(continued . . . )
Eventually agent NUMBER FOUR calls to inform me that he has reached the end of his contact list. He's approached all of the big time publishers and nobody has even heard of me. In fact, the publishers have not heard of Indiana either. But he's not giving up. He's going to pull out all of his stops and sell, sell, sell.
"You keep writing," he tells me. "Write something brilliant. Astounding."
I don't tell him that I have written articles about mattresses, men's cologne, or "Six Spectacular Ways to Keep Your Sex Life Sizzling". Nothing I've written has been astounding. If I could write that well, I would have written it when I was young and optimistic.
Weeks pass. Months. Eons. Occassionally I receive smoke signals.
Then one day it happens . . . in fact, it happened just a few weeks ago. It was a Friday in early March, 2009. And I was driving home. My cell phone jingles in my pocket and I answer. It's NUMBER FOUR.
(continued . . . )
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