Put my ms through the grist, as promised. It went from 191K to 133K.
191 to 133. That's almost a third. Give me loving.
So I sent it off to a real live agent yesterday. An actual, breathing, literary professional has my book on their desk. Ok, not my book but what is probably a decent query letter and a synopsis that took me 12 hours to get right, and the first 10 pages of the book.
I got a confirmation email from her office. Just seeing it made me nearly throw up over my keyboard. I feel like I look outwardly pretty calm, though. Not sure why this makes me as emotional as it does.
Freud says: You don't emotionally invest yourself in much. You're not used to doing your actual real best at something you care about and having other people who know more than you evaluate you. Also, that is legit really hard and you are doing great and I commend you, widdle flower.
Anyway, I'm celebrating by applying for a satirist position for a political magazine (ha ha!) Let's pour some more gas on the fire. And, because I already said it was on multiple submission, I guess I should send the book to a second agent. Hell, let's do so tonight. Even though I can already feel the stress rising in my guts as I type this. Why feel anything if you're just going to let it control you?