So I slaved over this article for months, made it nearly letter-perfect, and sent it off to the New York times for publication in their Modern Love section. I mean, of course they were going to publish it – I gave my life to that article, I finished it despite all odds! With an intervening trip to South America and a change of jobs and the publication of my novel and a breakup, and the fact that I had to write more drafts than I’ve ever written of anything before - and besides – I’m a famous author now! They will all leap out of their chairs when they see it and dance around for joy! Finally, finally, the author of BreakupBabe has sent us an article! Break out the champagne - our useless rag is SAVED!

Now it’s been nearly two whole weeks and I haven’t heard a word.

HMMPH. I am a writer, I’m used to rejection. Two weeks isn’t that long. Maybe there’s still hope. But they were supposed to get back to me IMMEDIATELY because damn it, that’s the first thing I’ve really managed to write since I finished my freaking novel and I told everyone I knew how I was writing an article for Modern Love, and oh – the heartbreak!

Time to send that f*cker somewhere else. Meanwhile I am one cranky bitch this morning due to a variety of things including lack of sleep and the conviction that I am a complete loser nobody who will never write another worthwhile thing again (and you know it wasn’t like my first book was To Kill A Mockingbird or anything! I still have something to prove!)Thank God for Brooke buying me some coffee this morning after I forgot my wallet because things would have been Very Bad without it.

Life is not all bad. Oh no, it’s f*cking dandy most of the time, just not when I’ve had less than eight hours of sleep. I got to make out with a super cute boy last night and yes, maybe he’s a construction worker, maybe not, but I’m under strict orders from my doctors not to blog about my love life anymore so that’s all you’re gonna get. He’s a really good kisser. OK, there’s a little more for you. And, um, he’s got one of the best smiles I’ve ever seen, and that is it for now because I have to go be a corporate wage slave.

YOURS TRULY,
REBECCA J. AGIEWICH