Recently I was on a panel speaking to an audience of aspiring writers, and the question came up of whether agents are still necessary or even "relevant." I suppressed a giggle. My colleagues and I listed all the ways an agent can save your bacon on a daily basis, often earning her keep many times over in the span of a single phone call - the call that gets things done, things that we as authors generally have no aptitude for and no business undertaking, much as we really oughtn't drill our own teeth.
But I got lucky. Five years ago, when I signed with Barbara Poelle, I didn't just get a firecracker in a nice pair of shoes. I got a trusted advisor, a big dreamer, a fearless truth-teller, a ballbuster, a renegade, and the perfect person to celebrate triumphs and crush defeat. In five short years the Littlefield-Poelle team has published a dozen books, with another four coming out in the next year. We've won awards and exceeded expectations and turned "no" into "hell yeah" - and we've barely begun.
Here's to the next five, B!
|in the office|
|last year at the Edgars|
|with Holly Root|
|with Jamie Freveletti on the night of her Thriller win|
|RWA National several years ago|
|with Robert Lewis|