It’s a speed mountain!
Now that all the wedding stuff and feel good stuff is over, I can get back to my normal programming. Of course, this means that I’m going to bitch whine discuss writing and it’s pitfalls.
Last month, as some of you may know, I submitted my manuscript Succubus-in-Waiting to several agents. Within three hours of submitting, one of the agents contacted me and wanted the full. I sent it to her three days later and four days after that she wanted to represent me. I was over. The. Moon. Some little adjustments, a few more submissions to her, and we had a verbal agreement. I e-mailed all the other agents I’d queried and told them I was accepting representation elsewhere. Which, from what I understand, is the correct and polite thing to do so they don’t waste time on my stuff.
She sent queries out to ten editors. Six wanted the full and she was waiting to hear from the others. Hello? I wasn’t over the moon anymore, I was in the next galaxy. A month rolled by and I started freaking out. What if she hated it? What if she changed her mind? What if she didn’t know how to tell me no one wanted it? I e-mailed her twice with changes, but didn’t hear back from her. I prayed.
Yesterday I heard back from her, but it wasn’t news I was glad to get. She was no longer with the agency. She apologized, gave me a name of another agent with the same organization if I wanted to stay with them. She gave me a list of the editors she’d sent queries and manuscripts out to and wished me luck. I was stunned. I think I stared at the computer screen reading the e-mail three or four times. How could this be? What do I do now? I was in flat out shock.
I remained in shock the rest of the day, my stomach churning and nausea rising. I just couldn’t believe it. I’d stupidly pinned all my hopes on this verbal agreement and had nothing to show for it. I’d missed out on setting up agent/editor appointments at Nationals and working on a pitch because…I had an agent already. Duh. Now I’m in limbo.
When I went home and broke the news to my mother, she was livid. Naturally, her first instinct is to protect me (cause I’m sweet and adorable). Her upset actually helped me think things through. Is there anything better than someone you love defending you to the bitter end, even if they’re spouting conspiracy theories? No, not really. But she made me realize that this isn’t the end. My work is with six editors. SIX editors with big publishing houses. This is a good thing. It would be even better if someone wanted it. I keep a constant prayer in my head rotating hourly and sometimes more frequently than that.
I’m in wait and see mode right now. I need to see if the new agent is going to pick me up or not and if she isn’t, I have to start the whole querying process again. This is fine. I’m not crying my eyes out over this mess, not thinking it’s the end of the world because it isn’t. Sure, it isn’t quite a speed bump, but maybe this was meant to happen so I could truly appreciate my agent when I get him/her. Maybe this is a lesson for me to learn so I can understand that writing is a gift, not a right.