I Have An Agent!

And how doubts almost ruined that milestone.

Photo by Copper and Wild on Unsplash

After 56 queries, 38 negative replies, 18 positive replies (requests for pages or fulls), and two offers of representation, I have a literary agent!

I’m going to stop and repeat that because it’s a big deal.

I. Have. A. Literary. Agent!

I’m over the moon, absolutely thrilled, and still in a bit of shock. But I nearly poisoned that accomplishment and all those great feelings by giving in to insecurities.

After the giddiness of getting those two offers, doubts crept in. They went something like this: those two agents talked glowingly about my story, my prose, and my plotting, but suppose they were wrong?

What about those other agents who said, “No?” Those 54 who thought my manuscript wasn’t good enough versus the two who thought it was. Suppose the two were wrong, and the 54 were right?

See now, preparing for worst-case scenarios is my default defense mechanism. I don’t love it, but it’s part of who I am. Except all that constant preparation makes living in the moment impossible. It makes enjoying the moment impossible.

For about a day, I wallowed in those doubts, unnerved and afraid. It wasn’t fun. But then I sat myself down, took a deep breath, and like Cher in Moonstruck, slapped myself around and yelled, “Snap out of it!”

Those two agents were not fly-by-night scam artists. They were publishing industry professionals with agencies I’d carefully researched.

Eight years ago, when I started this novel, I knew little about publishing, querying or getting an agent. But I worked my butt off, wrote my butt off, learned what I needed to know, and for now, got the payoff I wanted.

I had no business downplaying that accomplishment because of my lame, knee-jerk doubts. I was not having it. I insisted I enjoy the win, and run with it.

I’ve been doing that ever since, and it feels good.