Sit at the computer. Open new e-mail:
Lean head on the back of the seat. Inhale a deep breath. Okay. Then open up synopsis. Read through it.
Stare. Stare. Set it aside. Browse Facebook, and Twitter. Check out out some blogs. Watch the clock inch closer to noon.
Heart thrums a brisk pizzicato. Feel the pulse thumping between the ears.
Turn back to the synopsis. Tweak it a bit. Then a bit more. Turn to the query. Tweak it. A little more now.
Hit print. Printer jams. Husband hears cries, and enters--fixes printer. Feel the the pressure to make it.
So the husband: “Sit. Don’t move.”
He returns, leans on the doorway: “I couldn’t find the number for the one close by, but the other one said all of them should be open until three.”
Well then. Set everything aside. Decide: breakfast. Yes, breakfast. Eat. Take a shower. It’s cold: put on a sweater.
Then, finally, sit down at the computer. Finish printing. Prepare two envelopes—one with a query and a synopsis, another with just a query. Both with a SASE.
Long sigh. Slip on shoes. Throw envelopes into husband’s car. Drive to the post office.
But the sign says: Saturday 7-2
Pick up the phone. Don’t cry. Just: “It seems like a sign to me.”
“The other one is still open,” he says. Hear his sigh. Feel the shrug on the other end of the phone.
Drive back home. Drive past the house. Keep going. And going. Get a little lost in the unfamiliar town. Don’t push it. Don’t panic. Look for signs.
Stop at red light. Stare upwards. Signs. Signs. Please, signs.
Find the other post office. Sign says: Saturday 7-3
Clock says: 3:03
On the drive home, think: It’s not ready.
Think: It’ll never be ready.
Confidence? It’s an illusion.
Do it anyway? But the signs.
Internal dialogue: How easy to think that which was once beautiful is now unworthy. But maybe you simply deluded yourself to begin with finding beauty where there was none. But maybe you’re just a fraidy cat. Maybe the only ones telling the truth are the ones who don’t like it. Maybe the only ones telling the truth are the ones who do. Maybe you can’t please everybody. Maybe you should just
It’s hot—take off the sweater. Open up the manuscript. Read the first page. Close the manuscript. Compose e-mail: Dear Agent
Lean head back on the seat.