Have you ever read something so beautiful and moving that you couldn’t get it out of your head? I just finished reading When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead, because Nice Young Agent said in an interview it was one of his favorite books as a kid (approximately ten years ago by my calculations). This left me with three conflicting emotions: I should stop writing, because I will never write anything that wonderful, I should write a lot more, because then I might someday write something that wonderful, I would rather use my seven minutes with Nice Young Agent talking about this book than my own.*

*Which I am not going to do. I might, however, find a way to trap him in an elevator, offer him a plate of cookies, and talk about the book.

p.s., to Nice Young Agent. If, by some cruel trick of fate, you happen to read any of my posts I assure you that 1. They aren’t about you and 2. I am condescending to everyone.

So I’m looking at the obit page and wondering why some of the listings include photos that are clearly from high school graduation, even though the deceased was 86, and it hits me. What if nice young agent to whom I plan to bring cookies isn’t young at all? What if that’s his high school graduation pic and he’s actually 86? I’ll probably bring him cookies anyway. My mom still likes cookies and she’s 97.

Got a little nervous when I read an interview with the very nice young agent to whom I plan to bring cookies. He is seeking a rather esoteric list of YA novels: A thriller set inside a water balloon, a mystery loosely based on an episode of Gerald McBoing Boing*, and a Romance novel that turns the New School of Literary Criticism on its head. Ok, none of that’s true, but you get the idea. Anyway, I checked his agency’s website, and it seems that what they actually publish is pretty darn commercial. Ah, youth.

*Raise your hand if you remember Gerald McBoing Boing. Now, put your hand down young agent to whom I plan to bring cookies. Your mother probably doesn’t remember Gerald McBoing Boing.

That, despite my relatively advanced age (not in the Grandma Moses* sense), I could talk to one of two agents at my first conference, tossed a coin, and picked ‘Nice young guy agent with sweet face.’ Turns out ‘Nice young girl agent with sweet face’ works for an agency owned by a friend’s aunt. Undoubtedly a sign, though, if they both hate my writing, not a good one.

* Raise your hand if you know who Grandma Moses was. Hint: Her grandson was not found in a basket of reeds floating on the Nile.

I just read the bio of one of the agents I will meet at one of the three writers conferences I will attend in the next 6 weeks (Bravery? Masochism? Too much time on my hands?). He loves books with smart, quirky, young heroines and mysterious twists. Going by his photo he is also very young and very sweet. Makes me want to bring him a mug of coffee and a plate of cookies. If he doesn’t like my book, NO COOKIES.

Does it mean anything that the greatest number of views on my blog for the last month had the word ‘Crises’ or ‘Annoying’ in the heading? Perhaps I should go back to ‘Dominos’ and ‘Sexy.’

Going to be critiqued by an actual editor from an actual publishing house at an actual conference 10/25. Hoping at least to hear ‘salvageable.’ If I don’t, I will tell you my car broke down on the Dulles Toll Road and I never made it. I will take a selfie of me weeping copiously, nearly prostrate on the ground next to the driver’s side door. This will keep you from seeing that I’m parked in front of my house. The weeping will be genuine, though.

At least that is what I surmise from my recent extremely pleasant email exchange with my teacher/editor, which is an amazing thing, because generally email comes in two categories. 1. So cold and matter of fact that an insecure person* might interpret it as ‘annoyed.’ 2.Filled with exclamation points and smiley faces to make sure it doesn’t sound that way. But she is a writer so she has mastered the art of nuance!!!! Smiley face, smiley face, smiley face.

*meaning practically everybody

Friday I found myself wondering, “Am I the only one who will ever care about this story?” “Do people, especially my writing teacher and the nice lady organizing the writers conference, find me needy and annoying?” “Am I too old to wear logo t-shirts?” Then I realized it was just an upset stomach. I know…TMI

I made the brave decision to stop marketing NOW THIS! for awhile, due to a long delayed realization that I’m better at the ‘Show’ than ‘Biz’ aspect of my work,  and suddenly the queries/bookings started coming in. Alas, I doubt this technique works with agents. “Finally…a writer who has never queried or met us at a conference. Let’s sign her!” BTW, you may have noticed that ‘queries’ was misspelled in the original post. It was a ‘Damn you autocorrect’ moment. Trust me, I know how to spell queries.