I am hesitant to project this outwardly on you all…deeply nervous…but excited; so excited I could scream and dance and cry.
I received my first request, from an agent, for a full MS read. It took the agent an entire 5 minutes to e-mail me back. 5 minutes and a full…pick me up off the floor, please.
But, this post isn’t about that pre say, because–I as I titled this–it could change nothing at all and I don’t want to get ahead of myself with ambition. But the emotions…whoa…they deserve a post all of their own.
The first time an agent told me “thanks, but no thanks” that was hard–not bone crushing–but hard. Hard to read, hard to understand, hard to figure out what I said or did or didn’t say or didn’t do wrong–I’d obviously done something, but what? And instead of wallowing in the despair of rejection, I learned from it. I tightened up my query–did my homework, read blog postings and articles and practiced, practiced, practiced. So, to read now that I’ve somehow managed to be enough for a full MS read…it’s hopeful, and surprisingly, just has a hard.
When I queried, I sent out a lot. I felt like the door to door sales woman peddling my wears to busy housewives–some ignored me, some slammed the door, others were kind enough to say “thank you, but I’ll pass”. I was never discouraging. I’d simply highlight their name of my ever-growing list and move forward. Now…now I’ve been invited inside. I have the chance, a real honest-to-God chance, to sell this book. And there is so much fear and doubt and anxiety that hangs on this small, significant chance.
If this agent says no– she very well may say just that–it’s only about my book. It won’t be about my lack luster sum-it-up skills. It won’t be because I didn’t query the right agent. All of those excuses will be dashed, tired and worn thing–the only thing that remains hinged together and halting the flow will be…my book.
Scary right? Damn, scary.
Want to know what I did? I sent out the full MS. I did so with shaky fingers and so much doubt. I let go and let God–cliché right? But what choice did I have? None. She wanted it and this is what I do…I write, and I battle self uncertainty–one keystroke at a time. But really…it was really, really hard. As I turned the book into a Word.doc, I wished I’d done a hundred things differently. Wished I’d had an earlier date with an editor. Wished I had the time go over the book one last time. Wish, wish, wish, send….
I turned my mind off. Totally and completely. I grabbed my little white Chihuahua, turned on a rerun of Ghost Whisperer and took a nap. A short nap, but it was luxury. I rested and tuned out my inner monologue for a solid hour.
I don’t know if anything will come from this–maybe everything changes, or maybe nothing at all (I kept convincing myself of the latter, so if or when it comes to that I won’t be ruined for days). Either way, it’s another place this journey was meant to go, and that…is definitely worth celebrating.