In case I haven’t mentioned it already, I was lucky enough to be signed by a literary agent a few months ago.  He’s based in New York and I met him through the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance.  I’m wildly excited to be one step closer to getting published (realizing that the remaining steps are still really, really wide strides), but am also a little frustrated about how long it is taking to move forward.  In explaining my frustrations to a friend the other night, I realized that having a literary agent is remarkably similar to starting a new relationship.  

These are the thoughts that are running in a constant loop in my brain:

• I’m thinking about him constantly.
• I’m dying to hear from him.
• I’m obsessively checking my messages and e-mails .
• He said he’d call.  He hasn’t called.  Why hasn’t he called?  Is he going to call?
• He called.  🙂  Happy, happy, joy, joy!
• He said he’d call again. 
• Did he say “I’ll call you later” or “I’ll talk to you later”?
• Should I call him?  Does that make me look needy?
• Is he seeing other writers?  Of course he is.  That’s his job.
• Are the other writers funnier than I am?  Smarter than I am?
• Has he lost interest in me already?
• I thought we had a real connection.  Was it all in my head?  Does he not like me as much as I thought he did?
• Should I check my messages again?
• Oh, God.  I am needy.

It’s really no wonder I haven’t been blogging lately.  Obsessively checking my e-mail and voice mails is really rather time consuming.