Just as I feared, I had an e-mail from The Agent waiting behind the impenetrable server wall. However, as the Intrepid Auggy is enjoying rubbing in my face at the moment, it was not an error with the server, but an error with my router that was to blame.
Ah well, router has been soundly thrashed, and we go on.
The Agent just e-mailed to say that he'd be looking over my last round of revisions soon, and give me a brief overview of how he's going to handle submitting this to publishers. Whereupon I was struck with a very great terror (ok, we're watching Cyrano de Bergerac, so the language is getting a bit purple) when I realized that my "in the future" submission to publishers is nearly RIGHT FREAKING NOW! I'm not ready for this!
What if they don't like it? What if it doesn't sell? What if they post me on the Interwebz as an example of what NOT to do? What if The Agent finally realizes that he made a horrible, terrible, very bad mistake?
And of course, in the meantime, the reemergence of the Quarterly Project From Hell is sapping my will to do all things creative. Bleh.
Nevertheless, I shall soldier on! Or something.
And happy happy birthday to Gita, who is celebrating her Sweet 16 X 2!
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2 comments:
Thrashed router. Very good. Like imps, if you don't give them a sound whipping every so often, they get petulant and stop working.
Breathe in the paper bag, because The Agent knows what he's doing. that's why he's The Agent, and not The NightClerk.
16x2? Feh. Pup.
Thrashing router? This sounds like something out of a IT soft p0rn.
You will do FINE! You are brilliant, the Agent is not an idiot so far as I can tell, and the book is wonderful. And I brag about you to everyone, so you have to make it! Silly, silly girl.
I'll remember 16X2 in August when it's my turn. BTW: Just to gleefully remind us of how far we have come, (read old), the little brothers David and Tommy turn 18 and 13 respectively this year. We were all 18-19 when we met.
'Scuse me while I go add some arsenic to my tea. Yum, almond.
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