Interest!

Yes, that's correct - an agent (or rather, a reader for, and representing an agent) is interested in viewing the first 50 pages of my manuscript. As Mrs. Bennett would say, I am extremely diverted! Actually, I am very excited, hopeful, leery, optimistic, doubtful, and hungry at the same time. Still, the fact that the very idea of my manuscript has generated even the slightest of interest (and an email form letter could very well be described as the slightest of interest) is exactly what I would have wished (again, a Jane Austen-ism). So off it goes, my manila envelope containing pages and pages of hard work and lofty dreams (okay, without Lady Jane, I might as well stop).

I'm excited!

3 Things That Really Chap My Hide

1. Salesmen who inform you of hidden costs only after you have picked out a cool new cell phone to replace your old ugly one. Last weekend at the Legends, I was informed by a slightly too-elderly-to-be-selling-cell-phones gentleman that in addition to paying for the phone I had just picked out, I would also need to pay an $18 processing fee to update my account. $18 dollars to spend $124 dollars on a phone that was advertised as $49.99. So, in essence, I am expected to pay $18 so that I can then spend $124 dollars on a phone that is apparently only worth about $50. Is that so?

2. It doesn't matter what #2 is, I'm talking about an establishment that expects customers to pay in order to pay, to spend money in order to spend money. What business can possibly stay afloat with tactics like these? I mean, what is a processing fee supposed to cover? The old man behind the counter punches a few keys and for that I'm supposed to pay $18? Or is there some kind of Cingular/AT&T monkey that must be fed a constant stream of organic bananas to keep him pushing the "processing button?" Is there a trainer involved? Am I buying his lunch too? Androids? Small children? Who is doing this "processing," if not the computer itself which, I'm sorry, but does not deserve a tip for doing its job. It's a computer! There is no such thing as "processing expenses," therefore there is no such thing as a processing fee, and therefore I refuse to pay it.

3. Did this guy really expect me to spend $124 on a $50 phone, after paying him an $18 processing fee for an account that costs me nearly $100 dollars a month to maintain? The sense of self-importance that I was counting on with the purchase of a brand new sleek and silver LG Shine can wait! I will not be taken advantage of by these thieving wireless companies with their Kung Fu grip on the ego of society. I don't care. Though I must use it in secret, or hide it behind a cardboard cut-out of a Blackberry, I will continue to use my old, ugly, hideously uncool black flip phone until the insanity has ceased. I will not monetarily contribute to the idea that this is okay. I am not spending more than a phone is worth, I am not mailing in a rebate, and I am not - I repeat, am not paying a processing fee! Until we all say it, I won't get a cool new phone. Back me up America! I need an LG Shine! Make it happen.

A Word About Agent Queries

In a word, they're frustrating. Be original without being cute, be confident without being cocky, condense the last two years of toiling over a hot laptop into a single paragraph and yet still convey just how brilliant and original your work really is. Impossible. Even with only 31 queries under my belt, I have come to the realization that the little extras you put in there, the catchy first sentence, the references to stuff you found on their website to prove that you've actually been to their website, it all does very little, if anything to increase your chances of capturing their attention. Your work alone must do it, and do it in 4-5 sentences. 46,600 words in 60. Impossible. Well, I'm sick of it. I've decided to cut right to the point. No cheeky little openings, no material-related statistics, just the facts. Here's what I got, here's what it's about, here's who I am, how to contact me, thank you good night. If they like it, they like it, and if they don't (a much more plausible scenario), then hang it all I tried. I put myself out there, even though I am continuous and relentlessly, and sometimes even rudely, rejected. I'll not belabor my plea, which in essence is what a query truly is: a very serious, properly formatted, well-constructed beggar's beg to be singled out among the rest of the masses. Desire without desperation, a plea without pleading. A question without any hope of a favorable answer. Like asking your dad for a new bike when you know, oh you just know good and well, that you're getting your brother's old used up one. You just know it.