On the Eve of My Deflowering

It’s been three years since I started writing the book. Surprisingly, I haven’t gotten sick of it yet, as that is often my M.O. I will start a project, get obsessed with it, and then drop it like it’s hot and move on.

I’ve written, I’ve edited, I’ve slashed some 11,000 words out of the final manuscript, and still want to find another 21,000 to blow away. I’ve had others read a few chapters and told them to be brutally honest and wonder if they’re just being polite. I re-read the book and think “Man, I am really on to something here.

Then on other days I re-read it and think “This is shit, do I really want to go on with this?” But I think what’s kept me going on this project is knowing how I’d feel if I stopped. I just spent 3 years of my life writing it. I’ve just spent 3 years of my life talking about it. I can’t just dump it, right?

I haven’t gotten burnt out yet. Instead I am moving to the next level. I learned about a local writing conference—well, if you count a 2 hour drive as local—and signed up for it. Then I found an old high school friend on facebook who is also writing a book. The conference is local to her as well, so we’re meeting there.  I haven't seen her in years.

Then the weeks went by. I signed up for an appointment to meet a literary agent at the conference. I submitted my first page for critique, and then promptly re-wrote it. I’ve never met an agent before; I’ve never had my pages critiqued before. And I am scared shitless. I am also excited to get feed back.

But I really wonder which voice in my head will be validated. Will it be the “You’re really on to something here” voice or the “This is shit” voice. I know it’s just one agent. And I know that I am supposed to get rejected by something like 4,397 agents and publishers before the book gets sold. I am at the very beginning of this part of the path to publication.

I have a few more things to do to prepare for Saturday. I need to assemble a packet with my synopsis, bio, and first 50 pages. Most of it is written, but I’d like to format them so they’re all nicey nice. Then I’ll go to Todd’s office on Friday after work and use his bitchen color printer so they look flawless. Should I get nicer paper?

I ordered business cards with the name of the book on them with a paragraph synopsis on the back, and I’ve been checking Fedex tracking all day long so I know precisely when they arrive at my house.

I just bought green folders from Staples in which to assemble this packet, a cute pen and a little notebook to put in my bag. Green is my favorite color, and I think it’ll bring me luck.

I need to Google the agent and compile research on him in just the right way so I don’t appear stalkerish, yet informed about what he’s sold and what he likes. I could do it at work, but my Internet access is so restricted there that I won’t find much. I could do it at home, but our printer doesn’t work.

I need to find that black tote bag I bought from the Gap Outlet when I used to commute on the train to work. It’s a stylish yet functional bag that will look more professional than my lime green backpack I tote around every day.

But most importantly, I need to not do that thing where I talk a lot and say something incredibly stupid on Saturday at 10:10 AM.