4-Dec-2006

After a lovely weekend, I have a bad case of nerves for no reason today.  Just a feeling that something awful is about to happen.  Maybe it's because the office is so quiet, and I've delivered the outline revisions to Cliffhanger, so I'm not writing much on anything except the novel, which is a gigantic anxiety attack in and of itself.  Maybe it's the agent meeting I have later this week, and the fact that I'm not sure what I want to get out of it.  I mean, I know what I want to get out of it, I just don't know how to go about doing it.  Is it oh-so-Pollyanna of me to want to not have to tell white lies in order to get representation?  And I know the answer's yes, but I don't care.  At least it's free food, right, guys?  I have been meaning to get people's opinions on the subject, but the Designated Driver just says things like, "Melissa, you're such an awesome writer, they'd be lucky to have you," and Mom's all, "Honey, you're perfect just the way you are, and I'll write those agents a note if you want," and Cliffhanger's all, "What do you think a butt lollipop is?"   

Off to vomit...