The agent, JoAnn, and I got in touch earlier this morning. She's incredibly busy, but definitely willing to take a look at my material. She's looking for TV specs right now, so I listed what I have. She asked for an old Buffy spec, and I'm going to mail it out tomorrow, along with a list of my accomplishments & other spec scripts.

So of course, now I'm anxious that she's not going to find me up to snuff. That I'm not quite good enough for her to invest time & energy into my career.

My TV writer-friends are laughing at me. They know that I'm good enough for JoAnn to take me as a client. That's nice, but it doesn't do much to settle my stomach.

That's OK. I'm used to it. Well, familiar with it, anyway. I've been here before, and I'll be there again. It's like that big three-hour final at the end of your freshman semester. Remember those? You get up from the 3' x 3' desk (the one with the rock-hard chair that wobbles if you shift) and look at the clock. You're either afraid that you're done too soon and you're stupid or you're despairing that you're scrambling to finish and you're dumb. You hand the test in to the bored and impartial teaching assistant and hope that you at least pass the semester.