I got it. Yesterday. In a chunk of mail I plunked on the counter. There it was peeking out - the big purple curly O, her name and address beneath it.
And for a second - okay, maybe even two seconds - my heart literally felt like it stopped. She wants my book, I thought.
Admit it - when you read the title and first line of this post you thought so, too. Even though all rationality would tell you otherwise. Even though my book isn't even out on store shelves yet. Even though I wrote her a beautiful, heart-wrenching letter why she should read and consider blurbing my book - and then never sent it.
It's the same irrationality that made my heart leap when the phone rang two seconds after sending a query... The agent wants my book!!
You know it can't be. And yet.... and yet....
The dream is still there. Even when you bury it under all that pessimism and cynicism and, face it, reality. Even so.... there is the dream. And this tiny piece of you that still believes it's possible.
The letter? An offer for a subscription to O magazine "at an unbelievably low price."
I'm keeping that form letter in a place I can see it when I write, to remind me... there is still a part of me that believes my wildest dreams can come true.