Fizzy Fangirling – An Interview with Peter Knapp

Hello, my dears! Today I am delighted to bring you an interview with the wondrous literary agent Peter Knapp of The Park Literary Group. I’m a huge fan of Peter for a variety of reasons. He’s a genuinely nice guy, sharp as all get-out, and one heck of an agent. Plus, like recent interviewee Bridget Smith, Peter is one of the fabulous agents attending this year’s Midwest Writer’s Workshop, and you don’t want to miss that for anything. For extra incentive, I’ll be doing a session with him at MWW, but I’ll let him fill you in on that below. *flails excitedly* And to solidify him as one of absolute favorites, when I asked him, as I do all people I interview, if he had any preferences against profanity in the potential GIFs for this post, his response was, “No limitations. Shock the world.” Seriously. New favorite. Kick back, grab a snack, and get to know Mr. Knapp! 1. Let’s start with the basics: How long have you been an agent, and what made you dive into this wacky business in the first place? I started at The Park Literary Group about three years ago as an assistant and began taking on clients a little over a year ago. Growing up, novels were just a part of my life—my mom is an English professor, and my two older brothers were always fighting over copies of books. You had to read fast at our house or else the younger of those two brothers would swoop in while you were sleeping, read a book overnight, and then accidentally (or not) spoil the whole thing. (“Did you get to the part where he dies?”) So I began my career working, actually, in a book scouting agency, where we looked for manuscripts that our...

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Conversing with Grapefruits

Hello my loves! All right. Gird yourselves. I’m angry. And I mean, shaking, profane, let’s take this outside angry. (By outside, I generally mean into private chat online. Because don’t really punch people, okay guys?) But, as angry as I am, I am going to be very careful. Because if I spout off with the feelings I’ve got racing through my brain, the people who need to read this blog just won’t. Fair warning, there could be some triggery definitions below. *deep breath* The state of Indiana had very tumultuous week. A federal judge struck down a gay marriage ban and for three days, same-sex couples all over the state raced to get hitched. By Friday, our states’ Attorney General filed an emergency motion effectively halting any further marriages. Having been born and raised in Indiana, my social media feeds were very vocal with opinions on what was happening in our fair state. Some people were furious at first, then thrilled. Some were elated at first, then devastated. I have my own opinions and feelings on the week, but I’m not here to give you opinions today. I’m here to give you facts. FACT: noun: something that truly exists or happens : something that has actual existence That was taken from Webster’s Dictionary. That is the definition of what a fact is. Still with me? Ace. During the hullabaloo in my state, there were arguments and rhetoric flying in all directions. I generally know enough to stay out of them. It’s like never reading the comments section on articles. You aren’t going to gain a damn thing doing it. But every once in awhile, I will get pulled into an innocent conversation that suddenly turns into sheer and utter nonsense. And every time I hate myself for falling for...

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Sparkly Green Wisdom

Hello my darlings! Do you remember at various times in your youth, someone older than you would espouse wisdom of what your later years would look like? Sometimes it would be a very old person, touting the knowledge of decades of experience. Sometimes it would be someone seven years older than you and you had to fight the very real desire to dump your strawberry milkshake in their bra. Wait…what were we talking about? No. Right. Wisdom. I’m a pretty open-minded person, so as people have dropped these nuggets of knowledge on me in my life, I always try accept them as the truth. But even still, it’s so hard to imagine how it will really apply to you. When I was a teen, and ever so slightly less open-minded about other people being right, I PSSSH’d my way out of those conversations with what I felt was my crystal clear vision of how life was. When people tell me those things now, I nod, too terrified to speak. Today is my birthday. I’m somehow turning thirty-three, although that seems like a miscount. I’m very okay with being thirty-three. I think. I mean, I have a little arthritis in my knees, and my right leg always aches when low pressure systems roll in, but other than that, I feel about eighteen on a good day. I have blue and pink hair! I’m not old! I don’t own any t-shirts that aren’t graphics based! I have more pairs of brightly colored Chucks than I do dress shoes! I AM NOT OLD YOU SHUT YER MOUTH YOU SHUT IT NOW. People have told me my whole life, “The older you get, the more confident you will be with yourself.” In high school, they told me that so I would stop crying...

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All in the Family

Hello my loves! Yesterday was a dramatic day for our little family. I was out shopping with my tots who are home on Summer Break when I noticed several missed calls from my mom. I’d been planning to drop some things off at her house and assumed she was checking to see when we’d arrive. Not so much. She explained, quite calmly, she had  fallen off her front porch and was lying in the bushes. Some background: Over the last four years or so, my mom now seventy-two-year-old mom has broken her leg twice. And I don’t mean like, aww, here’s a cute cast and crutches. I mean like, HOLY DAMN HOW COULD ANYONE SURVIVE SHATTERED BONES LIKE THIS OMG. Each time she has broken that poor leg, she ends up in a rehabilitation home for months after surgery to repair said shattered bones. Plus she has the weird clotty blood gene thing. So when she falls, PANIC. I tore across town, trying to relay to the children that Nana had fallen and we were going to go help her, all the while keeping that kind of creepy cheerful Mom voice and white-knuckling my steering wheel. We get to my parents’ house and there sits my dad on the front porch, and there’s my mom. In the friggin’ bushes. Thanks to her wonky leg, if she falls, it’s hard to get up. But yesterday we had the added treat of her having landed on her arm which we were pretty damn sure was broken. Also worth noting: My mom has a bit of an ambulance phobia, and was forbidding me from going all 911 on the situation. I called my sister-in-law who lives two blocks over to see if she could hang with my kids once I figured out...

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A Very Fizzy BEA

Hello my darlings! I know I’m late with the BEA wrap-up posts, but I took a very much needed week off after I crawled home from my latest venture to NYC. Now, people who are far better suited than I have done the official BEA round-ups and I will leave the technical aspects to them. Instead, I will share with you my favorite moments from this magical trip. 1. THAT SOUND YOU HEARD I can’t even describe how much awesome was crammed into Javits this year. Much awesome. Everyone was an absolute delight. I went in thinking I would grab no more than five ARCs to lug home and left with like 20. It seemed like everyone I’ve ever known had a signing and I HAD TO GO. Even still, I missed out on several which will haunt me always. I had the amazing experience of everyone I knew from Twitter actually being more awesome in real life. I regret deeply not being able to hang around longer with so many of those lovely folks, but I’m glad we at least got to have a flail, a sweaty hug, and squeals of glee. Speaking of glee squeals… If you were inside the beast of a building that is Javits, you at times might have heard a noise reminiscent of a cat being stepped on but somehow being really damn excited about it. That sound was me. And I’d just come across someone awesome. (See topic 1.) In case anyone I met doubted before, they are now quite certain, yes I do SQUEE in real life. Loudly.   2. THE LIGHTEST OF WEIGHTS I’m not a big drinker. Maybe twice a year I’ll have a drink at a conference or similar. So, when I do go have one, that’s usually it....

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