Friday was a momentous day. I finished the novel I’ve been working on and started the process of contacting agents.
Statistically speaking, the odds of getting this book taken on are low, but slightly higher than last time round. There’s not much I can do about the odds, except keep sending it out.
Having been through almost all the hoops before, it’s a strange feeling to start all over again with another book. I know the rules – I’ve even made up a few of my own. But more than just a knowledge of the system – I remember each agent, the ones that responded warmly, the ones that were helpful. The ones that didn’t bother to reply. The ones that left me feeling strangely guilty for sending them something that ‘sadly,’ they ‘had to pass’.
And this time round I’m not working under the misapprehension that you get your agent and that’s it. A blissful fairytale ending won’t automatically follow.
I had the agent, I had the dream publisher interested in my book. There were meetings where my work was discussed – it was on the list and under consideration. But the ending wasn’t happy – in the end my book was dropped, my agent and I went our separate ways.
But it’s not all gloom and doom – besides that feeling of having been there before, it feels good to be sending out my work. It’s a good novel – it’ll get some interest. There will be moments of joy when an agent asks to see more. I’ll try not to get too excited, but I’m going to savour them – because no matter how it turns out in the end, those moments are proof that you’re onto a good thing.
Even if the moment isn’t right for that book – there’ll be other books, other moments. One of them will work out.