I'd breakdown the hours, minutes and seconds for you, but I already feel pathetic enough as it is. No need to share my lametude with the world.
Yes, lametude is a word. I said so.
I haven't heard anything back from Agent Chica yet, but I'm not surprised.
At least, the rational part of my brain isn't surprised. She's a busy woman, said it'd be a bit of a wait, and well, it's only been four days. Regardless of the fact that she emailed me less than 12 hours after submitting, to let me know that she'd downloaded my book to her handy-dandy e-reader, I shouldn't be impatient, she's doing me a solid by reading it at all.
Ha.
You know that rational part of my brain? Imagine that it's a small, twiggy tree in the path of an erupting volcano.
Paranoid Lava eats Rational Tree.
Which for some reason reminds me of Jurassic Park. "Dinosaurs eat man...Woman inherits the earth."
Best line of the whole film.
And so not the point that I had in mind when I sat down to write this blog.
Despite Agent Chica's awesomeness, I've been entertaining the idea of sending out query letters to agents while I wait for her response.
This is a Rational Tree plan.
I know it's the smart thing to do. After all, the more chances I put out there, the more likely I'll get a yes, right?
Sizzle, pop, pop, sizzle...
The more chances that I'll get a loud chorus of "Oh hell no!"s.
Plus, sending out queries requires research. I'm too busy hitting the refresh button on my email to do research, waiting for an answer that probably won't come until at least tomorrow, given the time differences.
I look at myself spiraling, and want to scream "Don't go to the coast! Head to high ground!" Unfortunately, the cries of the other villagers about to die are drowning me out.
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