Panic Mode

I look everywhere for my agent's cell phone number. Her office machine is telling me she will be out during the Thanksgiving holiday. I'm OK, we can wait until she returns. OK, under control, I found her cell number.

She's driving to Massachusetts with her boyfriend to have Thanksgiving with her family. I apolognize for the three frantic e-mails waiting for her when she returns and explain we can talk about this Monday...if she's already well on the road and it's too late to meet.

I start e-mailing my manuscript to family and friends who didn't even know I was writing a book asking anyone for advise. I relive the fateful meeting a dozen times. I analyze if should I return the first installment of the advance. Or do I start giving ultimatums to the editor and publisher? Do I suck it up and make a gift book, the best darn gift–book ever overlooked by the literary community?

I drive to my sister-in-laws where someone drops the turkey and spills oil starting a grease fire in the oven. This temporarily cheers me up.