I got up from the table at the conference luncheon Saturday at 12:30 and went outside. I was anxious -- nervous, really, to the point of shaking out of my skin. I had nearly 40 minutes before my session with the editor at a New York publishing house and I wanted to calm down, clear my head and focus. I walked out to the hotel parking lot and got into the front seat of my car.
By 1, I had gone over my synopsis again. I had totally reworked it again the night before, staying up until 3 a.m. I was tired when I went to bed and it showed because, OH MY GOSH!, with only minutes to go before my meeting I found a misspelling in the FIRST PARAGRAPH, another one on the last page and a dropped word on the final page. I debated whether to use a black pen to correct them or hope she wouldn't notice. I opted for the black pen. It might appear unprofessional but it was better than having her think I was stupid.
So, as I was walking back into the hotel, I didn't think things could be worse except that I had developed gas after lunch and felt like the Hindenburg. It was difficult to contemplate feeling less comfortable going into an important meeting.
At exactly 1:09, I sat down with a very pleasant woman who had a firm handshake. There was little chit-chat. I had only 10 minutes.
Instead of having me give her a one-minute oral pitch, which I expected and had practiced over and over again in the mirror, she wanted the synopsis first. She read it straightaway and she was reading closely.
The editor gave a short, pleasant grunt at the point in the synopsis where I reveal a surprise. And there was a larger grunt near the very end when I reveal another surprise. She read it all. Every word.
She looked up and I quickly realized I wouldn't have to give the oral. My written words would have to do the work.
The good news came first.
She liked it. The story was interesting and the writing -- at least in the synopsis -- was good, she said. She liked the main characters and loved that I included good secondary characters. The plot had twists and turns and the synopsis was fun to read.
She didn't offer a single negative comment. Not one.
But there was bad news.
She edits general fiction but, in this case, general fiction doesn't include mysteries. Her parent company has a couple of major suspense/thriller writers but she wasn't looking for mysteries. She suggested I contact an editor in another division who might be interested in my novel.
Time was up. Just before I rose, she asked to keep the synopsis, I gave her my card and I took one of hers. With one final handshake, it was over.
I left a little sad that she didn't ask for the complete manuscript but overall I was actually pleased with the outcome. She liked it. She seemed to understand the story. And -- for the first time, I felt -- someone in the publishing industry gave thoughtful consideration to my novel.
It was over and I calmly left, returning to another room to hear another speaker at the writers conference I was attending. I had moved only slightly on the road to becoming a published novelist but my ego was intact.
And, thankfully, my situation-induced gas was gone.
After weeks of fighting back despair and feeling hopeless and discouraged at times, I knew I had been given a fair shake. I wrote her a "thank you" e-mail Saturday night. And today, I am back at work.
There is another novel to write.
Thanks for reading and don't ever, ever give up writing.
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