Earlier this week, on my cell phone, I received a call with a 212 area code. 212 is an area code from a New York caller. I don’t have any bill collectors — that I know of — who’d be calling me from New York, so it has to be book business. Problem is, I didn’t get the call in time because my phone was buried deep inside my brief case and, whoever called didn’t leave a message. This is gonna drive me crazy.
First, I looked up my editor’s phone number at Lee and Low. Maybe she called with the good news that they’re going to acquire my manuscript! Nope, wasn’t her.
Then I check the phone numbers of two other publishers I am currently working with, Dial Books for Children and Harper Collins. Nope, not them either. What about XYZ publisher who ain’t sent a check for an illustration I created and billed for back in April. Nope, not them either.
Desperation pushes me to call the number. Pride and common sense tell me to wait. I mean, if it was that important, wouldn’t they have called me back by now?
I have enough things to do so, I guess, I’ll try to forget about that 212 area code number. But, for the sake of getting through a boring afternoon of making maps and pie charts for my full-time gig, and for getting some sleep later tonight, I hope they call me back, today.