By Paul Eckert
What goes on in the mind of a mega literary agent? Jo Unwin didn’t mince her words.
The splendour of the new Creative Writing Centre was the perfect stage for someone with such a spectacular client list: Jo Unwin. She is adept at pitching pages. Representing accoladed writers from Charlie Brooker to Caleb Femi to Nina Stibbe. She boasts awards and oozes industry savvy and an unparalleled knack for finding who is up and coming. Literary fiction, commercial women’s fiction, comic writing and narrative non-fiction are some of her genre specialties. If you’re a talented writer and Unwin doesn’t work with you, she sips lattes with the agent who does.
During her interview with Dr Helen Pleasance, Jo Unwin described how she wasn’t always a bigwig agent. In fact, she didn’t start until she was in her 40’s. She was just “a human being who liked reading.” But the owner of the bookshop where she worked suggested she’d make a great literary agent.
“I took to it like a duck to water,” explained Unwin, “I had been a bad actress, writer and voiceover, but I always liked books. And I had a nose for good writing.”
It all started with “the slush pile”. That’s the term for all the submitted scripts that sit in the corner of an agent’s office and may never be reviewed. Unwin began going through them. Soon she found one she liked. It became a success. Then she found another one she liked, and guess what? Another winner. The rest is bestseller history.
But how could a writer escape the slush pile and gain the support of Unwin?
Unwin advised the aspiring author audience to follow their instincts, draft, craft and redraft (times loads) and understand what you’ve written (Who is it for? Where would it sit on the shelf?).
If you believe in your book, and Unwin believes in your book, she will sell it to specific publishers. She knows the taste of each, and she knows how to network. Her biggest gift and where her experience lies is how to spot talent. Your manuscript will only have one window to get her attention and escape the slush.
Unwin gave a candid glimpse into this unglamourous process. The family tea goes into the oven. Let’s say lasagne. As it bakes, she sits on her bed with a pile of scripts. She reads a bit. If the first page doesn’t move her, she moves on. If it’s somehow intriguing, she reads more. If it’s amazing, the kids are eating lasagne alone.
So how does one pitch to an agent like Unwin?
“Don’t oversell yourselves. Like saying you’ll outsell J.K. Rowling. At the same time, don’t be underconfident. You wouldn’t hire a plumber who mumbled, ‘I don’t know if I can do the plumbing’” Again, Unwin advised that it helps to love what you’ve written and be sure of what it is. You need a consistent voice. (Not one book about the Trojan War and another about a tiger in a paddling pool). Who would you like to be compared to? Pick twenty books by writers you like. Look at acknowledgements in the back of the book. Who represents those writers? That’s who could possibly represent you. When it’s ready (really ready) send your manuscript to them. Or try the agent’s assistant.
Unwin also recommended, The Writer and Artist’s Yearbook as a Bible that no aspiring writer should be without.
Ultimately a writer wants to be with an agent like Unwin. Because she wants to work with and for her writers. She wants them to like her team and for the team to be like a family. A family that enjoys creating and selling tons and tons of books together—even if they don’t share lasagne.