I shouldn’t be asking. I know you’re really, really busy juggling commitments whilst navigating ever-deepening pools of slush. I know that and I’m sorry. It’s just. . .
See, you’ve had my manuscript for a while now and I keep wondering if maybe you forgot about it. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the heck out of you asking me for the full. I was thrilled to read your email telling me to send the thing. And when I nudged you at the three-month mark you were so gracious, responding right away, thanking me for my patience and assuring me that yes, my little novel was still under consideration and you hoped to know more soon–
But that was over a month ago. Which isn’t long in the agent/publishing world, I know, just as I know that, in your business, patience is not just a virtue, it’s a necessity. But when I saw your recent tweets about your wish list, and read you just sold Book X to Publisher Y, and saw you just published another fantastic book I couldn’t help but think my little manuscript ain’t super high on your priority list right now, which makes all kinds of sense considering how busy you are. . .
But I still want to send you an email:
Dear Awesome and Amazing X,
Forgive the intrusion but . . . did you read my manuscript yet and if you didn’t, do you know when you might? And if you did read the thing, are you still thinking about it? Do I still have a shot, can I keep hoping/dreaming/breathing or should I fling myself over the proverbial balcony right now, put myself out of my protracted misery right this very minute?
Of course, I won’t do that. I’m just being melodramatic. I certainly don’t want to sound needy and I don’t sure as heck don’t want to be a pest. Just tell me: Have you forsaken me, you guys? I can take it, I promise. Just tell me the truth.
On second thought–