Literary Agents Offer Assistance To Scientists Writing For The Public

The writing that is a major part of a scientist's professional life does not usually languish unread. Rarely, for example, is a go-between needed to direct a paper or grant proposal to the appropriate journal or agency. And attention and encouragement are intense for those who respond with in- terest to a textbook publisher's quest for authors. But for a researcher trying to sell a popular science book to a potential publisher, it's another matter entirely. In such instances, it is essential for the writer to have a literary agent who will smooth the way, scientist- authors say. Once a scientist signs a contract to write a trade book, the agent usually fades into the background, handling payments and other business matters while the writer writes. But having a contract isn't a guarantee that you'll have a book. Your book may never see the light of day if it isn't adequately developed. "At many publishing houses, editors are overloaded from all the mergers and downsizing, so they no longer have the time to nurture a book," says Michael Snell, a literary agent specializing in science books in Truro, Mass. "Ten years ago an editor may have had four or five books per season. Now it's 20 to 25 books per season. Therefore, a lot of what gets turned in is ultimately abandoned," Snell says. And if a publisher decides to drop its science line, the firm can back out of contracts, says William Calvin, an associate professor of psychiatry and neurobiology at the University of Washington in Seattle and author of seven trade books. Another author's nightmare is seeing his or her prized book on the discount table at K-Mart. This is what happens when a book is "remaindered," says Calvin. "In the mid-1970s, federal tax law provided a large incentive if books don't sell well to get rid of them. This is how they end up on clearance tables in bookstores," he says. Calvin is most disturbed about the short lives of his books, only one of which has gone beyond an initial printing. "Books from academic presses and textbook publishers tend to remain available for half-a-dozen years. But in trade publishing, if it isn't big, in two years, it is unavailable," he says. Calvin is now in the frustrating position of having his books that are out of print in the United States being published in Dutch and German. A professor who wanted to assign one of Calvin's books to his students couldn't, because the book was no longer for sale. A financial hedge against a book's being abandoned is to secure a hefty advance. And agents say that means having one of them on the author's side. "The trade publishers expect an agent to filter material," says Snell. "Most major trade publishers will not consider unsolicited material. You can be an MIT professor and Simon & Schuster will send you a form letter telling you to get an agent," says Michael Snell, a literary agent in Truro, Mass. Snell spent a dozen years in academic publishing as an executive editor at Wadsworth Publishing Co. of Belmont, Calif., before becoming an agent in 1979. He represents scientist and physician writers, many of whom come to him after unsuccessfully trying to attract publisher interest on their own. "The trade book situation is so different from academic publishing. You have to use an agent to get them to look at anything," says William Calvin, an associate professor of psychiatry and neurobiology at the University of Washington in Seattle. He has published seven popular science books, including How the Shaman Stole the Moon (New York, Bantam Books, 1992), a neurobiology book. Calvin says his agent, New York-based John Brockman, has been invaluable. "A writer's first priority is to find an agent, for they are the essential gatekeepers," Calvin says. Writer's Market (Cincinnati, Writer's Digest Books, published annually), a bible of sorts for writers, defines a literary agent as part sales representative, part business manager. An agent screens proposals for those that are publishable, and attempts to place them with publishers. The agent typically receives 15 percent to 20 percent of the author's income from advances or royalties. Robert Pollack, a professor of biology at Columbia University, raves about his agent. "She was professional, efficient, clear-minded, and I knew that she was implacably on my side," he says. "I went from a poor shlep trying to be taken seriously by publishers to a person who would be revealed to the appropriate person at the appropriate time and to the appropriate publishing house." Pollack's book, Signs of Life: The Language and Meanings of DNA, is scheduled for publication this winter by Houghton-Mifflin Co. of Boston. A literary agent first helps a scientist-author find a niche for the type of book he or she has in mind. "Is it cutting- edge science, or a review of a traditional field? If the topic is genetics, will the writer zero in on a particular aspect, or present an overview?" says Regula Noetzli, an agent specializing in science trade books at the Charlotte Sheedy Agency in New York. Writing to a particular audience on a level it can understand is crucial, too. A book to introduce an area of science to other scientists in different fields, for example, would use a style quite unlike that of a health-oriented book for consumers with little scientific savvy. Agents also help writers polish their proposals before they are sent to publishers. In trade publishing, the proposal is de rigueur: An author submits a proposal and perhaps a sample chapter or two. A proposal must be concise, clear, and riveting; moreover, the idea that is described must have an identifiable market. The art of proposal writing involves more than just putting words on a page, says Snell: "It is developing and organizing the proposal, studying the competition, and identifying the audience and market." Here is where a scientist should accept an agent's suggestions--a concept to which some academic researchers find it hard to adjust, since "professors are so used to telling their students what's right," Snell says. "I tell scientists, `I can't tell you about vertebrate physiology, but you can't tell me much about publishing,'" he says. Once a proposal is fine-tuned, it begins the rounds of publishers. "An agent knows which publisher is likely to be interested, and has entre to an editor," says Calvin. If a publisher is interested in the scientist's proposal, the agent helps negotiate a contract. "There are a lot of things a publisher can slip past an author who lacks contract experience," says Snell. Many novice authors, for example, are not aware that the cost of artwork will be deducted from royalties or the advance--unless they haggle at contract time for the publisher to pick up this expense. "Half of the items on a contract are routinely crossed off, but some things publishers won't budge on. Agents know that, and because they deal with the same editors over and over, they do not have to win the same argument over and over," says Calvin, who retained electronic publishing and translation rights to his books. In addition to knowing what a publisher is likely to compromise on and what is written in stone, an agent brings a distancing that an author cannot, agents say. "Most writers are unprepared to negotiate on their own behalf," Snell says. "It is your work, so you are emotionally involved. It's hard to be objective, as you need to be in this business." A successful proposal earns a lump-sum advance against royalties. Since royalties usually do not amount to much-- and in fact often come to less than the advance--the advance is often the only income the author sees. But advances can be quite impressive. "You'd think a publisher wouldn't buy a book until it was written, but that's absolutely not true. They pay a $100,000 advance on the basis of a four- to five- page prospectus," says Calvin. Prospective authors should realize, however, that only the most successful scientist- turned-authors command such fees. A first-timer is more likely to get between $25,000 and $50,000, he says. A major obstacle in moving from grant writer or article author to trade publishing is the fact that many scientists are not skillful writers. "If they try to write a popular science book, they do not know what they can expect in the basic knowledge of the audience," says Noetzli. Agents and editors pinpoint a major problem in many scientists' attempt at popular writing--the stilted, remote passive voice that pervades scholarly journals. "Scientists seem to be hesitant to write a simple, direct, declarative sentence," says Bob Kalish, coauthor of Global Alert, a book on ozone (New York, Plenum Publishing Corp., 1992). Snell offers an example of a scientist's prose passed on to him by an editor at Wadsworth: "The small quadruped effected its descent from the arboreal habitat to engage in the ingestion of sustenance." The editor crossed it out and penciled in: "The squirrel came down from the tree to eat." To combat the problems caused by the scientist who has a great idea and an impeccable background--but who also tends to discuss quadrupeds in arboreal habitats--some editors offer yet another service: They hook up the aspiring scientist author with an established writer who can effectively communicate the researcher's ideas to the public. Such help can come from several sources. A coauthor contributes original chapters or polishes the scientist's writing, or both. "The main thing I contribute is a sense of style," Kalish says of his part in this literary symbiosis. "I make it interesting." A coauthor splits the advance or royalties, the percentage reflecting the amount of work involved. A ghostwriter is generally paid a fee by the author, but relinquishes the credit that a coauthor would retain. Another option is for the author to hire a developmental editor. This is someone who coaches the author in how to rewrite a garbled or overly technical manuscript--a service that was once provided by the publisher after an author submitted a manuscript (see story on page 21). Writing teams are formed in various ways. Noetzli, for example, keeps a list of writers on staff at a well-known mass-market science magazine who are available for collaborations. Jack Fishman, an atmospheric scientist at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration in Langley, Va., found his own coauthor--Bob Kalish, who is his cousin. Together, they produced Global Alert. "Fishman had done research on surface ozone, and written articles for professional journals that he felt the general public should be aware of, but he knew that what he wrote was too technical," says Snell, their agent. "But he had a cousin who was a professional writer, who had a couple of successful novels, and who had ghostwritten a few books with doctors. When put together, they could create a book that neither could have done alone." Many authors find their agents by word of mouth. This was the case for Pollack. He originally sent his book about DNA sequences to university presses where he had contacts, although he sought a broader readership. These publishers sent his manuscript to other biology professors for review, hardly a valid test of how the book would fare among the shopping-mall bookstore set. "So I contacted Horace Judson, who wrote The Eighth Day of Creation [New York, Simon & Schuster Inc., 1979], also about DNA," Pollack recalls. "Coincidentally, he had already read my manuscript for one of the university presses, and said, `It's not a university press book. You need an agent.'" So Pollack approached Judson's agent, who took him on. For those without personal tips, the best place to look for an agent is a book available in libraries, Literary Market Place, or LMP (New York, R.R. Bowker Co., published annually). "For an agent to obtain a listing in LMP, he or she must establish credentials of having sold three books for advances in the past 12 months--and they check it out. If you're not listed, you have no track record," says Snell. Another good source for finding an agent is Writer's Market. Agents offer the following tips for aspiring authors: Once you find an agent who specializes in science trade books, send a one-page query letter describing your planned book, why it will sell, and why you are qualified to write it. Submit a publication list, including both professional and popular articles. Pollack, for example, mentioned an op-ed piece he had written that was published in the New York Times. Swamping an agent with reprints from the Journal of Experimental Zoology may not help you plead your case. If an agent is interested in representing you, he or she will then ask to see a proposal and perhaps a sample chapter or two. Calvin managed to sell his first book, Inside the Brain (New York, New American Library, 1980), without an agent--and with a lot of luck, he says. But his editor quickly put him in touch with an agent, and his writing career has been much easier ever. "As far as I can see, you need an agent all the time," he says. Ricki Lewis is a freelance science writer based in Scotia, N.Y.

Literary Agents Offer Assistance To Scientists Writing For The Public

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Ricki Lewis

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February 1994

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