To heck with the thrill of the chase. Chasing publishable manuscripts is less like a heady gallop over wooded hillside in sunny autumnal weather and more like wading neck-deep through fetid swampland while biting midges swarm your face. The chase sucks.
Finding something, though... ah, what joy.
I know I haven't been blogging much recently; instead I've been working very hard. I've seen the inside of my office both days this weekend. But I've been rewarded. This very afternoon I was working my way through a pile of manuscripts that other people (agents, my publishing director, the editorial assistant, etc) had decided I should read, and there it was. Something I want to acquire!
The gleeful disbelief. The attempts to quell my burgeoning optimism with skepticism and visions of the enormous piles of work already sucking my every waking moment away from me. I don't care; I want it, I want it!
Of course, now I must show it to other people at my publisher—people who may go, "Eh." And if so I will have to maintain a professional demeanor while inside I am thinking, "Who cares what you think?! It's mine, it's mine!"
And then I will have to talk to the author (who may have interest from other houses) without acting like a big baby. ("You can't sell this elsewhere, it's mine, it's mine!")
Deep breaths. Still, this glee. Machinations about the illustrator to match with this manuscript. More deep breaths. Must go read something to distract myself.