Successful Queries: Ayla Zuraw-Friedland, Jacqueline Young, and “It’s Hard to Be an Animal,” by Robert Isaacs

Welcome back to the Successful Queries series. In this installment, find a query letter from Robert Isaacs to his agent Ayla Zuraw-Friedland and from Zuraw-Friedland to editor Jacqueline Young for Isaacs' debut novel, It's Hard to Be an Animal.

Robert Isaacs has survived an eventful life. He has escaped an angry hippo in the Okavango Delta, dodged tear gas on the Mount of Olives, roasted marshmallows over cooling lava in the Guatemalan highlands, and been run over by a boat off the west coast of Australia.

In his youth he supported himself as a juggler and unicyclist on the streets of San Francisco before turning to music; over the course of 30 years he conducted everywhere from Carnegie Hall to the Cook Islands, released a dozen CDs, and earned a Grammy nomination. It’s Hard to Be an Animal is his first novel. 

It was genuinely fun to chat with you the other night at the Columbia Agents Mixer! And thanks for your reading/comp recommendations, especially Sigrid Nunez's The Friend... jeepers, what fabulous reviews and I can't wait to check it out.

As we discussed, my own book also circles around a dog. Here's the pitch, with sample pages per your request:

THE JERKS is an upmarket love story with magical realism, in which a wise dog helps a lonely human discover his voice. It may appeal to fans of Carl Hiaasen’s Squeeze Me, Eileen Garvin’s The Music of Bees, or Abbi Waxman’s The Bookish Life of Nina Hill.

Henry Parsons is walking through Central Park on a date, feeling hopeful for the first time in years, when a sweet little warbler tells him to f*** off.

A gentle soul, already troubled by the rancor and insensitivity of humans in the city, Henry tries to brush it off as a hallucination. But then it’s dogs mocking their owners, sparrows fat-shaming each other, police horses profiling: the man who never speaks up for himself is surrounded by animals who do. 

When he stumbles onto three rats discussing a corpse in the New York subway, he lets it slip to his friend Molly Bent. She’s keen to investigate, and Henry is desperate for another date with her. So he follows her into an abandoned tunnel under the West Fourth Street station, where they find a body... and the murderers almost find them.

For the first time in Henry’s careful life there’s no way to duck confrontation: he’s being hunted, and must find the courage to face his stalkers. Of course, that same assertiveness might transform his chances with Molly too. Inspiration arrives, unexpectedly, from two feuding betta fish and a neighbor’s yapping Pomeranian.

My writing has appeared in the New York Times, the Chicago Tribune, Salon.com, and other periodicals, along with stories in the current issue of Hindsight and an upcoming issue of The First Line. I earned my MFA at Columbia University with a dual thesis in fiction and nonfiction. In my checkered past I've also worked as a musician (Grammy nominated singer, conducted at Carnegie Hall, Royal Albert Hall, etc.) and street-performer (juggling, unicycling, plate-spinning, and so on.). I feel lucky and grateful for my varied life; it all finds a way into my writing eventually.

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The first time Robert pitched this book to me was at an in-person event at Columbia. I had just switched agencies, and I was still feeling out what I wanted my fiction list to look like at this new stage in my career. I was drawn to how simple and surprising the premise was. Simple, because who hasn’t looked at an animal and wondered what it was thinking; surprising, because who would have ever expected the answer to be “nothing good.” 

When Robert eventually sent me the full manuscript, I earmarked it for a rainy day because I could just sense what fun it would be to read. Apparently there was a drought, because it took a few more months for me to get to it. But when I did, it was like sinking into a warm bath. The characters were so different than any of the jaded, post-lockdown narrators that had been filling my inbox. It was earnest, thoughtful, and well-meaning, but somehow still managed to be funny and a little off center. It was, in other words, the kind of smart, genuine, quirky voice I’d been looking for in an era where it seemed that “intelligent” books were marked by certain narrative coldness or agnosticism that just wasn’t that fun to read.

I was heartbroken when Robert chose to go with another agent at first, but figured it served me right for taking so long to get to reading. When I said that I would be cheering Robert along from the sidelines, I really meant it! 

Later that fall, Robert circled back to me to ask for my hand in literary representation.  It honestly didn’t occur to me to do anything other than leap at the opportunity—I truly loved IT’S HARD TO BE AN ANIMAL (then titled THE WARBLER, I believe?) so much that I was just thrilled to have the characters back in my life. 

We went back and forth on edits for a few months, tightening and polishing, before I put the book on submission in May 2024. Jacqui responded so warmly to the manuscript, and the rest, as they say, is history!

Dear Jacqui,

I’m thrilled to be writing to you with the manuscript for IT’S HARD TO BE AN ANIMAL, a wonderful, charming debut novel that has completely changed the way that I look at every pigeon that crosses my path.

Henry Parsons is walking through Central Park on a date with Molly Bent, the quirky, sweet, and endlessly interesting woman that his colleague set him up with. After a long spell of loneliness, he is feeling hopeful for the first time in years when a sweet little warbler tells him to f*** off.

A gentle soul already troubled by the rancor and insensitivity of humans in the city, Henry tries to brush it off as a hallucination. But suddenly he can hear the voices everywhere: dogs mocking their owners, sparrows fat-shaming each other, snakes pontificating about misogyny and gender politics, police horses profiling attendees of a street fair: the man who never speaks up for himself is suddenly surrounded by animals who do. 

It’s all fun and games until he overhears three rats discussing a corpse in the New York subway. Unsure what to do, he lets it slip to Molly. She’s keen to investigate, and Henry is desperate for another date. Together they descend into an abandoned tunnel under the West Fourth Street station where they find a body... and the murderers find them.

For the first time in Henry’s careful life there’s no way to duck confrontation:  he’s being hunted, and must find the courage to face the Scottish gangsters stalking him across the city. Of course, that same assertiveness might transform his chances with Molly too. Inspiration arrives, unexpectedly, from his roommate’s pair of feuding beta fish on an enemies-to-lovers arc, and the neighbor’s yapping Pomeranian whose wisdom changes Henry forever.

IT'S HARD TO BE AN ANIMAL is an upmarket love story and cozy mystery with a strong thread of magical realism for readers of Carl Hiaasen’s SQUEEZE ME looking for a bit more tenderness, or of Shelby Van Pelt’s REMARKABLY BRIGHT CREATURES.

 Robert Isaacs’ writing has appeared in the New York Times, the Chicago Tribune, Salon.com, Hindsight and The First Line.  He earned his MFA in Creative Writing at Columbia University with a dual thesis in fiction and nonfiction.  In his checkered past he’s also worked as a musician (Grammy nominated singer, conducted at Carnegie Hall, Royal Albert Hall, etc.) and street-performer (juggling, unicycling, plate-spinning, and so on.).  

Thank you so much for taking time to consider! I have attached the manuscript here, and look forward to hearing your thoughts. Please do confirm receipt, and of course, do not hesitate to reach out with any questions. 

Best wishes,

Ayla

What immediately drew me to Ayla’s query for Robert’s project was the way it played with irony. I think we all have a certain expectation of how a sweet looking little bird might sound if it gained the ability to speak. I encourage you to Google a picture of a warbler and then imagine the shock of it aggressively cursing at you. Such unlikely verbalizations abounded in the pitch for IT’S HARD TO BE AN ANIMAL, just as they do in the book. Examples include “feuding beta fish on an enemies-to-lovers arc” and a yappy Pomeranian who offers an unlikely font of wisdom. I love to be surprised in fiction, so those details alone were enough to pull me in.   

At the same time, the pitch promised a book that would center more big-hearted elements beneath the unique façade. I knew from Ayla’s email that IT’S HARD TO BE AN ANIMAL would be a story with a real soul rather than a funny trick with little substance. The first indicators for me were hints of an opposites-attract romance between Henry “a gentle soul” troubled by the insensitivity of NYC and Molly who is “keen to investigate” the mystery that unfolds. I also got the sense that this would be a powerful story of coming into oneself, as Ayla wrote the “same assertiveness” that Henry learns from the animals has the power to transform his life and his chances with Molly.

Turns out I was right on all counts, as I found when I dove into the material. Robert has written an enormously humane, keenly observed story, full of comedic details that kept me chuckling through the last page. I feel very lucky to have worked with him and Ayla.

I’m grateful to have started the querying process in my 50s, after three decades of reasonable success in another career. I’m not sure my 20-year-old self could have withstood all the rejection. To quantify that: Over the course of a full year, 61 agents politely declined my queries—or never responded at all.   

So, before discussing the query that finally worked, let me share a personal rule that helped in managing my disappointment: Every time another Thank-You-But-Nope popped up in my inbox, I had to immediately hop out of my chair and tackle some long-procrastinated household task: Organize the kitchen junk drawer, sweep out the garage, cull and recycle old files, etc.  Redirecting all that negative energy into productive labor kept me from just sitting and stewing.  It also ensured that every rejection brought at least one small silver lining: Maybe I didn’t get an agent today, but hey—I’m going to bed with a tidy closet!

It wasn’t much. Still, it helped.

What I finally discovered, at the end of that difficult year, was that interest begets interest. At an agent meet-and-greet event, I met the hilarious (and perhaps slightly tipsy) Ayla Zuraw-Friedland and stammered out my pitch for a story about cussing animals. She seemed interested, so I sent a query. Two weeks later, she requested the full manuscript... and five months after that, she offered representation.

With a real prospect now in hand, I followed the internet’s advice and updated the various other agents who had never written back. I immediately got another full request—if someone else likes this, maybe I should check it out too!—and when the dust settled I had three offers of representation: One from a brand-new agent with no clients, one from Ayla (half a decade into her career), and one from a famous agent with her own firm who appears on every top 10 list.

Now I was in a quandary. I really, really clicked with Ayla during our phone call... but could I really say no to one of the biggest deal-makers in the industry?

I was swayed. I wrote a long, apologetic email to Ayla, and signed with the bigger name.

Over the next few months, it became gradually clear that my illustrious agent—and her junior colleague, who actually spent far more time on the manuscript—liked my concept only to the extent it might be reshaped to fit a prescribed genre: Is it a rom-com? A mystery? A magical realist tale? Pick a lane. Two or three rounds of revision brought us no closer to submission, and it felt like we’d never get there.

So I politely bowed out of that relationship and humbly returned to Ayla, hat in hand. She could so easily have brushed me off—“New phone, who dis?”—but responded instead with an instant graciousness that reminded me why I liked her so much in the first place. She hadn’t forgotten my manuscript, she was delighted to work together after all, genre-crossing is fun, and everyone lived happily ever after... including my characters Henry & Molly & Gracie, who found a home at last with the wonderful team at Hachette.

All this to say: Choices are hard, and sometimes you get stars in your eyes and walk through the wrong door. I could have saved eight months by trusting my gut in the first place. But I’m grateful to discover that the doors we close can sometimes be opened again.

___________________________________________

Ayla Zuraw-Friedland joined the Frances Goldin Literary Agency in 2022 after starting her agenting career at The David Black Agency in 2019. Previously, she worked as an editorial assistant and assistant editor at Beacon Press in Boston, and as a development editor for encyclopedias at Oxford University Press. She received her BA in English and Creative Writing from Connecticut College in 2015, and her writing can be found or is forthcoming in The Drift, Excerpts Magazine, GAY the Magazine, Publishers Weekly, and The Cape Cod Poetry Review.

She is interested in literary fiction and nonfiction that inspect big questions about queer identity, class, community, and art & technology through a personal lens. Please note that she does not represent Young Adult, Middle Grade, or Picture Books.

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Since joining GCP in 2019, I’ve worked on a wide range of nonfiction and fiction, from New York Times bestseller Play Nice to Indie Next pick Colton Gentry’s Third Act. Increasingly, I’ve gravitated towards contemporary book club fiction with a distinct voice, a sense of humor, and big-hearted themes. I’m also sucker for a quirky bent or a thought-provoking speculative edge. I’m particularly enthusiastic about projects centered on queer characters. 

My popular culture fanaticism lends itself to both sides of my list, as with Scheana Shay’s memoir My Good Side and Lovell Holder’s debut novel The Book of Luke, which each delve into the world of reality television. Across nonfiction and fiction, I’m also always drawn to a comedic sensibility and a singular point of view.