August, 2009
Dear [client’s name],
Gambatte kudasai! That’s what our intern Keiko - whom we had to fire in June - would say to us when things looked bleakest. Keep your chin up, she’d say with a smile. And then we’d close our door.
Autumn is nearly here and as dire as things may seem out there in the publishing world, we are committed to representing your projects, at least through the rest of 2009.
The last thing we want is for you to fixate on layoffs at Simon & Schuster, salary freezes at Penguin, imprint mergers at Random House or that silly acquisition ban at Houghton. HarperCollins may have shut down a couple divisions, but they were non-fiction divisions. Remember - you make stuff up, Artist. Dismal days at publishing conglomerates can’t matter to your creative process. They matter only in that we’re going to have trouble selling your ideas.
Your representatives here at Chazz Kopplerbach Hoarb Literary Agency don’t want you to have to think about any of that. We want you to keep envisioning big, ambitious, important. Bring us your novel and we will do the rest. That’s our pledge to you. We will sell your manuscript. I swear to God we will. Seriously.
Without further adieu, The List. As our disclaimer goes each year, these are only premises to get those creative juices running. These are ideas that we Professional Literary Agents who lunch with Professional Book Editors every day (yes, these days at Gray’s Papaya), know would sell. As always, we don’t want to stifle your own mojo, but these are good plots in search of a great writer. That’s you.
So take a look at these ideas: Pick one up. Play with it. Toss it around. Bounce it off a wall. Give it a bath. Run over it with your car. Squish it into your kids’ knapsack. Take it to shul some Shabbos. Watch an episode of “The Real Housewives of Atlanta” while it sits next to you on the couch.
A quick straw poll around the office (really quick, I mean, like, in the last ten minutes) suggested a strong collective prediction that Fall 2009 is going to be the Autumn of historical fiction involving kings. Following are some royal historical plot sketches we’d love to see blown out big and bold by someone with your talent.
Good luck!
- What really happened between Suryavarman I and Jayavarman V after the death of the Khmer Empire’s King Udayadityavarman I 998 A.D.? Suryavarman I, of course, captured the Cambodian throne, but at what cost to Rithisak, the woman he and Jayavarman V both loved?
- When Queen Maria II of Portugal returned from exile in England in 1834, she knew - even at the age of 15 - that she would have to stand up to her uncle (and husband), Prince Miguel, who had pronounced himself king in her absence, and trashed the Constitution her father had composed. But her heart wasn’t in it. In fact, her heart was in Swanage, on the Dorset coast, with Jerome - Yak Boy. He had been Maria’s playmate as a child, and she had longed to stay in Swanage with Jerome and his yaks forever. But civil war was raging in Maria’s homeland and she was damned if she would let her uncle-husband turn Lisbon into Vienna.
- When Canute, son of Sweyn Forkbeard, was only 17 and taking part in his father’s conquest of England in 1016, he had no idea he would become the first Danish ruler of the British Isles. He also had no idea the fulsome women of Wessex would welcome him and his father’s band of tired, strapping warriors with such vigor and enterprise.
- In 454 B.C., Xerxes II, son of King Artaxerxes I, was just 16 when he was captured by his father’s enemies. The men who opposed the king’s imposition of Zoroastrianism as Persia’s state religion were ruthless, and the only light during those dark years was a little girl who came every day to the walls of Xerxes Babylonian prison and tossed a pomegranate over the fence to save him from starvation. One day, he dreamed, they would marry and make a life together - maybe in Scottsdale. Two weeks after Xerxes was freed, he refused the Persian crown and went looking for the girl who saved his life. But then he died of a staph infection he got from rubbing himself with a rotting blanket.
- Cuacuauhpitzahuac’s mother died giving birth to him in the hills of Tlatelolco in 1388. Each year on that date - his birthday - Cuacuauhpitzahuac honored his beloved mother by killing someone else’s mother. The Aztec press dubbed him Nantli Temictiloni, or the Mother Killer. Cuacuauhpitzahuac was never caught, and died of a massive stroke, just minutes after his 89th kill. How did he hide his deadly secret while carrying on his duties as Tlatelolco’s king? Did he have accomplices inside the royal palace? A thrilling tale of courtly intrigue, murder, ancient killing, baronial slaughter, deadly regal butchery and Mummenschanz.
- On the surface, Erik Bloodaxe, son of Harald Fairhair, was like every other 10th Century Norwegian king - he loved beer, he loved the ladies, he loved elf sacrifice - but he was living a lie. Though Erik had to hide it even from Queen Gunnhild, poetry was what he loved most. To whom might Bloodaxe bare his balladist soul? To whom? Whom? Who? What? Huh?
- Khan Chagatai was already 45-years-old when he and his brother Tului took over the Mongol Empire after their father Ghengis died. Which was sort of awkward since their father had been only 13 himself when he had taken over his own father’s tribe. Then Ghengis just happened to create one of the largest kingdom’s ever known to man. And now Khan would have to share power? With his idiot brother? Sure, Tului was, technically, adept at conquering vassal states. But the way he did it was so…inelegant. Who marauds an entire village, sparing all the Merkits, but raping all their pet marmots? That is seriously fucked up.
- Burma was a desperate place at the end of the 19th century. With the constant threat of a British incursion across its borders, King Thibaw Min sat in the capital of Mandalay wondering how to protect his people. A treaty with France was one option. As was a big, huge wall of fire along the country’s borders. What about torching the royal elephants and having them march in a circle around the country trunk-to-tail? What about serving the British troops really hot soup? Or some sort of mirror trick?
PHOTO: Wayne Hoarb of Chazz Kopplerbach Hoarb, LLC
