The Apple e-mail makes a very satisfactory schwoooosh noise when you hit SEND.
So. That's it then. Now I have to repeat to myself 500,000 times a day this is the first time it's gone out as a whole tweeked-to-bits manuscript. This is only one agent of many many agents in the world. If she doesn't like it, it is not the end of the world. It will only seem like it.
I've been working on this for about a year and a half I suppose. Now it's gone. There are draughty feelings already. I've already started researching the next one, and am looking forward to it, but op there's an e-mail in, excuse me.
Where was I?
First I need to get to the supermarket and buy food. We must eat fish, we haven't eaten fish for a week now. There's no juice, no fruit apart from a few manky satsumas. What's next in the fruit in season line? I need to clean the house which is getting all furry around the edges. I need to clear cupboards, drawers and garage for March car boot sale. Um, feel I need to do something fun with daughter, though she's looking after herself pretty well: off to Kingston, shopping with mates, making movies, going on MySpace and MSN etc. I also need to do some nourishing things for myself. I want to see Pan's Labyrinth before it leaves the cinemas. Maybe it's too late. This is after e-mail from friend S way back in December:
So, there's that. I'd love to have a day at a gallery but that still feels too luxurious when we're so paniced about income. While waiting for the next work work to arrive (if it ever does) I must get down to hunting out some more journalism commissions. And buy stockings. And update my sidebar thingy with all the lovely bloggers I met on Saturday.
I want to read novels again too.
It's at least five minutes now since I sent the MS and she hasn't replied yet. That means she hates it, it is a pile of cack, I knew it all along of course, didn't I tell you? Didn't I say?
Bye bye, thanks for visiting, come again soon.