Are you trying to kill me, publishing industry?
Today has been an odd day. After a period of extreme busyness helping to prepare my school's six competitive Destination Imagination teams for the regional tournament last Saturday, we've had a Sunday and two snow days during, which allowed me to watch Adele Nazeem sing "Let It Go" on the Oscars, (Seriously, Trovotlo? I thought you were a theater guy. How do you NOT know how to pronounce Idina Menzel?) and catch up on critiques for my writer buddies, who generously allowed me extensions because of DI.
I also tinkered a bit with a query letter to an agent and managed to resist mentioning our mutual love of wombats in the off chance that marsupials aren't the best foundation on which to begin a business relationship. The wombat-free message is sitting in my e-mail box right now, but I can't bring myself to press "send" yet. Because I'm a humongous chicken.