I broke up with my agent yesterday. It was something I’d been mulling over for months. It just wasn’t working. It was the whole ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ scenario. There were a lot of reasons for the split but the biggest one is I wanted to be in control of my publishing schedule again. The traditional book world moves far too slow for my impatient brain to handle. Perhaps the slow turn around is on me and my work. It probably is. I am a writer who writes outside of the box and, therefore, is probably not very bankable to publishing houses. Sure, I could probably conform to what is a more ‘sellable’ writing style, but I have no desire to change my voice in order for a bigger pay day. So that left me, this square peg in a relationship made up of round holes. I just didn’t fit. So I moved on.
What does that mean for readers? Well, I do have a finished work that had been with my agent and was being around and now, well, it’s not, but I’m still mulling over what to do with that one. Stay tuned. I’m going to need a few days to get used to being at the wheel with this story. It needs to tell me what road to go down now.
I hope you’ll be patient with me as I adjust my mirrors and start my creative engine back up. (Okay, I’m done with the driving metaphors now.)