In Memoriam: Janet Reid, the QueryShark

This is not a blog article I wanted to write. Ever. But it’s an article I need to write.

This week, my dear friend, Literary Agent Janet Reid passed away after a short illness.

Janet and I only met in person on a couple of occasions, both of which are documented on this blog. The first was Bouchercon 2015, where I managed to spend a good amount of time in her company along with other writers, hopeful writers, and publishing industry professionals. You can read the story of that adventure here: [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The second occasion was in January of 2017 when I traveled with my oldest daughter to New York where she was interviewing with prospective colleges. Since we were staying in Manhatten, we took the opportunity to visit with Janet and spent a very pleasant afternoon at lunch and at the agency she was with at the time. You can read about that here: [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

In between these times, over the past 12 years, Janet and I exchanged emails, Twitter messages, and, most frequently, comments on her blog. Regulars to this little corner of cyberspace will know that I often entered her flash fiction contests, and even won a few of them. But there are those who were much closer to Janet than me–family, colleagues, clients–who are going through a grief much deeper than I could ever know. I contacted one of her clients today to pass on my condolences. He told me he is “totally shaken.”

Nevertheless, I share a deep sadness with the many lives Janet touched. It’s somewhat gratifying to see that “QueryShark” is currently trending on Twitter:

For those who don’t know, QueryShark is a blog that Janet ran where writers could submit their agent queries for critique. Janet selected queries to feature that she thought would be educational, and she offered advice on how to make the query more attractive to prospective agents. Submitters were invited to re-submit after making changes so we could see the progress. Some of those queries eventually won agents and publishing deals for their authors. This service was an extension of Janet’s generosity to those struggling to find their way in the publishing world. She understood how hard it can be to navigate, and also sympathized with how unjust and unfair it can be, sometimes being quite vocal about her pet peeves. For example, “no response means no” agents, or “Normans” as I affectionately call them, were a particular irritation to her. These are agents for whom a non-response to a query is equivalent to a no. While she understood why agents would not respond to a query they had no intention of acting upon, she felt it was discourteous to the author who might be left for months wondering if the agent was interested. Her policy was to always respond–even if it was a brief auto-response–to every query.

Another of Janet’s unwritten rules was to be open to anything. She had her preferred genres where she felt most comfortable providing representation, but she would tell writers if they are in doubt whether they’ve written something she would enjoy, to query anyway. The worst that could happen is she would say no. At best, she would love it and recommend it to another agent, or take it on anyway. It must have been a policy like this that led her to represent Laird Barron. Laird writes horror, and Janet was NOT a fan of horror. I always wondered how she ended up becoming his agent, especially since he had only previously written short stories prior to becoming a client of hers. When I asked her about this at Bouchercon, she replied in a cryptic tone, “I’ll have to tell you that story someday.” I never did hear the story.

None of Janet’s authors are in the Stephen King/J. K. Rowling/Lee Child leagues as far as fame and sales go. Some are best-selling authors, but they are all good writers who deserve to be published and have, with her help, managed to carve out comfortable writing careers. Janet herself was not particularly well-known outside of writing and publishing circles (literary agents rarely are). But her influence was huge, way beyond her fame (or notoriety). She was much loved and respected (perhaps grudgingly by some) within the industry, as a quick glance through the tribute posts on Twitter reveals.

But more than all of that, she was a friend. A good friend. One who would message you to make sure you are okay after losing your job. Or offer assistance if you are stranded in New York. Or just exchange emails to chat about life.

Janet Reid will be sorely missed. She already is.

The kale on Carkoon has lost its luster. QOTKU has resigned her throne. Let the Reider understand.