After another hour-long marathon conversation with my publisher, during which we discussed my late-February/early-March trip down to pitch this anthology series, I made a startling connection.

I’ve done this before. It was my thesis defence.

You write something, people read it, and have their own opinions. You show up in person before a scary panel of those stony-faced people, re-present your arguments with confidence and style, and then field questions in order to convince them that your conclusions are sound, and they should not only give you a degree, but hail you as a new light in the academic sky.

In this case, the only difference is that the something I’m writing is a six-page detailed proposal for an anthology series, and that they won’t give me a piece of paper to hang on my wall if I convince them; they’ll give me a contract and money instead. (You know – all those things that a degree doesn’t automatically do, but we all wish they did.)

So no, it’s not a glitch in the Matrix. It’s one of those moments where I’m relieved, because I now have an experience to which I can equate the current situation; I’m no longer working in a vacuum. It’s also a moment where I now can have genuine mini-nervous-breakdowns, because now I have a memory to build on and make even bigger and scarier when I envision delivering the pitch in a boardroom south of Boston.

Kind of good; kind of bad.

Mind you, I did kick ass during my thesis defence. I take comfort from this fact.