Okay, in case you haven’t figured it out yet I’m not exactly a typical girl. Point in case: I hate shopping. It’s just no fun for me. I can never find anything that fits right. I hate the way I look in full length mirrors under florescent lights. I cringe at just about every price tag. I’m pretty much a sweat pants and t-shirt kind of girl. Yes, there are times when I like to look decent I just can’t ever figure out how to do that. If I were the type I’d hire a personal shopper like from the movie In Her Shoes. I need someone who can just look at me and figure out what will fit and look wonderful instinctively, because I certainly don’t have a clue.
Now I’m discovering I’d like a personal shopper for something else, too. Is there such a thing as an agent for agents? Think about it. I’d totally pay for someone to make sure my query letter was knock-your-socks-off incredible and to find exactly the right agent matches for my manuscript and personality. They’d prioritize who to query first and take care of everything. All you’d have to do is wait for the introduction phone call.
So, here I am, awesome manuscript pining away in my hard drive as I try to figure out how to tweak my query for the millionth time and which agent I should try to charm next.
It’s a good thing I’m happily married. I’ve never mastered the dating thing either. There’s a reason writers are usually wallflowers. I’m not sure I have the guts to keep asking agents to dance.
New plan. Maybe I’ll just keep writing books and bequeath them to my children when I die. Maybe they’ll take pity on me and find someone to publish them. It’s the least they can do for all the bowls of cold cereal I’ve lovingly served them over the years, right?
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