The Nightmare of Querying Literary Agents

Is it worth it?

This topic has been on my mind a lot lately because I’ve just gone through the process all over again and found myself facing the same brick walls I hit a decade ago. It’s made me reflect on how much has changed in publishing… and how much hasn’t.

I got into the querying game many moons ago, after the publication of my second novel, A Lullaby for No One’s Vuk. I published it, people started liking it, and I figured I could try my hand at an international book deal. Back then, self-published authors had the reputation of those who couldn’t cut it traditionally, and as someone who had always relied on having a publisher back home, I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Little did I know how grueling the process would be and what it would entail.

Step 1: Research

Before you can even consider querying an agent, you’re supposed to do a lot (and I mean a lot) of research. There’s a Guide to Literary Agents that comes out every year listing the ones that operate in English, or you can use Query Tracker. But you can’t rely on either of these fully. Sometimes, an agent is taking queries but isn’t listed on Query Tracker, and availability constantly shifts compared to a printed guide that becomes partly outdated the second it’s published.

Once you find an agency that accepts unsolicited queries and represents books like yours, you want to visit their website and look at their list of agents. You want to make sure that your book is in line with their preferences, their current list, and their wish list.

Step 2: Materials

Once you select the best person for you, you need to figure out how they want to be queried and what materials they require.

Some want you to use Query Manager. Others insist on email or online forms directly on their website. Every agent will want a query letter. Most ask for a one-page synopsis and a certain number of sample pages. And those numbers, of course, vary from agent to agent because, god forbid, there were standard industry norms to make life easier.

The query letter is a science in itself, and you want to nail it and personalize it for each agent, appealing to their list and preferences. There are plenty of resources out there to figure out how to write one, and my favorite advice comes from the Bookends Literary podcast:

Step 3: Submitting and Waiting

After you’ve researched, selected your agent, and perfected your materials, you hit “send” and enter the part no one tells you much about: the wait. This is where the process becomes a masterclass in patience, self-doubt, and disappointment. Some agents respond in a matter of days, others in weeks or months, but most never respond at all. Many agencies clearly state that if you don’t hear back within a certain amount of weeks (the most I’ve seen is 16), consider it a pass. And when they don’t bother to even reply, it’s really, really hard not to feel ignored and belittled.

The Odds

Here’s a snapshot of response stats from one agent of a mid-sized international agency, pulled from Query Tracker just minutes ago:

It’s May 8th. This person hasn’t replied to a query in a month and hasn’t requested a manuscript in two. Their query reply rate is 1.5%, and their request-for-partial-manuscript rate is 1%. We can’t see the percentage of their offers of representation, but the math makes it easy to guess.

And while some agents do respond, the request rate is always around these percentages.

From what I’ve gathered listening to interviews, agents receive several hundred unsolicited queries per week and spend just seconds on each. If your pitch hooks them instantly, they might read your entire query letter… and then reject you anyway. Most won’t reply at all.

My Querying Experience

I have queried agents three times so far.

The first time, as I already mentioned, was in 2012 when I tried to find international representation for A Lullaby for No One’s Vuk. I cast a wide net, querying around 70 or 80 agents at once. To my surprise, I had positive responses within days, with about a dozen agents asking to read the manuscript. Within a week, I had four offers of representation.

Back then, there weren’t as many resources online (or I wasn’t savvy enough to find them), so I had no idea that once an agent offers representation, the power dynamic flips, the agent becomes the one “applying for a job,” and you become the one choosing. I also didn’t know I was supposed to leverage one offer to encourage other agents to move faster and try harder.

All four offers came from boutique agencies. I picked a young agent at one of them, drawn in because the agency represented a very, very famous author. I thought that connection would improve my odds.

He and I worked on polishing the translation for about two months. Once we were happy with it, he had his colleagues review it before pitching to publishers. A few days later, he came back with a whole new attitude: he demanded that I completely rewrite the book, setting it explicitly in Montenegro because his colleagues felt foreign readers wanted to learn about new countries.

By then, my book had already been adapted into a play at the National Theater in Belgrade, and I was deep into its world. I didn’t want to do a major rewrite after so long, so I let it sit while I made up my mind.

Nearly a year later, the agent emailed to tell me he was leaving the agency. My signed contract didn’t transfer to anyone else in the agency, leaving me agent-less and free to query again.

I took a break to lick my wounds, then tried querying again. This time? Crickets. Maybe one or two agents responded to reject me.

Fast-forward to 2024 and my newest novel, Fathers Before Sons. This time I wrote it directly in English and made sure to ground it in Montenegro, rich with local flavor. No one wanted it. The two agents who gave real feedback said they worried about the marketability of a book set in Montenegro. The irony…

So, I released it back home and waited to see what readers thought. It was a way to set aside presumptions and check on myself and the quality of my work. It’s been #1 for seven weeks straight, and the feedback has been phenomenal. That confirmed for me that I wasn’t insane and still knew how to write a damn good book. It also pushed me to conclude that, unless one last thing works out, my best shot at getting this story to international readers is through self-publishing.

The Math

I recently stumbled upon a YouTube video that cemented my decision by breaking down the math behind why agents reject so much and making a strong case that debut authors might be better off skipping agents and traditional publishing entirely:

Agents earn 15% of advances, royalties, and subrights. But for debut fiction authors, advances typically range from $5,000 to $10,000. That means an agent’s cut is $750 to $1,500 per book—often the total they’ll ever make, since most books sell only around 250 copies. To make a living, agents have to keep their time investment minimal (ideally under 10 hours per project) because most of the books they pitch won’t sell at all. Even if one out of three does sell, the payout is so small that it rarely covers their time unless the book becomes a hit. This is why most agents reject: they simply can’t afford to take on books that don’t have obvious market fit, strong comps, and clear sales potential.

And even if you do land a deal, the reality of traditional publishing is bleak unless you’re getting a six-figure advance. Publishers don’t invest real marketing or publicity in smaller books (those with $5,000–$10,000 advances). Your book might technically be available to bookstores, but it won’t get shelf space beyond your local indie unless you push for it yourself. The editing and cover design are usually outsourced to freelancers—the same people you can hire if you self-publish.

In short: unless your goal is prestige or validation, there’s little reason to pursue traditional publishing, because you’ll still be responsible for 100% of the marketing and sales, and you’ll earn far less per copy while giving up control.

Being an indie author isn’t what it was a decade ago when it was considered the path for writers who couldn’t hack it traditionally. Today, many authors choose to go indie because they don’t want to give up rights or control.

So, after an unfortunate experience with a cover designer, I’ve hired one of the most famous book cover artists in the world, the amazing Owen Gent and once he’s done, I plan to put the book on NetGalley before making it available via Amazon and IngramSpark.

The Big Picture

So, was querying worth it? I’m glad I tried. I learned the ropes, figured out what I want (and don’t want), and gained clarity on where I fit in the publishing landscape.

But would I recommend it to a new writer today? Only if your goal is traditional prestige and you’re ready to play a long, patience-draining game.

Otherwise, don’t be afraid to carve your own path. The landscape is changing. But I’m getting the impression that, more and more, that’s not a bad thing.