Carolyn was silent, and I almost felt betrayed that her enthusiasm didn’t match my own.

“We could go on vacation somewhere,” I said. “I don’t know, maybe Hawaii, or Paris, which Gene insists is beautiful.”

“That’d be wonderful,” Carolyn said. “I’ve never even been in a plane before.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“Wow,” I said, and in my mind I began recalling book advances for first-time writers I had researched over the years. Where would mine rank? When I first started, I would have given the book away if that meant seeing it on a shelf somewhere. But not anymore.

The thoughts of book signings and adoring fans and dollar signs swam in my head until I fell asleep, and in my dreams the fantasies continued. I kept waking up. When morning came I was still smiling. I had a whole day to get through before the package would even arrive.

4

My fantasies were short-lived. The package arrived at 1:47 P.M. They must have reviewed the materials immediately, because at 3:01, I received the following email.

Dear Author,

Thank you for your query.

I am afraid your project does not seem like one I can successfully represent at this time. My client list is quitefull, and I am only able to offer representation to projects about which I am wildly passionate.

Thank you for thinking of me, and best of luck in your search for representation.

Yours,

Simon James

Dear Author? Did they think so little of my work that they couldn’t be bothered to type in my name? I was in utter disbelief, and couldn’t believe the gall of these people.

Without thinking I hit the reply button, intending to write a long, impassioned email about all the things wrong with the process, about how writers who poured themselves into their work deserved far better than a form letter after their hopes had been bolstered by the personalized request, but in the end I decided a terse reply was more appropriate and typed, “Go fuck yourself” and hit SEND, knowing that I wasn’t doing myself any favors.

I left the library and walked home. Carolyn was in the shower. I took off my clothes and slid in beside her. The shower was so small that for both of us to fit, our bodies had to be pressed tightly together. And that’s what I wanted just then, to feel her body up against mine.

“They said no.”

“Already?”

“Already.”

“I’m really sorry,” she said. “But don’t worry, it’s their loss.”

I struggled to remain optimistic, and my confidence was gone, but I didn’t want Carolyn to know that.

“No worries, my dear. There are plenty more,” I said, which was true, but I wasn’t convinced any would respond differently.