Query panic

I did it. I fell head over heels for an agent, the only one I've found whose interests perfectly align with the themes of my series. For the last six days, I've sucked in my breath, gone through my query with a fine-toothed comb, and nitpicked the first twenty pages of my manuscript to within an inch of their lives. And as of noon today, after spending fifteen anxiety-ridden minutes with my finger hovering, immobile, over the "Send" button, the query is out.

So far, the last few hours have been accompanied by some of the most gut-wrenching nervousness I've experienced in years.

This only strengthens my in-the-works-for-weeks plan of spending my Friday morning at a theater, watching Crimson Peak. Guillermo del Toro's fine mastery of cinema (okay, Charlie Hunnam doesn't hurt) should be enough to distract me from going into a heart-racing panic every time my phone sends an e-mail alert. And if they aren't enough, then it doesn't bode well for the next six-to-eight weeks of waiting on whatever kind of response will eventually show up in my inbox.