Joyce Holland-On being a writer and an agent.
Mike asked me a question. He wanted to know if I preferred being an agent or a writer. Now there's a loaded question, but it has an easy answer. I'm a writer through and through. However, being writer produces a million frustrations, and not just because it's hard to get published. The real frustration is the constant need to express yourself, a trait that lies deep within each true 'writer.' I remember even as a child grabbing a pencil and paper and penning rude retorts to my family and friends for perceived injustices. And you know the rest, I felt better for having expressed myself–to myself. I certainly never sent them those evil missives, they would have disowned me. The other trait I believe is common to us is the art of daydreaming. I was a horrible student when I was little, mainly because I wasn't really there. I was in my zone, creating my make-believe world. So, when I write, that's where I return, to those happy make-believe days where things happen the way I want.
The hardest writing I ever did was when I wrote a true crime. The "truth" confined me to the real world, and it wasn't a pleasant one. For one thing, the crime happened in my neighborhood and a family member was one of the players in the drama leading up to that ghastly night. It was years after the murder before I could bring myself to write a book about it. It was like writing my own version of 'Peyton Place.' People in town bought the book hoping to get the scoop on half the county — and, to make sure they weren't in it. LOL.
We'll get to the agenting part in a minute, but first, I realize you don't have a clue as to what I'm talking about, so let me help you out. Hey, it's out of print so I'm not trying to sell it to you. Here's the blurb for MY, MY, MYRA:
Known for their flamboyant lifestyle, it was no surprise to this community when Robert and Myra Vaivada became overnight headline news. But many of their secrets continue to surface–secrets that are still shocking this quiet little resort town on Florida's Emerald Coast. What brought the couple to that crucial night? The night, when close to midnight, Myra placed a gun to Robert's head while he lay sleeping and blew his brains out.
Was it money? Robert, an ex Navy Seal, had an accident years before and received close to a million dollars in a court settlement. Was it love? Although both Myra and Robert had extramarital affairs, often as participants in group encounters, Myra had become sexually obsessed with a local musician. She showered him with gifts and money. Or, did Myra do it at all? She still maintains an intruder broke in, robbed them of thirty to forty-thousand dollars and murdered Robert.
Bizarre stories concerning the Vaivadas abound. Stories such as Myra calling exclusive clothing stores and having them bring over a truck with clothing in her size, picking out the ones she liked and then trying them on in her driveway. Stories of Myra cruising the strip every night in a limousine, picking up men or women to feed her insatiable sexual appetite.
At the time of the murder, Myra's stepfather was an Air Force General. The sordid details of the case attracted so much publicity that the firm of Simpson & Judkins was hired to defend Myra. Simpson was the prosecutor of Ted Bundy. People came from all over northwest Florida to line up for a seat at the sensational thirteen-day trial.
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Sounds juicy, huh? Well it was, but it was work from beginning to end. I spent months in the courthouse and hours taking interviews. I might as well have been writing a term paper. I'm not sure I understand the joy that some people get from writing nonfiction. I'm still that little girl whose mother found her in the closet with a flashlight shining down on her world of marble people. ( I had more of them then dolls.)
Ah … the agenting business. Yes, I love it too. I get to read other peoples' dreams. Ones that haven't seen the light of day yet, and I get to help make that happen. It's the next best thing to writing the stories myself. I went from being conference chair for my local writers' organization to becoming an agent. It felt like a natural progression for me. I enjoyed helping other writers showcase their talent by importing editors and agents for our conferences. Then I decided I would be even more helpful if I were an agent myself. Anyway, that's how this ordinary writer became an extraordinary agent. Just kidding. I do my best and that's all I can say about that.
