Lean On Me

“If you were to ask me if you need an agent to be a successful writer, my answer would be an emphatic, no.” – Alex Haley

“Andy, the truth is that I don’t have the energy to fight this for you. You are more than welcome to... hang on a sec...”

Her call waiting beeps as it often does and I am put on hold. I have been around my agent more than a few times on such an occasion and know that if she likes you as a client she will only put you on hold; if she doesn’t the person who just buzzed their way into the conversation will be the only excuse she needs to hang up on you.

We knew each other casually when I lived in Buffalo and heard her spoke very highly of amongst creative types. I had met some people she had represented; promoters, club owners, other writers, bands, and even the odd actor or two, but she rarely took work from them since the money just wasn’t reliable enough. Almost everyone I spoke to thought of her as a fierce and well rounded agent. Almost a wunderkind by the age of 30, she had degrees in marketing and entertainment law.

She knew my story before I finished writing it, told over a few black and tans at the Old Pink, and although it took her a while to get back to me, I knew she was my best shot of landing an agent.

“You there?”

“Yeah.”

“Now, I can’t make this decision for you, but my own selfish advice to you is to cut your losses. Your life is a mess right now and you really just need time to get your shit together. Right now, you don’t need their grief; they screwed you over and treated you like shit when they weren’t screwing you over. That’s the nature of the business. And without a lawyer and someone willing to pay for them, you won’t win.”

“Why can’t you represent me?”

“You know I am burnt out, and as much as it hurts me to say this, you lean on me too much. You know I would do anything to help you, but right now I physically can’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I can’t argue with anything she just said. I know she is burnt out. She hasn’t had a vacation or even an entire real day off in three years. I also know damn well that I tend to lean on people more than I should. On either count, I am glad to be blessed with one of the most honest agents on earth.

“If you need a ride to the doctor next Thursday, we will meet up then. I’ll take you and we’ll do lunch when you get out, and from there we will decide what to do next. The way I see it, you have two options in front of you. The first is you wait one year and eight or so months for the option to expire and you write something else in the interim that I can shop around. Your second option, since neither of us can afford a lawyer and I sure as hell ain’t doin’ it, you rewrite the book, make it just different enough from the original, make it better, sell it, and get the new publisher to pay for a lawyer to get it out quicker.”

Both options have their obvious ups and downs and I am not going to rush into a decision on this one. I will admit that I am leaning towards option A for the time being, mostly because there is no guarantee that option B will take less than a year and however many months. Plus, I do want to get my life together and put a few things behind me. Rewriting the book has become a task that cripples me every time I think about it. If I change my mind and find that I can go back and write more and improve on it, I can switch to option B at any time.

“What about my money?”

She sighs and seemed afraid that I was going to ask that question. “There isn’t much I can do about it now. I tried talking to them and they want a war. It’s cheaper for them to throw a little bit of money at their legal team since you are such a little fish with no stable legal representation yourself, and then they can keep you tied up in paperwork for as long as they want. Which means until your option is up.”

My expression turned crestfallen on my end of the line, and I wanted to say how I felt at that moment, but I am trying to curb such outburst. Plus, what she was about to say made my tongue biting all the more relevant.

“Don’t rock the boat, Andy. I know these types. If you push them around too much, they will not hesitate to make your life more hell than it already is.”

“Yeah, no... I know.”

“Well, think it over and we will discuss it.” Then she pipes in with the best news of the conversation. “I made a decision about the summer. If you still want my place, it’s yours, but there have been a few changes.”

“Sure, you name it.”

“First, moving in early is a no-go since Tim (her fiancé whom she plans on marrying during their summer sabbatical) isn’t cool with it. He also thinks that you are paying me rent and subletting, so don’t blow my cover.”

“OK, what else?”

“I’m not leaving until June 16^th. I have a lot coming up in May that I can’t cut out early on, plus I am having trouble at the moment finding a good replacement to take over for me while I am gone. Finally, I talked to the building owner... you weren’t still planning on bringing that cat were you?”

“No. Not anymore.”

“OK, then forget I brought it up. Anyway, I gotta’ run (famous name to remain nameless) is calling me back again and he won’t leave me alone. Think about what I said and above all just take care of yourself.”

I told her I would, and then went back to my normal day of housework and chores almost as if she hadn’t called at all.