OK, the deal is that a couple of weeks ago the agent who had my full e-mailed me to tell me how much she loved it, though she thought it needed some revising. Woohoo, I said, and said no problem about revising. She was then supposed to call me in a few days. And didn't. So I freaked out, of course. Had she changed her mind? Been hit by a bus? Been kidnapped by al-Qaeda? I was loathe to check with her, not wanting her to think I was one of those "whiny writers" that we know all agents dislike. Thus, the true story I was in the middle of, not knowing whether it would end with me crying at this lost chance or laughing at my freaking out.
So I'm laughing. (Not really. But I'm not crying.) Because she called. Whew!
Now, I have not got an offer of representation here. But we had a great chat, and the revisions we talked about don't seem too onerous. Mostly trimming and shuffling about. Once that's done -- then she'll make up her mind about representing me. Hey, I couldn't ask for more. (Well, I could. But won't.)
More important, she understands my book, is clearly a great person, works for a real agency that's sold tons of mysteries and thrillers and such. So. Good news, for once. I'd be in hog heaven if I had a signed agreement in hand, but this is pretty good after so much dreary news and I'm taking it and running with it.