The Yang Slinger: Vol. LII

If you plan on writing books, you need a literary agent. Alas, that's a bit easier said than done. Dammit.

When one enters a book store, they will find books.

Lots.

And lots.

And lots.

And lots.

Of books.

It’s actually a profound reminder that what we do—write—isn’t all that unique or special. Look to the left: Books. Look to the right: More books. There are books that are old and books that are new. Books that smell of ink and books that smell of paper. Books you’ve heard of and books you haven’t.

Sooooo many books.

But lean in closer.

Closer.

Even closer.

If you’re an aspiring author, and you long to be published, those stacks and stacks and rows and rows of books aren’t merely stacks and stacks and rows and rows of books.

They’re (shhh) the keys to your future.

Before I get into it, a quick thought from a guy who’s been through a few battles: If you are an aspiring author, and your dream is to have a book published by a major house (HarperCollins, Random House, etc.), you need a literary agent and you’ll wind up paying that person 15 percent of everything you make on your project.

It’s sorta annoying, but also true. To survive and thrive in the world of books, a literary agent is mandatory. The reasons are myriad:

• The system of agent-reaches-out-to-publishing house is as ingrained as eggs and waffles for breakfast.

• Agents have a legitimate understanding of what publishers are looking for.

• Agents have connections you don’t.

• Agents will (if they’re worth their pepper) fight for you, argue for you, negotiate for you.

• Agents will be the first line of manuscript defense and—ideally—make certain you’re not handing in dreck.

I’ve been with my agent, the great David Black, for nearly two decades, and the dude is absolute gold. Back in 2002, I was represented by a different agent, Susan Reed, when I signed to pen my first book, “The Bad Guys Won!” Susan did me well—”Bad Guys” was her idea, she hooked me up with HarperCollins, they paid me a $150,000 advance and it made the New York Times’ best-seller’s list. I had no major complaints. But when Susan left the business to take over a golf magazine, one of my Sports Illustrated colleagues recommended David. “The guy,” he told me, “is a fucking pitbull.”

And, indeed, he is. When I picture David, I often think of Ari Gold from “Entourage.” He’s hard-charging and straight-talking and dogged and intense and—from time to time—a publishing house’s Excedrin inducer. He makes demands that can (in the best possible way) land like a hammer to the skull: My author needs more support. My author needs a better PR plan. My author …

He also has an enormous well of compassion and kinship. For example, in the days after my most recent book, “The Last Folk Hero: The Life and Myth of Bo Jackson,” hit the list, David sent me this note …

It’s framed in my office.

The problem, however, is that there are only so many David Blacks to go around. Or, put differently, the nation is populated by a handful of tippy top-level agents representing the biggest clients (to be clear, I am not counting myself among “the biggest clients.” But scroll David’s client list, and you’ll see a slew of neon authors), and after that it’s a little bit of a crapshoot.

Which leads back to the bookstore.

I asked some literary agents for their suggestions on how writers can find proper representation, and the offerings were mostly terrific. Kim Lionetti, my dear friend and a superstar agent at BookEnds, is a proponent of Publishers Marketplace (“With a subscription you can search recent deals for books that might be similar to yours.  Without the subscription you can still search agent profiles, which usually have deal information and sign up for Publishers Lunch emails with news about the industry as well as Deal Lunch emails which are distributed weekly.”), manuscriptwishlist.com (“It has profiles from a lot of different agents, including the books they’re looking for and represent.”) and mswishlist.com (“It culls tweets from agents that tagged #MSWL with information on the types of projects they’re currently searching for.  Those preferences can change over time, so it’s important to look at info that’s up-to-date”). Lynnette Novak of the Seymour Agency is a believer in specifics—”Only query agents who rep what you write. Know the expected word count for your genre. Too high or too low could result in a pass.” Mark Gottlieb of Trident Media Group said the best way find find a literary agent is, “to look at the sales ranking of the literary agency.” But then he went on a painful self-indulgent tangent (“Trident Media Group is book publishing’s leading literary agency, both in terms of number of deals and amount of money for deals. Trident Media Group has ranked that way consecutively every year year since the year 2000 when the publishing industry began recording this type of information. If you search for my name, Mark Gottlieb then it will become readily apparent that I lead Trident Media Group in overall number of deals in most any given year …”) that made me think, “Eh, that’s a no for me, bubs.”

But wait—back to the book shop.

About five years ago, my wife—the excellent Catherine Pearlman—wanted to write a book. She was a social worker who’d penned a weekly parenting advice column, and now she had an idea for a project that would ultimately be known as, “Ignore It!: How Selectively Looking the Other Way Can Decrease Behavioral Problems and Increase Parenting Satisfaction.”

Catherine knew no one in the parenting-genre book world. So one day she went to the local Barnes & Noble and did something ridiculously savvy and wise. With pad and pen in hand, she walked toward the parenting/education section and—one by one—picked up books that were in her subject wheelhouse, turned to the ACKNOWLEDGMENTS section and jotted down the names of agents being thanked by the authors.

I want to repeat that, because it’s genius: She found ideal books, jumped to the ACKNOWLEDGMENTS and wrote down the name of agents.

And in case you’re wondering—yes, nearly all authors thank their agents in the ACKNOWLEDGMENTS¹. To prove the point, I yanked four random books from our shelves tonight …

Here’s Angie Thomas thanking Brooks Sherman in “The Hate You Give” …

Here’s Mirin Fader thanking Anthony Mattero in “Giannis” …

Here’s Candice Millard thanking Suzanne Gluck in “Destiny of the Republic” …

Here’s Michael MacCambridge thanking Sloan Harris in “The Franchise” …

And—best of all—here’s Catherine thanking Coleen O’Shea (the agent she found via scanning books) in “Ignore It!” …

It works. It really, truly works. And of all the different suggestions I solicited for this post on how to land a literary agent, it’s—hands down—the best of the bunch.

And yet …

Just because you find some agents in the rear of books doesn’t mean you’re set to go. An agent is like your wing man—Goose to Maverick; Murray to Jokić; Pence to Tru—eh, never mind. You have to trust the person. You have to connect with the person. There has to be a mutual interest. A core support. “You want to find someone who believes in the work you do, and truly understands the work that you do,” says Fader. “For me, it was also just about finding someone who would believe in my potential.”

Says Christopher Price of his agent, Alec Shane: “He’s not afraid to tell me if a book will sell or won’t sell. As authors we can talk all we want about the story and the writing and all that, but at the end of the day, it’s a business. If the book won’t sell, no one gets paid. A good agent will lay down in traffic for you and your work, but they also won’t bullshit you.”

Years ago I was wooed by an agent who represented a bunch of my colleagues at Sports Illustrated. He was a pleasant enough fella, but I knew—with 100-percent certainty—he had hit on a married co-worker of mine. I wanted no part of it. Another potential agent took me out to the Soho House, pulled out his phone and started scrolling through naked and near-naked photos of, “all the chicks I’m fucking.”

Also a no.

You don’t need to be best pals with your agent, but you should feel the person and their judgement. “You need a friend with the experience and feedback you respect and value,” said Erik Sherman, longtime author (and Robert Wilson client). You also should be wary of promises—any promises. I’ve heard horror stories of far too many agents who guarantee this and guarantee that, only to deliver nothing. Black, for example, has not only never made me a promise, he’s forced me to work my ass off to get deals. Until recently, most of my proposals (you generally need a proposal that your agent will submit to potential publishers) were 25-to-50 pages, and only went out after Black red penned the fuck out of them. They’re not fun to write, they take forever, they feel like drudgery. And (cough) they matter. A lot.

A few years ago Jane Friedman, co-founder and editor of The Hot Sheet, a paid newsletter for authors, wrote this post about agent seeking. I found this section, in particular, on point …

Before I wrap this, some final pieces of wisdom:

• There are times in life when it’s OK to roll with the new. A new pizza joint opens, try a slice. A new dog groomer starts up, take Fluffy for a trim. But, personally, I would avoid rookie literary agents. Your agent has to be connected. They need to be able to call the publishing houses and be patched through. They need to be able to reach out to the decision makers and have their voices heard.

• Some agents only take 10 percent, as opposed to the going rate of 15. They also usually suck. It’s like buying your sneakers at Aldi² instead of the Nike Store. They might last. They’ll more likely fray.

• There’s nothing wrong with cold sending your manuscript to a bunch of literary agencies. Especially now, where e-mailing shit is (obviously) costless. But just realize, 99.9 percent of time if anyone reads your work, it’ll be Jed, the 21-year-old intern who’s half paying attention, half watching some shitty IG video of a squirrel fighting Jake Paul. And he’ll read the first three pages. Four if he’s on the toilet.

• The more commercially viable, the better your odds. I’m not saying you shouldn’t write that memoir about your grandma’s battle with Aarskog Syndrome. I’m really not. But approaching agents for the first time with “Grammie Cheryl and the Aarskog Gang” might be tougher than, say, a biography of Billy Joel.

• Walking in with a large social media following can’t hurt. An agent’s job is to sell you. Not just the book—but you. What does the author have to offer? Why will their work fly off shelves? On and on. Bringing forth, say, 200,000 IG eyes carries a lot of weight. So don’t overlook that stuff

• If you have a book in you, write it. Agent. No agent. Write it. Worst-case scenario, you self publish. But if you need to get the words out there, go for it.

I did.

And now I’m writing this substack in my pajamas, drinking a cup of hot chocolate and screaming as my fucking dog barks at the phantom mailman.

Living the dream.

The Quaz Five with … Tim Williams

Tim Williams is one of America’s great illustrators, and you can see his work in a gazillion different books and magazines, as well as at his website. You can follow him on Twitter here.

1. OK, Tim—I don't know a ton of professional illustrators, but it sounds: A. Insanely fun to do; B. Insanely challenging to maintain (in these modern times where media is so devalued). So, I ask, how hard is it to maintain in these modern times where media is so devalued?: I agree that media is certainly devalued today. With the advent of AI and immediate access to and rapid sharing of all imagery, I suppose it was inevitable. For me though, I just treat all of that as white noise. It takes equal measures of both inspiration and dedication to be a solid illustrator. If you get too caught up in distracting developments that may be peripherally a part of your profession, it can weaken your effectiveness.

2. Are people like you naturals (aka: born to do this)? What I mean is, can someone be born with no artistic talent and make themselves an illustrator? Can you bust ass and learn and be great? Or is it a gift?: I'm uniquely qualified to answer this question. Before my freelance career got going, I was an instructor at the Art Institute of Atlanta. An initial spark of talent has to be there in my opinion. I've seen a lot of people become a great deal more adept at producing good work once they put in the time and also became open to instruction. Personally, I just have always loved to draw. My parents started getting me private art lessons when I was a real young kid ... 7 years old.

3. You did an awesome Johnny Manziel illustration for Lindy's 2016 NFL Preview magazine. I'm looking at it—and I wonder, soup to nuts, what went into it? Like, do you think a lot before pen touches paper? Do you just try a bunch of things? How does it work?: That Johnny Manziel illustration is a great (and typical) example of the result of my process. I get the text from either the art director or the writer. (In this case, since it was for a magazine, the text came from a writer.) Then I usually go for a long run. I start to think about potential ideas while I'm running. When I have an idea, I start to gather reference material I will need. If it's a caricature-type illustration like Manziel's, I find photos of him that will give me a good jumping off point from the art I have in my head. Then, even though the final output of all of my work is digital, it still starts the old fashioned way: pencil sketches on paper. 95% of the time, I get really close to how the finished art is going to look with my pencil illustration(s). Then I scan it into my iMac and "paint" my scanned drawing in Photoshop.

4. What's the difference between an elite illustrator and a mediocre one?: An elite illustrator connects with his/her audience. No matter what you're trying to say cremation you're trying to evoke, you have to connect with the person/people who are viewing your work. It isn't as much about technical ability as some might think.

5. In 2018 you wrote a blog post about how much you love illustrating for magazines, and you said, "In the past year I have seen a resurgence in my magazine illustration assignments." That was five years ago. Is there still magazine work? And why the love?: There isn't as much magazine work now as there was when I wrote that blog post in 2018. Many of the magazines I was doing consistent work went belly up, for a myriad of different reasons. I was already illustrating quite a few children's books at that time, so when the magazine work dried up, I just threw myself even more into illustrating the books for kids. I do think there is another mini-resurgence happening for magazines again, so I'd love to reintroduce myself to that market. I love magazine work because I love writers. I feel honored when I get called upon to produce imagery to compliment a writer's words. I also love magazine work because those projects tend to be very fast turnarounds. Children's books take months. I love the speed of magazine work.

Bonus (rank in order—favorite to least): Dale Murphy, tacos, New Kids on the Block, Sammy Sosa, "Titanic," Matchbox cars, egging an asshole's house, Nikki Haley, the letter V, scissors: Okay, let's do this: 1. Dale Murphy 2. Egging an asshole's house 3. Matchbox cars 4. Scissors 5. The letter V 6. New Kids the Block 7. Sammy Sosa 8. Titanic 9. Getting a prostate exam from Edward Scissorhands (Okay, I cheated and added that one myself. 10. Nikki Haley.

Ask Jeff Pearlman a fucking question(s)

It finally hit me that the whole Jim Murray Q&A thing wasn’t particularly funny. So I’ve scrapped it with a new feature—namely, ask me any journalism question you like, and I’ll try and answer honestly and with the heart-of-a-champion power one can expect from a mediocre substack.

Hit me up in my Twitter DMs, or via e-mail at pearlmanj22@gmail.com or just use the comments section here …

Questions of the Week …

Via Joel S: Why were you so cocky as a young journalist?

I was cocky as a young journalist because I had no life. That’s not an exaggeration. When I arrived at the Tennessean to start my career in the summer of 1994, I thought the only thing that mattered in life was writing. Or, to be specific, my writing. I lived by myself in a small apartment. I kept my co-workers at a distance. I belittled editors and failed to take advice from anyone. The self-centeredness was off the charts, and it resulted in very few people wanting to deal with me. It also resulted in multiple demotions and chew-outs, and nearly the loss of my job.

I look back and alternate between scratching my head and hanging it in shame.

Via Myra K: What’s your all-time favorite sports book?

I consider “A False Spring” by Pat Jordan to be a piece of art, not merely a sports book. It concerns his day as a minor league ballplayer in the Milwaukee Braves system, and it’s equal parts charming, hilarious, heartbreaking, chilling and eye-opening. I had Pat on my podcast several years ago, and was delighted to learn he still wrote on a typewriter. The guy’s an under-appreciated guru.

Via Elk Hunt66: Is there one writer who has had the greatest impact on you?

It’s funny. I’ve been blessed to know/work alongside some of the truly great journalists of this generation—folks like Steve Rushin and Gary Smith and Claire Smith and Jon Wertheim. But the scribe who changed my life was a classmate at the University of Delaware named Greg Orlando. Greg was a couple of years ahead of me, and he didn’t simply master the English language—he turned words into music, and heard the beats and rhythms of paragraphs, of transitions, of syllables. It was magical shit, and I stole a lot of his little tricks and tried to make them my own. Greg’s on Twitter here.

This, via 1994, remains one of my all-time favorite ledes …

A random old article worth revisiting …

One of the fun things a guy can do with newspapers.com is seek out articles via sentences. So, just for kicks, I looked up “attacked by a giant alligator.” I wound up with this piece, which appeared on the front page of the July 25, 1924 McAlester News-Capital in McAlister, Oklahoma. I’m assuming Thomas Briggs died long ago, as—I believe—did the alligator.

Keep it hoppin’ in heaven, bros. Rest in paradise …

This week’s college writer you should follow on Twitter …

Victoria Hernandez, editor in chief of Hill Magazine, the University of Arkansas’ award-winning, student-produced magazine.

So for the first time in this substack’s long and storied history, I’m going back to back student journalists from the same school. Last week it was Arkansas’ Dylan Stewart, and now I’m bringing forth Hernandez, a junior from Flower Mound, Texas and someone whose Twitter feed and work oozes a love of journalism.

If you have a chance, check out The Hill—a beautiful, deliciously old-school approach to writing and layout and storytelling. And this piece, penned by Hill, is just money.

One can follow Victoria on Twitter here.

Bravo, kid.

Journalism musings for the week …

Musing 1: So Ethan Strauss recently wrote a piece for The Free Press on Hanna and Haley Cavinder, the former University of Miami basketball players who earned shitloads of NIL money because, well, they’re physically attractive. And when the story, headlined, THE NCAA HAS A ‘HOT GIRL’ PROBLEM, ran, well, the sisters were pissed. The put out an angry Tweet, arguing that Strauss had misled them. And while I wasn’t present for the dialogue between scribe and subjects, I have grown a bit weary of not being allowed to just say what the fuck is going on. Namely, NIL dough isn’t necessarily going to the neediest or the most-skilled, but the best looking. And I’m not arguing whether that’s bad or good. But, I mean, the Cavinders were mediocre Division I players making shitloads of coin because they look nice and pose suggestively. It’s not a mystery.

Musing 2: Really swell writing from the Washington Post’s Bethonie Butler in a profile of actress Jessica Biel, headlined HOLLYWOOD UNDERESTIMATED JESSICA BIEL. SO SHE BET ON HERSELF—AND WON. I love when scribes are able to breathe through the plastic wrap and learn who celebrities truly are.

Musing 3: Donald Trump is a conman. Everything is a line, a promise, an exaggeration. So when, after being indicted earlier this week, he appeared at a Miami eatery and said, “Food for everyone!”—well, there was no way he was buying food for everyone. Or, it turns out, anyone—as Laine Doss reported in this piece for the Miami New Times.

Musing 4: At the risk of self-indulgence, earlier this week HBO launched the trailer for the upcoming season (starts in August) of “Winning Time,” based on a book written by a dude with a meh substack. To be blunt: Having an HBO show kicks ass, pays well and gets a playa laid without—eh, um. It’s fantastic. Also, pay special attention to Sean Patrick Small, who stars as Larry Bird. He’s the breakout superstud of the new season.

Musing 5: So obviously CNN has been (cough) having its troubles lately, but bravo to Jake Tapper for demanding network producers stop airing Donald Trump after his arraignment. Enough is enough with the bullshit.

Musing 6: The Athletic recently announced a bunch of layoffs, and that blows. But you can be sure one dude who’s keeping his gig is Sam Vecenie, the NBA scribe whose Top 100 NBA Draft prospects for 2023 is absolutely bonkers, and speaks to the powers of doggedness and hard work. Seriously, this thing is art.

Musing 7: Sarah Palin explaining (sans irony) the meaning of a “cult” is worth the price of admission.

Musing 8: Craig Carton announced on Thursday that he’s leaving WFAN after a lengthy run. And while I’m neither fan nor foe of Carton, I do believe it symbolizes the increasingly limited scope of sports talk radio. Or, put slightly differently, who’s listening to radio in 2023? No one drives to work, there are 8,000 online platforms … it just feels dead. So Carton bolting to focus on TV makes sense.

Musing 9: Can someone please explain to me why Harrison Wind, a Denver-based reporter with DNVR Sports, was smoking a cigar in the Nuggets’ locker room after the fifth game of the NBA Finals? Also, the Tweet—”We don’t skip steps”? Um, who the fuck is we?

Musing 10: A really beautiful sliver of writing here from Jill Geren via her substack, Be Like Jill Blog. In particular, this did it for me: “No matter how crowded my happy place gets with people getting in their cardio or taking leisurely strolls with their dogs, to kids on the playground or young athletes living out their childhood dreams, (or in some cases, their parent's dreams) I am always in my own world when I am there. Whether it's a fictional story or self-reflection, I truly cherish the freedom to let my mind go wild with thought. Things have now come full circle. When I see the kids in their various athletic uniforms or being pushed on the tire swing I am very much aware, that in what seems like the blink of an eye, my kids and I are all grown up now.”

Musing 11: The new Two Writers Slinging Yang stars Michael Bamberger, my former Sports Illustrated colleague and one of America’s great golf writers.

Quote of the week …

1. ADMITTEDLY, I’M NOT SURE WHY I KEEP CAPITALIZING THIS. BUT IT FEELS GREAT!

2. That said, my mom swears by her $13 Aldi sneakers.