I am about to embark on a 16-hour overnight journey with my husband and two children. And, of course, I am all stressed out. I've spent hours on the Continental website trying to sort out the seating, hoping that we might have a little extra room for my kids to stretch out and get some sleep (I have already accepted that I will get no sleep at all). At the moment, my kids and I are in one row -- 14 A, B and C. And my husband is in14 F, same row but by the window, separated from us by two strangers. I've already explained to him that we will be playing Rock-Paper-Scissors to see who gets to ride in the quiet seat.
It is no surprise that last night I dreamt about flying. And agents (because I have those kinds of dreams all the time). I dreamt that I won with Rock and was sitting quietly by the window while my husband dealt with Goldfish crackers and coloring books. And who sat down next to me? Janet Reid. And I was too terrified to say a word. I spent the entire trip debating whether I should volunteer that I wrote a book, because I didn't want to be one of those people. She was so cool that I didn't want to come across as uncool.
But Janet was REALLY nice. And very funny, just as you would expect. She drank a lot of gin. And shared my kids' goldfish crackers.
I woke up before I decided whether to mention my book or not. And now, in the waking world, I am kicking myself for missing an opportunity.
This just proves how blurred the line between imagination and reality can get for writers.
And what about you? Do you dream about your book? About agents?