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You dream of writing a book.
In fact, even if you’ve previously written books, you dream of writing another one.
Two things are going through your mind right now:
- He’s reading my mind. That means magic is real. I can fly. I can fly! crash…thump
What’s wrong with me? (Yes, indeed, what is wrong with you? Who writes a book nowadays?)
Let’s be even more specific: you dream of writing a “traditionally published” book, the entire process from soup to nuts, including a literary agent.
And not just any agent. You want to get yourself The Agent, the brusque, Chanel-clad power agent who just hired a stunning-if-it-weren’t-for-those-glasses number 2 assistant recently arrived from Kalamazoo to pursue her dreams of literary stardom and sure, maybe she’s a klutz and spills coffee on a famous author’s manuscript that one time (“That was Stephen King’s original draft of Cujo 2: Off the Leash!, Jennifer—it’s irreplaceable!”), but her new gay friend’s gonna give her a rocking makeover, plus there’s this really cute guy she meets when they’re both reading Ulysses on the subway coincidentally (he just wants to be friends—doesn’t he?) and she’s going to be important enough to use a New York City car service (“Mom, I’m calling you from a car, and the driver is wearing a suit!”) someday soon because she spotted a bestseller on the slush pile that’s going to be made into a movie starring Shailene Woodley as the number 2 assistant of a Chanel-clad power agent recently arrived from Kalamazoo…
You know, traditional publishing.