Amanda Luedeke is a literary agent with MacGregor Literary. She posts about growing your author platform every Thursday. You can follow her on Twitter @amandaluedeke or join her Facebook group to stay current with her wheelings and dealings as an agent.

I was on a plane yesterday with a gentleman who found out I was an agent and started asking me about the industry. He had a book idea, and a bunch of questions to go with it, and eventually he started asking about formatting the manuscript and design and all of that stuff.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” I said. “An author has two responsibilities: Deadlines and marketing. They have to get their manuscript turned in on time and then market the heck out of their book.”

And that’s where the conversation took a turn.

“I didn’t know authors had to be marketers,” he said. “I thought they just sat in their homes and wrote and wrote and didn’t talk to a soul.”

Twenty years ago, he would have been right. But Al Gore’s Internet changed everything. It made the world smaller.

And Twitter is as small as it can possibly get.

Ten years ago, celebrities were untouchable. If you wanted to know about their lifestyles, you read the tabloids or watched Cribs. If you wanted to meet them, you stalked their tour buses or started working out in LA gyms. Or, you’d stand outside of MTV studios in Time Square or set up camp in LAX, studying the faces of passersby. But even these strategies would fail. Meeting a celebrity was an occurance left to chance.

But these days, it’s as easy as sending a text message.

I follow Zach Braff (@zachbraff) on Twitter. He’s an actor/director/writer, most well-known for his work on Scrubs and Garden State. He’s a big-time celebrity, but on Twitter, he's just a regular guy. He dispels tabloid rumors, shares

Amanda Luedeke is a literary agent with MacGregor Literary. She posts about growing your author platform every Thursday. You can follow her on Twitter @amandaluedeke or join her Facebook group to stay current with her wheelings and dealings as an agent.

I was on a plane yesterday with a gentleman who found out I was an agent and started asking me about the industry. He had a book idea, and a bunch of questions to go with it, and eventually he started asking about formatting the manuscript and design and all of that stuff.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” I said. “An author has two responsibilities: Deadlines and marketing. They have to get their manuscript turned in on time and then market the heck out of their book.”

And that’s where the conversation took a turn.

“I didn’t know authors had to be marketers,” he said. “I thought they just sat in their homes and wrote and wrote and didn’t talk to a soul.”

Twenty years ago, he would have been right. But Al Gore’s Internet changed everything. It made the world smaller.

And Twitter is as small as it can possibly get.

Ten years ago, celebrities were untouchable. If you wanted to know about their lifestyles, you read the tabloids or watched Cribs. If you wanted to meet them, you stalked their tour buses or started working out in LA gyms. Or, you’d stand outside of MTV studios in Time Square or set up camp in LAX, studying the faces of passersby. But even these strategies would fail. Meeting a celebrity was an occurance left to chance.

But these days, it’s as easy as sending a text message.

I follow Zach Braff (@zachbraff) on Twitter. He’s an actor/director/writer, most well-known for his work on Scrubs and Garden State. He’s a big-time celebrity, but on Twitter, he's just a regular guy. He dispels tabloid rumors, shares

We've been exploring what you need to know when you approach a book contract. Here are five more questions to ask…

11. Are there restrictions on the sale of the contract? Check to see if your publisher has the right to sell the entire deal to another house. This doesn't happen often, but it can happen, especially with smaller houses, and you need to be aware of the possibility. It would mean you go through the entire process of negotiating a deal with one house, then suddenly you find yourself working with another house. I once had a sleaze-ball publisher sign a well-known personality to a book, then immediately start shopping the contract… In other words, he never had any intention of publishing the book; he just wanted to sign a lowball deal and flip it to a bigger house. (This is something he admitted to me, but denied to the author. Mr. Sleazeball is now an agent, by the way.)

12. If it all goes south, who pays for the lawyers? Remember that a contract is put in place to clarify two things: what will happen if everything goes well, and what will happen if everything goes to hell. A good contract covers both scenarios. In case of the latter, check to see who covers the cost of the lawyers. True story: A short while back I was sent a contract that called for the publisher to pick the lawyer, but the author to pay for it. Um… we suggested a minor wording change to keep the author from getting hosed.  

13. Does your contract clarify what constitutes "out of print"? It should be simple: When the publisher is no longer selling your book, it's out of print. Don't get caught up in windy explanations of why publishing-on-demand titles constitute a book for sale. (Years ago, I worked on a deal where a publisher claimed

Okay, so you've got a book contract, and you're wondering what you don't know. Here are a few more questions to ask…

6. When will the book be published? In most book contracts there is a window that explains your book will be made available for sale within two years. I recently saw a contract that had a five-year window on it, and another contract that didn't limit the publishing time at all. The danger (and it's happened to others) is that you'll turn in a book the publisher keeps forever but never actually publishes. Generally you want wording where the publisher makes a legal promise to produce your print book in an 18-to-24 month window, your ebook faster. 

7. When are advances paid? Make sure you know when you're getting paid. Traditionally an author received half the advance on signing and the other half on completion. Many of the New York houses now pay one-third on signing, one-third on delivery, and one-third on publication. Random House has this author-unfriendly clause that calls for one quarter of the advance to be paid a year after the book releases (so it's not really an "advance," it's more like a "delay"). And HarperCollins pays a portion of the advance after the author has filled out a marketing questionnaire — their way of making sure they get their information. I recently saw a contract that called for the advance to be broken into eighths (signing, completion of a questionnaire, after an interview with marketing, completion of the manuscript, completion of typesetting… um…the next full moon, etc.)

8. When are royalties paid? Many publishing houses pay twice per year. Some of the larger houses pay quarterly. I still see some contracts that call for royalty payments to authors once per year… and no, that publisher won't be offering to pay you interest on that money they've been holding for you. And

Every once in a while, I'll set a contract in front of an author, and he or she will say, "Just tell me where to sign." I have to explain that they need to know what they're signing. The fact is, every clause in a contract can be deemed important, if you consider it's a legal document that will govern everything about your book for as long as it's in print. So let me offer several questions an author ought to think about…

1. What's the grant of rights? Your contract should ask you to grant specific rights to the publisher. Not "everything, always, in all circumstances." And rights not specifically granted to the publisher are to be retained by the author. Keep in mind that you (as the author) own the work — you're granting a license to a publisher for them to produce and sell copies of your work. So understand what you're granting them. 

2. Is the wording clear? Know what you're signing. Understand the due date, the word count, the rights being granted. Some publishers have exceptionally easy-to-read contracts (Baker, Harlequin, and Harvest House are three that come to mind). Others can have contracts that read as though they were invented by lawyers for whom English is not their first language. If you don't understand what you're signing, ask questions. And let me offer a word of advice: If you have an agent, he or she ought to be able to explain what you're signing. If you don't have an agent, you can get help from a contract evaluation service, which will charge you a couple hundred bucks to review your contract and suggest changes. [You can also have a contracts or intellectual property rights attorney review the contract, but DON'T have him or her negotiate it for you. The moment they pick up that phone, the clock is ticking…and the longer they can keep

Amanda Luedeke is a literary agent with MacGregor Literary. She posts about growing your author platform every Thursday. You can follow her on Twitter @amandaluedeke or join her Facebook group to stay current with her wheelings and dealings as an agent.

When I first met Chip, I’d occasionally run a book idea by him just to see if anything sparked his interest. I remember at one point, I came up with this GREAT idea for a book all about making your wedding your own. It was about ditching tradition and going for something that reflected your uniqueness as a couple. But when I pitched this future bestseller to Chip, he kind of glazed over. He gave me a few pointers, patted me on the back and sent me on my way. And I couldn’t figure out why.

But now, years later, I know exactly what he was thinking: I’m not a wedding expert. People don’t ask me for wedding advice and I certainly don’t have an all-things-weddings blog. Heck, I’m not even a wedding planner. I’m a “no one” in the wedding biz, so who in the world would ever pick up my book and listen to what I have to say?

Most nonfiction writers are like I was a few years ago. They think that just because they have this great idea or a fabulous success story, people will want to listen. But think about it…

When we have money troubles, we look to Suze Orman or Dave Ramsey.

When we have health troubles, we look to Jillian Michaels or Dr. Oz.

When we have political confusion, we look to … Jon Stewart.

We will always pick the expert over the nobody. So how do you cross that divide? How do you become an expert?

Become a speaker, my friend. Become a speaker.

Speaking has gotten a bad rap lately because there’s not really any money in it anymore.

Amanda Luedeke is a literary agent with MacGregor Literary. She posts about growing your author platform every Thursday. You can follow her on Twitter @amandaluedeke or join her Facebook group to stay current with her wheelings and dealings as an agent.

When I first met Chip, I’d occasionally run a book idea by him just to see if anything sparked his interest. I remember at one point, I came up with this GREAT idea for a book all about making your wedding your own. It was about ditching tradition and going for something that reflected your uniqueness as a couple. But when I pitched this future bestseller to Chip, he kind of glazed over. He gave me a few pointers, patted me on the back and sent me on my way. And I couldn’t figure out why.

But now, years later, I know exactly what he was thinking: I’m not a wedding expert. People don’t ask me for wedding advice and I certainly don’t have an all-things-weddings blog. Heck, I’m not even a wedding planner. I’m a “no one” in the wedding biz, so who in the world would ever pick up my book and listen to what I have to say?

Most nonfiction writers are like I was a few years ago. They think that just because they have this great idea or a fabulous success story, people will want to listen. But think about it…

When we have money troubles, we look to Suze Orman or Dave Ramsey.

When we have health troubles, we look to Jillian Michaels or Dr. Oz.

When we have political confusion, we look to … Jon Stewart.

We will always pick the expert over the nobody. So how do you cross that divide? How do you become an expert?

Become a speaker, my friend. Become a speaker.

Speaking has gotten a bad rap lately because there’s not really any money in it anymore.

Clarice wrote to ask, "When is it appropriate to inquire on the status of a submission to an editor or agent? I sent something in to an agent four months ago, but have yet to hear."

Keep in mind that every agent has his or her own system. I try to get to submissions once a week, but sometimes I go three or four weeks between looking. And that's just for a quick look — if I like something, I have to read it through, and that means I could have it for a month or two before I can give the author a firm response. In my experience, most agents would like to have two or three months to consider a proposal before they render a "yes" or "no." During busy times (like Christmas, summer vacation, and stints at rehab), it may take longer. So if you sent a project to an agent four months ago, and she hasn't responded to you, it might be very appropriate just to drop a friendly note — something like, "Hello, I'm just checking back with you on that proposal I sent you a few months back. I was wondering if you've had a chance to look it over yet. I know you're busy, so thanks very much for giving it your consideration."

On a related note, Hank wrote to complain that an agent hadn't responded to his proposal in a year… but when I checked with Hank, he noted that he'd never met the agent, nor had he queried via email or letter. In other words, he had just sent in a proposal cold. And that leads me to ask,"Where is it written that an agent must respond to you just because you wrote to him or her?"

Answer: It isn't. An agent isn't obligated to respond to everyone who writes him or her. I've got a