How was it for you?

March.

Three chapters; check. Synopsis; check. Pre-addressed stamped envelope; check. Cover letter; check.

I slide them into the A4 neatly addressed envelope, and seal. At the post office I weigh it, pay, and the nice lady puts it into her sack.

I have a positive feeling about my ms this time. The nice post office lady smiled at me for a start (she never usually does), there were no queues (doubly unusual) and I found a two pound coin in my jean pocket. How many more signs do I need?

April.

Nothing but bills fall on the mat. Should I begin submitting again? Would the agent get to hear about my “multi submission” (they talk over coffee all the time, don’t they?) and subsequently toss my ms into the bin in annoyance?

Just in case I don’t submit to another agent and sit and wait. And wait.

May.

I wonder if they received it? Maybe that nice lady at the post office wasn’t so nice after all? Maybe the sack she put it in was mistaken for rubbish and thrown out? Maybe the postman didn’t read the address correctly and it’s gone astray?

June.

Neat enquiry letter; check. Stamped addressed envelope; check: I have very politely asked the agent if they've had enough time to consider my ms.

I slide it into the envelope and as there is no need to visit the post office for a standard letter, I pop on a first class stamp and drop it into the post box. Bugger, I think as the letter falls to the bottom of the post box, the agent will surely think I‘m take the piss and will definitely reject my proposal now. Why didn't I give it one more month?

Back home, I kick the cat, ground the kids for no particular reason and begin an argument with hubby.

July.

Shopping bags in both hands, another under my arm and one between my teeth I shoulder my way in through the front door and step on a familiar A4 envelope.

My heart plummets as I realise it’s a rejection (if it were an acceptance, why would an agent return my submission?). I kick the offending envelope across the hallway, and struggle into the kitchen with my shopping without realising I’ve been spilling milk from a faulty carton and it’s dripped up my path, on my carpets and probably even inside the the boot of my car! I drop the shopping on the kitchen floor, curse the milk, curse the supermarket and curse the agent.

I telephone hubby at work and off load my anger. He smartly lets me rant and comes home with wine and chocolate. He then spends the evening telling me the agent was an illiterate hack who wouldn’t know a good author if one punched him on the nose. Hmmm, that sounds like a good idea. But the bottle of wine has watered my emotion, and the chocolate sweetened it.

Three chapters; check. Synopsis; check. Pre-addressed stamped envelope; check. Cover letter; check…