My agent asked me to give him the titles of five novels that are similar to my historical fiction.
It’s a common request. People in the publishing industry want to know what your book is like so they can quickly categorize it.
“I’ll get the list by July 31st,” I replied nonchalantly. Inside I’m quaking.
So the deadline rolled around, and I still had no comparable novels. I’m no procrastinator, but I quail at the thought of comparing my novel to…Giants. Books that everyone knows about. Books that made the New York Times Bestseller list. Yes, those Giants.
So instead, in the privacy of my office, I had a hissy fit. Not on the floor screaming and flailing my arms and legs like a two-year-old. But I felt like it inside.
Then I remembered Amelia Earhardt. “The most effective way to do it, is to do it,” she said. No flailing arms and legs. No emotional breakdowns. How would it have helped Amelia flying solo over the Atlantic Ocean? Not at all.
So I got a grip on myself and picked ‘em. My book is like that one. And that one. And that other one.
No word from my agent. So I think I did okay.