Show. Me. The. Money.
I have always felt a common bond with Cuba Gooding Jr. Not the guy – his career has kind of dwindled into nothing (cough Pepsi commercial cough) – but the character he played in Jerry McGuire: Rod Tidwell. While part of the reason is I love everybody and want people to earnestly appreciate my quan, the main, relatable to this post, reason is because I have always wanted to scream into a phone for my agent to “Show me the money!”
Exhausted anecdotal rhetoric aside, agents serve a purpose very crucial to authors. They are career sherpas. They, much like publishers, validate and champion our artistic endeavors. They’re like a good quarterback coach. They help us work on our feet and see the whole field, or, in authorial terms, they put us in touch with good editors and help us define our work and image on macro and micro levels.
Having an agent is a sign of professionalism. It is an act of serious intent which shows publishers that an author is credible and ready to work.
While I understand the situations in which an agent can have a negative influence, an agent would have a tremendous impact on my career as a writer coming out of college. I know no one. If I invest myself into a piece for a however long period of time, I do not want to have to geico self-publish it in 15 minutes or less. I want someone to be the Obiwan to my Luke. I want to have someone with the connections that the overview describes: “An agent’s reputation rests on the value of his or her tips. Well-aimed person-to- person recommendations are what get books published.” (Module Three)
Bottom line, I want an ambassador of quan.