Is this really happening?

It finally happened. After sending my query letter and short sample to a long list of agents and receiving several polite yet disheartening rejections, I finally got a request from an agent to see the full manuscript. I remember it very clearly, rushing around the kitchen of the home I work at–daytime nanny, whoop whoop!–and hearing the familiar sound of Mario going down the pipe (not a drug reference) that indicates my phone has received a new email.

I’d glanced at it and groaned internally as I immediately recognized the agent’s name. I knew it was another rejection, and frankly, I didn’t have time for it. Between washing dishes and wiping counters and sweeping, I was way too busy to stress over one more thing.

I decided to get it over with. With complete resignation, I tapped the email on my screen, ready for the standard, form-letter rejection I was used to as my eyes scanned the screen.

I froze.

The email was short, two sentences asking me to send my full manuscript. She’d said, and I quote, “You had me laughing before I finished the prologue.” If you are a writer, you know the kind of joy that comes with hearing that your words made someone laugh. There is no equivalent, but that may just be my opinion.

I took a deep breath, walked out of the kitchen and into the office where my kids could not see me…and I danced. My hands were shaking with adrenaline as I reread the email over and over, hardly able to believe it was real. I texted my sister the news, and she was almost as excited as I was.

Lucky for me, I’d just finished a massive round of edits to my manuscript, so I was able to send her the full ms late that night. Granted, it was a Friday night–technically just after midnight on Saturday morning–so I didn’t expect to hear from her for several days. At least not until after the weekend. And even when she did read it, the chances of her liking it were so slim there was really no point in hoping.

And then I got the best email of my life. Sunday morning, soon after I’d returned home from church, I got a message from the agent. She’d spent all of Saturday reading my book and had just finished it. And she loved it–again, music to a writer’s ears. She wanted to set up a call to talk about it.

THE CALL.

Holy crap! Was this even real? In just two days I’d gone from expecting the same ol’ rejection to scheduling THE CALL, set to transpire in another two days. Those were the two longest days of my life. I was so nervous, terrified I was going to sound inept or say something so awful and stupid that I would completely turn this agent off.

I must have said something right though–not entirely sure what since that entire conversation is now a blur of nerves and excitement–because she sent me an official offer of representation later that day.

Two weeks later, I have a signed contract with Metamorphosis Literary Agency. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stopped and thought, Is this really happening to me?

I’ve never been the type to get my hopes up; there’s always so many things that could go wrong that the odds seem nearly impossible to me. And yet, somehow, I’ve gotten this far. Granted, the agent is only the first step in a very long process still yet to come. A lot could happen to thwart my hope and dream of getting this book published and sharing the story I created with the world.

But at least for this weekend, I’m going to let myself enjoy this and have some hope.

Not only did I write a book, but I wrote a book that an agent loves and thinks others will love just as much. This is huge. This is the start of everything I’ve wanted for the last several years. So yeah, I’m going to let myself say it.

This is real. This is happening.