Cloudya

Brain: Hey! Let’s have a drink! We deserve a drink.

Me: Um, I don’t know. Two years sober and all…

Brain: Yeah but come on. One measly little drink? After the day, nay, the YEAR we’ve had?

Me: Hmmm…

Brain: I mean come on. You’re done for the day. You did a fantastic job pitching your book. You’re child-free…

Bartender: What’ll it be?

Me: Cranberry and soda please.

Brain: Where did I lose you?

Me: You mentioned the kid.

Brain: Oh.

Me: Yep.

This morning I walked into a room with 3 literary agents sitting at a table. Except their backs were turned. They were all facing the wall. I had 30 seconds to pitch my book to the backs of their heads. If at any point one of the agents was interested, they’d raise their hand and I would then leave my synopsis and 1st 3 pages on the table for them to collect after I walked out.

It was weird man.

I got 2 sentences in before a hand went up. A HAND WENT UP! So I left them my little bundle, suppressed the urge to pat their nicely shaped heads, and left.

That was session number 1.

Session 2 was a 10 minute meeting with an agent of my choosing (not one of the disembodied heads from the 1st session.) This pitch session was face to face, and at the end I was handed a business card and asked to send in my first chapter.

Success!

And now I sit back and metabolize all this adrenaline I’ve got running through my body.

It was a good morning.

I met a man who told me he believes we are born with a set number of heartbeats. So he doesn’t exercise. He doesn’t want to waste his heartbeats running around the block.

I met an almost toothless man who recommended a place for lunch. The place turned out to be awful. Just awful. I feel like I should have seen that one coming.

I met a woman who asked me what kind of stories I write. I drew a blank on the word I needed. Surreal. Surreal was the word I was looking for. (Yeah. Words. I write them.)

I met a man who was born in France before World War II. He wanted to tell me his life story but his daughter wouldn’t let him.

This was my afternoon. I was alone. But I was never lonely. The conference starts tomorrow so I’m going back to my hotel now to sit in the courtyard and write.

Surreal stuff. I write the surreal.

Her: Your money will go farther in Buffalo. You’ll see. When we lived in Delaware we had an actual house. With a pool and a hot tub. On land! Here we live in a 1 bedroom apartment.

Me: Why did you leave?

H: My husband.

M: That’s why I’m leaving.

H: That’s why we all leave, us women.

The agent who read the first 10 pages of my book for my manuscript consultation today wants me to email him the rest of it. Exclamation point!! Even though I was in idiot mode the entire time and said things like, “I google imaged you beforehand” and “I’m very shy, is that coming across?”

God. I am an idiot.

But hey, an idiot with a decent first chapter, right?

I know I’m not likely to get a book deal out of this. But it’s something. It’s the first literary agent to ask to see my book.

Yay!