Janet Reid

As you may know by now, my literary agent, Janet Reid, passed away in late April. Janet was my agent for 22 years, and her passing was a terrible shock. Over the course of two decades plus, nine published novels, one book on writing, numerous film options, a billion freelance contracts she generously reviewed for me, dozens of boozy nights at Old Town Bar in New York, and one raucous tandem appearance at the 2019 Writer’s Digest Annual Conference, Janet never failed to be hilarious, kind, witty, ruthless, and a cackling, delightful presence.

Janet was incredibly fun to work with. She relished deals, she loved talking shop, she was dedicated to her clients and rabid about defending our interests. For a while me and a few of her clients formed a kind of drinking club with Janet, meeting semi-regularly at Old Town to let Janet buy us drinks while we discussed book deals and industry gossip, and some of those nights almost killed me because we were all laughing so hard. It was almost a movie version of having a literary agent: Her main function was to give me contracts to sign, hand me checks to cash, and buy me drinks.

Janet had a great voice. It was soothing, professional, radio-ready. The phone would ring and I’d answer, and Janet would purr “Is this the genius author Jeff Somers?” Or I’d call her, and she pick up the phone and say “Jeff Somers is Fantastic Fan Club, How Can I Help You?” Knowing I’ll never hear that voice again is so startling I don’t know how to process the knowledge.

We joked about Golden Toilets. I don’t recall how it started, but at some point golden toilets became our code word for the immense wealth and success that surely waited just around the corner for me. Janet would send me a note about a reading opportunity or a freelance job, and she’s end with “It ain’t golden toilets, but it’s something!”

Janet was just part of the firmament. I might go weeks without speaking with her, then I’d send her a freelance contract to review and she’d respond with hilarious, snarky revisions. I just always knew she was out there, always happy to help, always happy to joke around and plot world literary domination. Janet Reid was a shark in all the best ways one can be — sharp-witted, fierce, her mind always in motion.

I’ll always treasure those 22 years. I doubt I’ll ever have as much fun as a professional writer again.