I finally heard from the agent. There was good news and bad news. First the bad news. She said, ‘No.’

I felt the bottom of my stomach drop down to somewhere south of my knees. I had a little argument with her email (but! but! but!). I sulked. I shed a few tears. I complained to my husband. I muttered rude things to Rex the Wonder Dog, who licked my hand and batted his eyelashes in a very sympathetic manner. I sulked some more.

The next day I reread her email, with feedback attached. First of all, it must be acknowledged that this was a momentous event: she gave feedback! She is the first agent to go beyond, ‘It doesn’t suit our list’. (Agent code for: I don’t like it. I’d already checked their lists and I knew mine would fit in quite nicely, so there.) She wrote a page of feedback, and some of it was actually pretty good. Of course there was also stuff that I didn’t want to hear. I took a few moments to have another little pity party, and then I reread her negative comments and thought, ‘Damn, she’s probably right.’ I then lit the candles on the pity party cake and had another sulk. When will I ever be good enough?

After a bit of melodramatic self-indulgence I regathered my couth, and wrote her an email thanking her for her honest feedback (which I really did appreciate) and for giving my ms her time and consideration. Then I mentioned that I am now working on a children’s book (age 10+) and asked if it would be okay with her if I sent it when it’s ready. (I figure it never hurts to ask.)

Here’s the next bit of good news. Within minutes she replied with, ‘Yes, more than happy!’ (Her exclamation mark.) She suggested I rewrite the one I sent her, to suit the children’s market instead. Woot! Why suggest that if I don’t have some potential? HEY?

So I’m back to tap, tap, tapping… Trying to get my hero out of the big pickle he’s in (about to be burnt at the stake) and safely back home. Then after a jolly good edit, a couple of readers to critique, and another rewrite, I’ll have another go at trying to catch an agent. I’m a stubborn old bag.