Most. Exciting. Thing. Ever.

Right, there's a little bit of backstory needed before I reach the climax of excitement here (no innuendo intended...), so bear with me before the FULL OVERREACTION FREAKOUT happens.

Between the ages of 13 and 15, I wrote a fantasy trilogy, which (at 16) I sent off to numerous agencies and eventually received a letter from an agent saying that whilst my story didn't grab her, my writing style did. I met with this lady, and during the lunch it became apparent (to me, if not my mum) that what this agent wanted from me was girly teenage fiction. You can see her point - the marketable factors would have been irresistable (girly teenage troubles written by a teenage girl etc etc) - but I hate reading that kind of crap, nevermind writing it, and I made no secret of this. That being the case, she politely explained that maybe I should try writing 'something else'. Which I did.

I spent my 16th year writing another novel; more original, more mature and (hopefully) more sellable (a word? maybe...I'm not convinced). I sent this back to the same agent, got - this time - a fairly resounding 'no' and started sending it off again. By now I was 17, didn't have time to start a new writing project properly (A-Levels, social life, occasional bit of sleeping etc) and becoming increasingly disillusioned with the whole publishing industry. Seriously. You know how angry you get when someone less skilled beats you at the thing you're best at (be it a sport, creative talent, career opportunity or whatever); imagine how infuriated I used to get on reading those unbelievably popular books (mentioning no specific vampir- sorry, I meant examples) that I knew I could have written - or indeed, anyone could have written.

So about a month ago, I received my eighteenth rejection. Yep. Eighteenth. And I thought, 'maybe I should finally take this as a hint', and I very nearly gave up. There's no real reason why I didn't give up. I just opened my drawer, saw that I still had a couple of copies to send and thought 'sod it, it's not like I'm still liable to burst into tears at every rejection'. And I am practiced at this, now. You spend an hour researching the agent, package up a letter, a synopsis and the first three chapters, nip down to the post office, send it off and do your best to forget about it for six weeks (apart from the daily spasm when the post arrives).

And so last night, I checked my email for the sixth or seventh time that day (I'm waiting for university offers, agency replies and YouTube notifications. Six or seven is pretty restrained; twenty is standard), and saw that I had a reply from an agent. I heaved a heavy sigh. Eight months on, I'd grown pretty used to glazing over the words 'thank you for your submission...very interesting...unfortunately we don't think it's quite right for us...' or some variant thereof.

So I opened the email and let my eyes skim over the typically short message. 'Thank you for your submission...great potential...send your full typescript...'

Wait, what?

I'll admit, that was the point at which my heart started trying to beat it's way out of my ribcage. I forced myself to take a deep breath, look carefully, read it word-for-word (and then another eight or so times, for clarification). 'We have received you submission and feel it has great potential so would like to see more material. Could you submit the full typescript to us, preferably by post.' I stared blankly at the computer screen for about a minute. Then I leapt up, half-jumped across my bedroom floor, tried to yank open the door (nearly fell out of it) and sprinted down the stairs screaming "MUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMM!!!"

And to be honest, this isn't a guarantee, or anything approaching one. This agency hasn't offered to represent me. To put it in more understandable terms, it's like sending your CV out to a bunch of companies and - at long last - getting an interview. The chances of getting the job are still slim but I have, finally, after months - years, really - of failed attempts, I've finally jumped that first hurdle. For the first time in years, I've received some encouragement, after months and months of failures. And it feels bloody brilliant.