PRETEND: “We want diverse stories that push boundaries!”
ACTUAL: “Just make sure your ‘diversity’ doesn’t make our white, straight readers uncomfortable. Gay but not too gay. Brown, but relatable. If your trauma can’t be solved by brunch, it’s a pass.”
PRETEND: “Literature should make you uncomfortable.”
ACTUAL: “But not in a way that makes me, a straight white agent, reflect on my privilege. I meant uncomfortable like, ‘Oh no, she wore mismatched socks to the book club!’”
PRETEND: “We’re hungry for authentic queer voices!”
ACTUAL: “But can you make it, you know, more like a straight person’s coming-of-age? We want RuPaul energy, but in a Love, Simon package—nothing that’ll make Becky from Vermont question her marriage.”
PRETEND: “Please, no more trauma porn.”
ACTUAL: “Unless it’s white suburban trauma—then we’ll call it ‘generational saga’ and give it a pastel cover.”
PRETEND: “Be bold, be daring, break the rules.”
ACTUAL: “But please adhere to this 8-point font, one-inch margin, 300-word synopsis, and don’t you dare confuse me with experimental structure.”
PRETEND: “We want queer joy! Write freely!”
ACTUAL: “But make sure there’s a straight best friend to guide the reader through the scary parts. If anyone has sex, fade to black, please.”
PRETEND: “Send polished, spell-checked work only.”
ACTUAL: “The last three books I sold read like Tumblr drafts. If you’re white, straight, and went to Iowa, I’ll proofread it myself.”
PRETEND: “Follow all the tips I give on social media.”
ACTUAL: “The real tip is: know someone at my brunch group. Otherwise, your query is just content for my next post about ‘how not to open a letter.’”
PRETEND: “Give me something I haven’t seen before!”
ACTUAL: “But it needs to fit on the shelf next to three identical books already optioned for television. Risky but safe, edgy but soothing, queer but market-tested.”
PRETEND: “I have time for every query.”
ACTUAL: “I skim for comps, then forward your trauma to an intern so I can answer DMs about my cat.”
PRETEND: “We celebrate bold, unapologetic queer stories!”
ACTUAL: “As long as the gays are funny sidekicks or tragic martyrs. Don’t make the straight readers squirm. Happy endings optional. Sanitized for cis consumption.”
PRETEND: “We’re craving narratives about race, identity, and intersectionality.”
ACTUAL: “But can you whitewash it for the book club crowd? If your Black protagonist scares a Target shopper, cut it. Bonus points if you mention Paris or Italy.”
PRETEND: “We’re here to shake up the industry!”
ACTUAL: “But only after my Pilates class with other straight white agents. Disruption is fine as long as my latte and legacy are safe.”
PRETEND: “We want something that’s never been done.”
ACTUAL: “Can you write Normal People again, but with a bisexual love interest who never says ‘bisexual?’”
PRETEND: “We believe in platforming marginalized writers.”
ACTUAL: “But if you don’t already have a blue check, 10K followers, and a headshot that fits the aesthetic, keep screaming into the void.”
PRETEND: “I want a book that keeps me up all night.”
ACTUAL: “Unless it’s about your gay sex life, in which case, I’ll pretend to lose your email.”
PRETEND: “Trust the process—agents know best!”
ACTUAL: “You’re here for tips, but I optioned a TikTok poet and a nepotism case this year, so do as I say, not as I greenlight.”
PRETEND: “We want to challenge the canon.”
ACTUAL: “But only if Daddy Roth and Aunt Didion are still on the invite list. Canon, but make it cottagecore.”
PRETEND: “I want books that feel urgent.”
ACTUAL: “Urgent as in: white lady has an affair and buys a new plant, then writes a think piece about it. Anything else is ‘a tough sell.’”
PRETEND: “We value stories that challenge power structures.”
ACTUAL: “But not this power structure. Don’t challenge me. If it makes me feel like maybe I’m part of the problem, I’ll just not respond.”
