Back when I lived in the Tribeca nabe of Manhattan 10 years ago, I used to fantasize about having a reason to hob-knob at the elite City Hall restaurant on Duane Street, just one block from my apartment on Reade... Having a breakfast meeting there with my literary agent perhaps sounds more glamorous on paper than it actually was, but I couldn't help but walk in feeling a sentimental sense of accomplishment. Best of all, it was a fantastic, idea-filled, forward step in this long process to get my memoir with Liz D. past the draft stage and hopefully, into the hands of publishers, with the new year—which is suddenly right around the corner.
My days have been spent re-writing that damn pitch letter, completely overhauling chapters and trying to get a package ready. We're all but set to sign with an agent... and always saw that as the highest mountain to climb. Now comes the fun part: Sell this fat baby!