your book to the next level. So why would anyone ever want to sign with one, anyway?Well, the one distinct advantage a new agent usually has over a seasoned vet is time. It just stands to reason that with fewer clients to work with, a new agent will be able to focus more of his or her time on YOU and YOUR book. If they offer representation, it’s because they’re really excited about your work. Chances are, they’ll fight really hard to see it published. That’s not to say an established agent won’t, but, as with families who have one or two children vs. those crazy houses (my apologies if you’re from one of them) with 14 kids running around, the focus tends to be more spread out. The parent of a single child has eyes only for little Ricky or Cory. In the same way, a newer agent may be able to invest more time in shaping a manuscript into something that can sell.While this is certainly not always the case, a lot of times newer agents are more plugged into technology like Twitter, Facebook, or even blogs. They’re out there for writers, because in many cases they have to be in order to make themselves known. Newer agents are also more likely to form relationships with newer editors, who are just as hungry to discover great projects and spend time shaping them.Of course, a new agent could burn out in eight months and never be heard from again. He could finally score that record deal he’s been working toward, or maybe that line of clothing he’s been developing just got picked up by Calvin Klein. With an established agent, you usually have the confidence that they’re going to stick around for a while, even if you’re not always on the top of their to-do list.So what says you? What is or was more important to you in your own agent search?

Ah, the question that plagues many of the authors poring over our submission guidelines page!While I can’t speak for the other crows here at Upstart, I prefer to begin—very simply-- at the beginning.Reading the first twenty pages of your manuscript allows me to get acquainted with your story and your characters, and to get a sense of the vibe of your narrative. It’s tougher for me to do that if I’m jumping into your story at chapter twenty-seven.So if you’re sitting out there in cyberspace, wringing your hands over which chapters to send, take heart! The bones of a truly great story will shine through, even if you think your opening chapter is a bit on the clunky side.I’ll make a deal with you: I promise to approach your manuscript with an open mind if you promise to approach your writing with an open heart.So let’s start with chapter one, shall we?

Lots of writers really seem to hate the “Q” word. It’s a swear for writers on par with words and phrases like “synopsis,” “not right for my list,” and “form rejection.” I’ve heard writers moan, “Why do I have to sum up my entire brilliant manuscript? If only the writer/agent would read the book, they’d know how great it is!”I’m happy that with our submission guidelines here at Upstart Crow, we’ll be able to read 20 pages of your manuscript along with the dreaded query. In fact, I’m actually going to start with the sample pages in most cases because, for me, the writing’s the thing wherein you'll catch the interest of the ... uh, agent (my apologies to Bill Shakespeare for botching that quote).But even if I didn’t start with the pages, I can say with certainty that queries DO work. Of the seven clients I represent as of the writing of this post, five were plucked straight out of the slush pile. They queried me just as many others will, with nary a credential to their name, but with a great idea for a book and writing that hooked me within the first two pages (which is all I used to read).Now, with Upstart Crow, I’ll have 20 whole pages to fall in love with your story. Of course, the query will still be important, since it’ll be a chance for me to see if the rest of the story beyond those initial pages seems to work, but it’s not everything.And, who knows, maybe one day YOU'LL be one of my next success stories!

A few weeks back, my landlady put a big box of books out in front of our brownstone, with a sign inviting passersby to take a book or two. Ours is a busy street, and within a few hours, most of her books had disappeared—no doubt to good homes and eager readers. So I refilled the box myself.Many people I know blanch at the thought of getting rid of books. "I could never part with a single one of them!" they say, but I feel a good culling every now and then focuses my bookshelves. I prize the books by my very favorite writers. But the rest are fair game when it comes time to weed the shelves.There are the books that weirdly have multiple copies: Do I really need three copies of Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping? (I kept losing copies in boxes.) No. And three copies of The Collected Stories of John Cheever? Yes—one is a first edition hardcover, another is a trade paperback that I can mark up with analysis, and the third is the rack-sized paperback that I've owned since the early eighties and which is falling apart. There are the books that drift into the house thanks to my job: Young adult novels of yesteryear—some I worked on, some I was given, some I just picked up to keep current with the field. If I'm not wholly in love with the book, it would do better in the hands of some younger reader. And there are the books I bought when I thought I was going to be someone else—fat nonfiction books that I never got around to reading, that I can't even imagine wanting to read right now. And finally, books given to me by long absent friends that I never read and never will read. All of them go into the box.The end result of the culling is that my bookshelves become a better representation of who I am and who I aim to be, with fewer shadows of past selves. And a lot of my neighbors get some truly excellent reading material for free!

This little video is hilarious and invidiously catchy. Or maybe it's only catchy if you watch it a few dozen times. Whatever the case, over these past couple of weeks, whenever I'd come across anything that sounded at all like "Potter" (such as Cary Grant's adoptive family, the Potters, in Holiday at BAM the other night), I'd find myself muttering, "Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Oooh, Harry Potter—that's me!"It's kind of sad, really.

This little video is hilarious and invidiously catchy. Or maybe it's only catchy if you watch it a few dozen times. Whatever the case, over these past couple of weeks, whenever I'd come across anything that sounded at all like "Potter" (such as Cary Grant's adoptive family, the Potters, in Holiday at BAM the other night), I'd find myself muttering, "Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Oooh, Harry Potter—that's me!"It's kind of sad, really.