She calls herself Putputt.
A fascinating young woman who lives in England, a million miles away and yet. . .
Yesterday, my little Putster posted some wonderful news on AbsoluteWrite: a literary agent loved her novel and wanted to talk to her. . .
Her excitement was palpable. I can only imagine how exhilarated she felt, how happy. What did she write?
WHY DOES SHE WANT TO MEET ME!!! Doesn’t she know writers are supposed to be all freaky and totally unsafe to be released unchaperoned in public?? Doesn’t she know I would drown her office in sweat?? AND GIGGLES?? Sweaty giggles??
In all seriousness, AHHHH. I don’t know what to do! I should reply, right? And I shouldn’t say “Holy fucksauce” in my reply, right? Oh, here comes the sweat.
I’m thrilled for her. She’s a wonderful person, so full of life and so sweet, so smart, such a good, good writer. Good things are waiting for her, I know it.
She calls herself Guinea.
An amazingly creative woman who writes of elves and double worlds and such. My dear, sweet Guinea breathes South African air, a world away from me and yet. . .
A couple of weeks ago I’d posted some news on my AW query thread: I’d sent a ballsy query to an editor, asked him to read my novel CHERRY, and he’d responded. . .
OMG! OMG! OMG! They’ve offered, haven’t they? OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
So funny!!! And no, no offer, but the editor did ask me to send the full ms, which I joyously did and then, a few days later, my dear, sweet Guinea told me HER news, to wit:
I have just had one of the most intimidating and exciting emails and phone calls of my life. . . this morning I got this email: Hello S–, C– has now left the agency, but having heard her speak about your novel it kept popping in to my mind. I know a long time has passed since we were last in touch but I have read the novel and have some thoughts. Perhaps we could speak on the phone? My number is below if you’d like to call the office. Best, H–
So dear Goose. Very, very exciting and terrifying month ahead of me!
Two women, standing on the cusp. . .