In a rush to get through the mail, I noticed my own handwriting on a #10 envelope. Always a bad sign when you have material on submission.
So, determined not to let it distract me from E’s departure for California, and repeating to myself Liz Rosenberg’s comment about “collecting your no’s,” I thumbed open the SASE, glanced at the brief form letter inside, stuffed it under my arm and waved goodbye to E.
I admit I was a little pissed. I took a considerable amount of time with the query, seeing as the agent represents a very good Palestinian-American novelist whose work I admire. As I climbed the stairs back to the apartment, I decided just to recycle the letter, make a note of the rejection in my Excel spreadsheet, and forget about it. But still. I only sent the dang thing a week ago. It must have barely seen the light of office ceiling before the agent’s assistant stuffed a rejection into my SASE.
But before dumping everything into the recycle bag, I took one more look. I read the letter again, and my eyes still went to the last line: “…forgive the form letter, but the volume of inquiries we receive obliges us to respond in this manner.” OK, just like every other rejection I’ve received in the mail. But this is weird, I thought–why is there an address in the body of the letter? So, I read it from the top.
Dear writer,
Thank you for your interest. Please do send the first 50 pages, a copy of this letter, and a SASE to…
Oh. They want a partial. In my letter I believe I’ll write
Dear agent,
Thank you for your interest. Your generous request for a partial nearly ruined my day. Enclosed please find the requested material.
Warm regards,
An optimist by nature
A writer by trade
A pessimist by training.
