I have officially sent inquiries off to the slush piles of three agents. 3!
This sounds like a simple statement, but I had to get on my knees and and offer my veins to the sky just to get three emails sent. Tedious details:
- The first one needed resending since I got a server error the first time. I’m not sure if the error was a real error or an erroneous one, although it was probably legit because they’re in NY and I sent it after the hurricane. (Yes, in retrospect this does seem rather self-centered. What was I thinking?) Anyhow, I put a sheepish look on my face and bit my knuckle while I sent it again, hoping they would be able to sense my contrition.
- The second one seems to have gone off without a hitch. This worries me.
- The third one requested a synopsis, an author’s bio, the first 3 chapters, and the query. It’s refreshing that this agent actually wants to see my writing. On the other hand, my bio is a joke and writing that synopsis was hell. Synopsis = slow torture via intravenous drip. Of course my yahoo went all wonky so I had to open a gmail account. It took two full days to complete this task. I yelled at my kids, forgot to cook dinner, and ignored my husband, but it’s done.
Meanwhile, there’s a short story tickling the back of my hand. It kept me awake last night, rolling out ahead of me like an empty stretch of road. Road trip! I can see the characters, I’ve given them names. They’re sitting in the car outside my front door, smoking clove cigarettes and applying red lipstick in the rearview, revving their engine, but they’ll just have to wait.
The further I go into this process, the less confident I feel. This process is a soul-sucker. There is nothing fun about it.
But I’ll just keep my eyes on the horizon: 3 down, 26 to go, and then I can fall back into my writing chair and fill myself up again.