I sent out another 6 queries this afternoon. I'm up to 76 now. The last one I sent out at 3:18 and at 3:24 I had received an email back asking for the first 50 pages. Holding my breath? Maybe (mouths YES silently). The overanalyzer in me is obviously in hyperdrive.
Oh my god, she responded back like instantly! She's intrigued and doesn't know it yet but is totally going to fall in love with my book.
But how can I not be holding my breath?
I might subconsciously thrive on the drama. I mean, there's always a 50-50 chance when I click on the response email that this one time the agent is going to say YES. So my heart skips into a sprint and I suck in my breath and then I open the email and (except for 3 of the 76 queries that were maybe's) deflate in a big whoosh of air and hopes.
But regardless of the thrill of the rollercoaster ride that is finding a literary agent, I send this plea out into the universe.
Dear Ms. Agent,
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE give me a shot. I promise you won't be disappointed. And also, with the meterial that is constantly expanding in my head you'll have a client (i.e. moneymaker) for another thirteen years (at least). I'm just saying, I can be your mealticket. All I'm asking for is a chance.
Ok, now that I got that off my chest I can resume normalcy, although a rain dance (of the lit agent sort) might be in order for later.
Back to work.
xoxo
Stephanie
Good luck! :D
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