Basic RGBFantasising about my heart’s desire, you know gazing doe-eyed at people on trains, in restaurants, in fact everywhere, was becoming a habit.  No, not searching for the love of my life you understand but for the other thing I so desperately needed…a literary agent!

It manifested itself in earnest at the airport. I was idly scanning rows of world-weary passengers, fiddling with clear plastic bags, when I noticed an attractive woman and found myself staring at her, and doing it again, wondering, just wondering. 

She was petite, with chopped unruly hair and tangerine lipstick. She wore Capri pants, a white vest, with a pearl grey – undeniably cashmere –cardigan, flung over tanned shoulders. She looked just like a literary agent I had seen, somewhere, sometime, I was sure of it.

Further proof – if proof were needed – her left arm rattled with ivory bangles and under her right, a bronze leather briefcase revealed one of those new reading gismos – see, told you I was right!

She reapplied lipstick, whilst reading the tablet-thingie avidly without glasses, and was almost certainly checking the Booker long list or something equally writerly and literary-like. I willed her to look up, so I could smile and engage her in conversation.

“You’re a literary agent, how fascinating,” I’d say, “You won’t believe this but I’ve just finished my first novel, of course I’ll send it to you. Shall we sit next to each other on the plane, I could give you an outline of the story…oh really, you’ve decided you’re not going to Dublin after all?”

Luckily for her, she didn’t look up.

Not many literary agents hiding behind trees in the Wicklow mountains

Unsurprisingly, I did not run into one literary agent all the time I was holed up in my writer’s garret, high in the Wicklow mountains, but I did read all the current reviews and made a good start on novel #2.

Back at the airport, I was a few pages into my newly purchased Sue Townsend, when she sat down beside me. No, not the one I’d scared off earlier, who with hindsight was probably only an Oscar-winning actress, but the real thing. Late fifties, soft, streaky hair, navy linen trousers, flowing jacket, dangly earrings. She whipped a notebook out of her bag and started making copious notes, never once looking up to see when we were to board – lost in another world, the world of the best-seller, translation rights and author signings.

As she headed towards the gate, I noticed she had forgotten her Brown Thomas carrier bag, I caught up with her, she thanked me.

I stammered. “Sorry but are you…?”

“Yes dear, I am.” She said in crystal-clear, accent-less English and turning away, was gone. I knew it, I’d seen her at the London Book Fair; she was not only a literary agent but a highly successful one at that!

Drat, drat, drat – I’d missed my chance, my one and only chance to become a published author. I was bereft, crestfallen, crushed…and then a thought, I’ll send her my novel anyway, it’s worth a shot, I’ll give it a go – as Churchill said, never, never, never, give up!

Still on the lookout...And I didn’t, and I won’t – the rest as they say, is history…and the beginning of another story.



Posted on March 18, 2013, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 14 Comments.

  1. Margaret Cullingford

    Love your fantasy, Ade, even though it’s a true story. You sure have the gift of story telling as anyone, like me, who’s read The Hollow Heart will vouch for.

  2. adrienneauthor

    Thanks Mags, and if I can return the compliment and say the same about Last Bite of the Cherry; after hearing more of your new one, another literary masterpiece is on it’s way.

  3. thenewromantics4

    Adrienne, how unlike you to miss a trick. Reminds me of the time we met ‘a certain agent’ on the train who leaned across the aisle and asked us if we were going to the RNA Summer Party? We didn’t pitch to her – dodging the sandwich cart being wheeled along the carriage seemed a tad unprofessional – and decided to do out ‘own thing’ instead. The result – the NR4 and four published novels. Sometimes, ploughing one’s own furrow is the only way to go. Mind you, If any agent wants to handle the foreign/film rights for Tall, Dark and Kilted I’ll give it serious thought. Great post and very YOU.

    • Margaret Cullingford

      Thanks, Adrienne for your comment and faith in my abilities. Would agree with Lizzie’s comment too re agent handling our foreign/film rights, though. Imagine you do too.

    • adrienneauthor

      Thanks Lizzie, and I too agree regarding foreign/film rights – you and I would insist on being there for the casting of both our heroes though…I’m sure of that! 🙂

  4. Love your style, Ade – and that tale, but just adore the pics. Were they both taken in Ireland? Where, exactly? Both magical.

  5. adrienneauthor

    Cheers June, the lonely lane is on the way to our house just outside Aughrim in County Wicklow, the one of me walking with the dogs is on the farm near Bruntingthorpe, just outside our offices, would you believe? The guy in the hat on the laptop – one of our many admirers of course! x

  6. Great post, Ade. I was right there, in the story, picturing it all. Love your descriptions – you write with such warmth & character. Lovely photos too 🙂 Xx

  7. Someone with your skill, personality and delightful charm will not fail 🙂 xx

  8. adrienneauthor

    Thank you Jan, I love airports, I always imagine I’m in a scene from ‘Love Actually’! Keep at your WIP I’m looking forward to it!

  9. Such an entertaining post. Look forward to reading more on this site 🙂

  10. A really enjoyable post, Adrienne – those paths we nearly took but didn’t quite get a foot in the door at the right time (mixed metaphors and cliches, I know!) I have a firm belief that everything works out in the best way for each of us … as I’m sure future ‘chapters’ of this story will reveal!

  11. adrienneauthor

    You are so right Joanna, as my granny used to say ‘if it’s for you, it won’t go by you’ – or was the Pearce Brosnan’s granny – same difference I’m sure!

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