Answering the call

Last week I got a call from an unknown number, but my scam alert symbol didn’t show up, so I answered it. It was a literary agent calling from a big, and well-known, media company in New York. She said my book had been approved for their company to pitch to film and TV companies to make it into a movie. 

I’d received calls like this before, so I immediately interrupted her and asked her how much she wanted, and what was in it for her. She assured me there was no cost to me and if the book was optioned then her company would get 15% of whatever the deal ended up being.

I remained cynical and informed her that I get five or six calls like hers every week and asked her again what the catch was. ( I actually compiled a spread sheet with all the people contacting me, wanting me to sign up with them and pay them for their services to get interviewed on TV, to get G&G to the top of the best seller list, to get a thousand more reviews, to not “let all my hard work sink to the bottom of the sea.”)

She thanked me for being honest with her and assured me they were a big literary agency and would never ask me for money.

The call continued and we eventually agreed she would email me her information. I would look it over and get back to her.

Later, I exchanged thank you emails with the agent and then forwarded her information to my writing coaches and my publicist. I wanted their expert opinions if this was a legitimate offer or not. 

I noticed how energized I felt, getting a call like this. What if it was legit? Wouldn’t it be great, to get Grit & Grace before a bigger audience? Truth be told, at seven months out from launch, it was a bit like postpartum, slightly depressing as the book isn’t as new and shiny as it was. The constant media posts, web pages and newsletters, all getting a tiny bit old. This call was a real pick-me-up.

By the end of the weekend, we all agreed it looked not only very legitimate but an amazing stroke of luck that the agency had happened upon my book and greenlit it for pitching to the media.

First thing Monday morning I called the agent in New York at the phone number from her website and left a message and my phone number. Then I went for a swim. I was very excited inside. Wow, just think if it got made into a movie. I could picture the Kauai scenes, the sailing scenes. I wondered who the actors would be. Who are the younger actors these days, I wondered.

I’d just gotten into the shower when my phone rang from inside my swim bag in the locker room. I knew it was NY. Leave it? No, get out of the shower and answer it. 

Stark naked and soaking wet, I stood outside the shower and answered the phone. The screen read: the media company’s name in New York.

“This is Deborah,” I said, confidently, and tingling everywhere with excitement. I was talking to my future agent, the one who would make all my dreams come true. She’d called me back. OMGOSH! I’m on the next leg of this publishing journey. It’s happening!

“Hello Deborah?” she said.

“Is this Barbara?” I asked, her voice sounded clearer and stronger than the voice of last week.

“Yes, but I didn’t call you,” she said

I took a deep breath, I must have the wrong Barbara, “Is this Barbara, Barbara Smith?” I asked, clarifying.

“Yes, but I have never spoken with you before,” she repeated. “I’ve been hearing about scams with different publishers, but I’ve never had one before.” She sounded genuine.

“Really, we didn’t speak last week? Omgosh, it was so real, complete with your photo and website information with your company. And she offered to be my agent.” I gushed. The realization that it was indeed a scam sinking in, the excitement and dreams about what this call could be a start of, all dashed in a moment.

“Good for you for calling this morning and checking it out, well done! We only pitch our own books to film production companies. And there is a query process to go through to get an agent.”

“And thank you for calling me back and letting me know. And you are a literary agent, correct?”

“I am,” she said.

“Will you be my agent?” I asked, shamelessly.

“You can go through the process explained on our website,” she was friendly but professional.

“Will you remember me if I do?” I asked, seriously playful now, as I was cognizant of the privilege of speaking to an actual literary agent, and she had called me back.

She said she would. We thanked each other again and hung up.

And that was the end of my guarded excitement about getting G&G made into a movie. But I learned from this experience; I’d been excited and rejuvenated about the possibility. Despite my denial about it on the surface, I really would like to pursue the book to film option. 

And that was my honest and real live conversation with an actual literary agent.

Within an hour, I had an out-of-the-blue text from an old friend who lives back east. He said how much he enjoyed my book and it was the first book he’d actually read through in ten years and asked me if I had an agent to make it into a movie.

I told him I didn’t, and asked if he knew anyone in Hollywood.

And he said he did and sent a linked text message to me and his Hollywood contact. 

I googled books to film. Long haul, and patience are the words that Google responded with. We shall see what the future brings on this ongoing publication train! 

And I am in awe of the serendipities that happen multiple times a day, if only I am present enough to recognize them. I also realize that miracles do happen if I get out of the way and let them unfold.

Let the magic happen!