Looking eastward

I’m going to New York in a few weeks, in part to have a corned beef sandwich (one of the few foods SF doesn’t do well is deli, more’s the pity) and in part to see friends, but mostly to do some work-related schmoozing. It’s been more than two years since I was last there, and a lot has changed in publishing. So today I started the process of emailing various editors to find out if they can spare a little time to meet with me and tell me what they’re looking for.

I’m expecting that one editor for whom I do a good bit of work will be happy to have coffee with me. I’m hoping that another will squeeze me in even though I haven’t done anything for her in a very long time, because when we have worked together in the past, it’s gone really well. But I’m also planning to contact a few people I’ve never worked with, and that always makes me gulp hard a few times before I send off the email. At worst, they’ll ignore me. If they don’t want to meet with me, they can say no. They’re not going to send back some version of “What makes you think I’m going to waste any valuable time on you, puny creature?” Intellectually, I know this. I know I’ve been writing for a long time, and I know I’m damn good at it. But there’s still, always, a part of me that feels like I’m getting away with something and might get caught out at any moment.

I’m ignoring that part of me and composing my email. You don’t get if you don’t ask.

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