A Toast

I'll get back to guest desks in a day or so--they have been lots of fun. But today, I'm going to talk about my agent.
My first deal was with an unknown (then) publisher called Red Dress Ink. Chick lit was a new phrase, a new genre, and no imprints existed for it. I had this quirky little book called Spanish Disco. I knew it was funny. But I had no idea if anyone would publish it because it didn't fit in any existing genres. He sent it to an editor at a major house, who loved it but said my drunken character would be a tough sell to her editorial committee; Cassie was too edgy, too funny, cursed too much, and mooned a reporter in a restaurant by the tenth chapter. She married her first husband on a dare. However, this lovely editor liked the book so much, she suggested my agent take it to a rival editor she was friends with. To make a LONG story short, thus began the dance of getting the deal. During it, the editor, my agent, and I were scheduled for lunch at Le Cirque--my agent's treat. And the night before (near dawn actually) I got sick and was rushed in an ambulance to the hospital, very, very, very ill.
However, in all the confusion of calling 9-1-1, my agent got a call from my friends in NYC too late to cancel, so he had to show up minus this hot new writer he wanted this editor to meet. For a two-hour lunch, they discussed my book, and she told me later he had been so knowledgable of my work, so deftly handled the discussions, and that was not her typical experience. By the next day, I had a deal to greet me from my morphine haze in the hospital. Thus, my career began.
Since then he has gotten me in US WEEKLY twice as the Hot Book Pick, has had me lunch with producers, seen my work optioned, and negotiated many deals. He has told me when something needs work--painful as that is (and he's not shy about letting me know, much as it hurts . . . we're honest with each other), and he has cheerleaded me and then some. When I've been down, he's long distance held my hand. When I've been back-stabbed by a fellow jealous writer, he's urged me to bask in my own personal happiness and just wish the b**** well. Which I do. ;-) In short, he's in many, many ways enabled me to write. I couldn't do what I do without him.
More than that . . .
He has done it in a way I RESPECT as a human being. If you step on people on your way up, be prepared to have them wave at your ass on the way down. If you gossip and backstab, prepare to let it wash over you as it comes back. And be careful who you're nasty to. I have a BEST friend, a woman I adore, who ghostwrote a book for a supermodel. The agent is a very "hot" one, and the way she spoke to my friend was expletive filled, awful, unnecessary. She loved my friend's work, this agent just has power issues. Or other issues. I hear from editor pals and people in the biz about the way certain agents and authors conduct themselves. I see how a couple of authors behave. And I am not swayed to be like that. I prefer to know that my public face, my agent, is a gentleman and will be honorable.
So there you have it. Here's to you, Mr. Poynor. Thanks for everything.