Angels in the City

I recently attended a three-day writer’s conference, where fifty or so New York literary agents were in attendance to hear “pitches” from the aspiring authors—including me. The pitch sessions were held on day two and were set up in a large room with the agents seated at tables. Authors were allowed ninety seconds to deliver a verbal pitch (no notes!) about their book, and the agent had ninety seconds to respond. In preparation, I had researched those agents who were a suitable fit for my spiritual memoir and had listed them in order of importance.

The first day of the conference, I attended a lecture given by an astute, no-nonsense literary agent. As she delivered her list of dos and don’ts to us attendees, everyone began to squirm, knowing we were guilty of at least one of these writing sins. The woman sitting next to me even leaned over and whispered, “I’m not pitching her, she’s scary!” I wasn’t too worried about it because I knew she wasn’t on my list.

But that changed when she announced that she had inadvertently been left off the directory of agents who would hear pitches the next day. Still, I knew that the chances of her being suitable for my memoir were slim. Out of the fifty or so in attendance only six had expressed interest in memoirs, and none had listed desiring spiritual, let alone New Age titles.

Nevertheless, that evening back at the hotel I looked her up. Unbelievably, she not only was looking for memoirs, but specifically for New Age material. Seriously Universe! Do I really have to pitch her?

The next morning I awoke early, reviewed my notes, delivered my pitch to myself several times in the mirror and set out for the fifteen-minute walk to the conference. Since I’d walked there twice before, I knew the route. It was easy: a straight shot about six blocks down the street from my hotel. Just one problem. It has to be the correct street. After several minutes of walking I realized I was going the wrong direction and turned around, puzzled as to why I hadn’t noticed earlier. By the time I got to the convention, I was twenty minutes late and the halls were empty as the lectures were underway, so I decided to get a cup of coffee at the reception table. I began pouring my coffee, just as a woman walked up to the opposite side of the table. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the intimidating New Age agent! Instantly, I knew this was no accident. It was a message from the Universe that I must pitch to her. I also knew my guides had set up this chance encounter for a reason and I had to say something.

“I really enjoyed your lecture yesterday.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been working up the courage to pitch you later today.”

“Don’t be nervous about it. We’re just going to have a conversation.”

She didn’t smile, or appear to be the least bit interested in me and she was definitely unaware of her role in my guides’ divine plan. But that didn’t matter, because I knew our exchange was meant to let me know that she was the one. And that yes, I had to pitch her no matter how intimidating she was.

Later I stood with hundreds of other nervous, hopeful authors, waiting for the door to the room of agents (and our dreams) to open. The organizer’s instructions were for us authors to line up in front of our prospective agent’s table and wait for our turn to pitch. Good, I thought, I can watch a few go before me to get a feel for what to expect. But when I approached my agent’s table, there was no line and thus no putting off the inevitable. I waited for her to motion me towards her, then sat down and began, “I have written a memoir…”

“Well you’ve done your research,” she said after I finished. “I used to be an acquisitions editor for a New Age publisher.”

I hadn’t—but I didn’t tell her that. Instead I just smiled and listened as she gave me her card and asked me to send her my book proposal. Success! My pitch was intriguing enough to prompt a request for more material from her and from the agent (far less intimidating) I had originally chosen as my first choice from my earlier research. The first step in acquiring an agent was worth all the anxiety.

I like to make the most out of long flights with interesting reading material. Luckily, I thought to peruse the conference bookstore and found the perfect read: a book on writing penned by the New Age agent I’d pitched. It was full of great advice and practical tips for improving your writing and landing publishing deals. But it also contained a bit about her history, including that for fifteen years she lived in California and worked as an acquiring agent for a prominent new thought and self-help publisher. Hmmm, I wondered. Could this possibly be the West Coast, New Age publisher that topped my list of dream publishing houses for my book?

Once home, a quick google search revealed that my suspicions were correct. A shiver ran up my spine, confirming that not only had I been guided to the best agent for my memoir at the writing conference, but quite possibly in the entire country.

There’s one more piece of this story that is important to share. Last spring I was debating between attending the NYC writer’s conference and one being held by my dream West Coast, New Age publisher, so I asked a trusted friend (who happens to be a phenomenal spiritual healer) for advice. At the time, I was leaning towards the New Age publisher's conference, but I wanted confirmation.

“I’ll get back to you,” she said.

She did—but not with the answer I’d hoped for.

"You should go to the New York conference."

I was a little perplexed by this guidance. In my mind, the NYC conference was more expensive, farther away, on an inconvenient weekend for me and according to the list of agents, nobody representing my dream publisher was attending. But, I’d asked for her guidance and once she gave it, I knew intuitively I had to trust it, even though logically it didn’t make sense. Of course now I know, my guides had it all figured out for me.

Intuition trumps logic every time.

© Maria Hart 2016

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