dr_pretentious | Slightly Perplexing Good News From That Agent

Remember how, back in June, I had this weird, wonderful pitch session with an agent? Because

writersweekend had praised the manuscript so highly to her, the agent insisted that I should send my work, even after I told her my big project was too long and totally disassembled for revision, and that the project I thought I could write to the current constraints of the market was barely started. So before the Solstice, I mailed out three chapters of the ubernovel, along with a short story that gives the gist of a stand-alone prequel that's not even outlined yet.

Today I received a request for a full manuscript. Yes, a real live agent actually read my work, and, after reading it, still wanted to see more. Of course I did the dance of joy, scared my cat with my exuberance, etc., and then sat down to reread.

As far as I can figure out the odd counterpoint between the form letter and the brief, enthusiastic, handwritten note on the bottom of the form letter, it seems that the manuscript she requested is the one she knows--or knew in June--that I haven't really begun to write yet. That novel consists of the eight pages I sent her, plus some scrawly, telegraphic, bullet-point notes to myself.

I really, really hope she remembers my assiduous, repeated efforts at full disclosure, because it's considered Bad Form to pitch work as if it were finished when it's not. So now I have to take her up on her if-you-have-any-questions-contact-me invitation.

Something good is in danger of happening. I'm scared to death of fucking it up.