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.