What can YOU say in six sentences?
I've been querying my fingers off. Five months, forty-some-odd rejections. Okay, fourty-seven. Last night I dreamed literary agent Mary Kole knocked on my door and wanted to talk about my submission, that she first needed to take a look around, see how I lived. That in order for her to offer a contract she expected an organized kitchen pantry. I scurried ahead of her, kicking clutter under furniture and swiping at dusty surfaces, all the while failing to convince her that by some gross oversight the contractor had forgotten to include a pantry in the floor plan of my house.