Writing Life

A Big Surprise

by Terrell Harris Dougan

If you like Cinderella stories, gather 'round. I've been a sort-of-maybe writer all my life, including a humor column that ran for 13 years in our local paper, and two self-published books. I had just finished a new book, a memoir about caring for my mentally disabled sister, when I opened my mail to find the ASJA brochure announcing their April conference. I had never heard of them. I went to throw it in with the rest of the junk mail that crams my mail box daily, but a word caught my eye: agents. Then another word: editors. I made a cup of tea and sat down with the entire conference schedule.

Their workshops and panel discussions addressed every question I had been mulling over for years: How to Find an Agent, Writing the Perfect Proposal, Breaking into National Magazines, Promoting Your Book, The Internet: Your Newest Publicity Tool, and on and on. Plus, the opportunity to send your work in ahead of time and have it read and critiqued led me right to my checkbook.

Since the conference fee was less for members, I set about joining the group. Then the horrible truth set in: I was not eligible to join. They wanted clips of articles I had placed in national magazines, or proof of books published recently, or a copy of the contract for your latest book. I was not in that league.

I gave up trying to be a member and paid my $285, which sounded fair, considering all the writers, editors and agents I would be meeting there.

I convinced my friend Bette, a children's book writer, to go with me. We arrived at the Hyatt, our work in hand, hoping to be noticed, hoping to be helped, hoping to find the registration desk and our packets. We had even signed up for one-on-one counseling with professionals in the field of our interests. I accidentally stood my counselor up. Another horrid failure.

At the Saturday luncheon, Jeannette Walls, author of The Glass Castle, was beautiful, funny, articulate and encouraging. After hearing her story, I thought: Sweetheart, you have arrived in the Big League. These are real players with skills you only dreamed of having. Maybe you and your work belong only in your home town. (Years ago, when I tried to syndicate my humor column, I was told over and over, Honey, you are funny. But you are a dime a dozen. There is one of you in every town in America. By the way, Erma Bombeck rules. Sorry.)

The next hour was "Writing the Blockbuster Proposal." I had never written a book proposal. Apparently that is what one does when wanting to attract an agent or publisher. I thought you just wrote the book, which I had done. But I had dutifully researched how to write a proposal, and had done my very best to cobble one together, and sent it in ahead of time. At the workshop, I found myself with eight other authors, assigned to a pretty young agent named Laura Yorke with the Carol Mann Agency. We were going to spend the hour analyzing our proposals.

My heart started to pound. She was holding up my proposal. Maybe I had succeeded! "This," she said, "is a proposal I would never, never use, and I'm going to tell you why." As my shoulders sagged and hands sweated, Laura went on to show what agents look for in a good proposal, and I had done almost everything wrong. At least wrong in the kind of work she would want to represent.

Then I heard the magic word that changed my life. "However."

I stopped wincing and sat up straight. "The writing in the first paragraph caught my eye, and I at once saw I had a writer who knows how to write." She looked around the circle. "Where is Terrell?" she asked. I held up my hand, heart pounding.

"I would like to see two more chapters, please. E-mail these to me as soon as you can."

The moment I got home, I did exactly that. She e-mailed back: "Now two more chapters, please." I sent two more. Two months went by and I decided that once again I was just a local yokel, destined to stay in the bush leagues. Then one morning I answered the phone and it was Laura, saying, "I love your work. I want to be your agent." I thought I would pass out from sheer joy.

Within two months Laura helped me cobble a proposal that worked, and sent it out. The next thing I knew I had acquired an editor, Leslie Wells, with Hyperion Books, and my book, tentatively called That Went Well: Adventures in Caring for My Sister, is on its way to publication in January of 2009. I received a very nice advance and a fine contract. Without ASJA, I would still be day-dreaming. Bette, my friend with the children's book, pointed out that this workshop really works if you are writing adult nonfiction. She is right. But if that description fits your work, this conference is a gift. Go for it.

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Terrell Harris Dougan has worked as a newspaper columnist, guidebook author, fitness instructor, motivational speaker, tour guide, night club singer, actress in hundreds of commercials and voiceovers, an assistant to Governor Scott Matheson of Utah, and a co-founder, of what is now the Sundance Film Festival.