I called my agent, Al Longden, yesterday and left a message on his voicemail for him to call me.

So I looked at the clock today. 4:30. That makes it 6:30 in NY, right? Great, I think. I won’t hear anything until after the weekend. I glare at the phone, silently trying to use the force to make it ring.

It does.

Weird. But no way it’s my agent.

The caller ID flashes: Longden, A T.

My eyes widen. Huh? Stuff like that only happens in books . . . or lame movies.

I pick up the phone and hear a masculine voice.

Sure enough, it’s my agent. We spoke for about 15 minutes.

Conversation rundown:
He ran spellcheck and did some minor grammar edits.
He used some of my query, but tweaked a few things.
He sent my MS out in Oct.
He’s going into the city in two weeks and plans on dropping by the editors.
None of the ten editors have rejected my MS yet (he says that’s a good sign, because sometimes they’ll reject it after only the first 3 chapters).
He believes I have a 50/50 chance that one or more of these publishers will say yes.
If they all say no *cringe* then he plans on sending it out to another ten or so.
But we want one of these 10, because they’re bigger/give out bigger advances, etc. (and Amber needs a van)!

I’m trying really hard not to get excited until after I hear the magic word: YES!