Today I met with an agent who represents literary fiction writers. It was pretty ridiculous. I've already forgotten her name! But she was cool, sharp, and chatty as hell. "How will I know when I'm ready for an agent?" I asked her. "When you have a polished manuscript ready" she replied. It's interesting - agents are all about getting "your work" "out there." She actually said, "I don't just want your work to end up in the right hands, but in everybody's hand." The literal implications of that sentence distracted me for about five minutes while she went on and on about the literary fiction publishing world. It's big. It's out there. And me, I'm an empty sardine can in a Russian Space Station...you know, floating.
And so yeah, sure, maybe eventually I'll be ready for an agent...but I'm nowhere near that now - even if I had a manuscript, I don't think I'd be quite man enough to try selling my work yet. I need more seasoning, more practice, more failed experiments, more growth! I'm closer to having something to say than ever before - and that's a very new, refreshing feeling. Meanwhile, Janelle made chili tonight and we've been listening to Horace Silver's "Song For My Father," which would make my Top Ten All-Time Favorite Songs To Eat Chili To.
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