THE AGENT HAS LANDED

After a long weekend of waiting, a day and a half of voicemail, answering machines, and email messages, I finally won the game of phone tag with dream agent, only to be told, “Can I call you back in two minutes? I’m on the other line.” What’s two minutes when I’ve been obsessing for four days? Sure thing.

Two minutes later, the phone rings. She loves Crash Test, thinks I’m hilarious, wants to represent me. Terms like “agency agreement” and “career plan” have suddenly taken on completely new shades of meaning. We talk about the next project. We talk about which houses are best for my voice. We talk–and it hits me that, journal flirt or no, I. Am. A. Writer.

As Frank Barone would say, “Holy crap!!”

You know what this means, of course. I have to write another one.

As Frank Barone would say, “Holy crap!!”

Celebrated with two of my favorite things: pasta at Macaroni Grill and chewy SweeTarts. DH and the kids are excited. I’m excited. I’m emailing friends, loops, just about everyone this side of “This woman is getting completely obnoxious about this agent thing. Somebody dump the Gatorade on her already so we can get back to watching CSI:NY.”

I have an agent. Really.

Holy crap!!