... seeking representation. At the expansive cherry wood bar in the center of the establishment is a glow of light and force of energy that makes the beam on Lost look like a flashlight app for the iPhone.
The writer nearly loses his grip on the one hundred thousand word, rubber band wrapped stack of paper. The challenges of maintaining a marriage, family, friends and work added unseen weight to the bundle. Alleviating the burden was simple. Instead of taking a step forward, turn around and walk away. Return to the life he knows. Shelve the dreams once and for all.
No! He'd come this far. He secured the manuscript in his sweaty hands, and decided to expose his heart.
They were all seated at the bar, barely a spot left. Superstars all of them. He'd read their blogs, seen their names numerous times on acknowledgement pages in books he read. Janet Reid. Daniel Lazar. Molly Friedrich. Scott Miller. Nancy Yost. Stacia Decker. Aaron Priest. Liza Dawson. His mouth salivated as he continued to run down the list. They were the literary agents who could take his hard work to the next level. As if seeking a hung jury, he only needed one to believe in him.
He'd already pleaded his case to some of them. They in turn, had no clue as to who he was, having discarded his internet submission with little fanfare. It wasn't personal. They had busy lives too. He was not a quitter though.
He straightened his tie, took a deep breath and cradled his novel like holding his first born all over again. He then stepped toward the bar with a smile on his face, knowing it was only a matter of time.
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