Second Chances

Baby chicks arrived today. Fifty seven in a box that weighed no more than two pounds, including the eight ounces of electrolyte mix I ordered. I could hear their loud cries echoing through the post office the moment I entered the building, and when the postmaster handed me the box, tiny beaks and yellow fluff peeked through the air holes as if to say hello. I couldn’t wait to meet each and every one of them.

As I lift each fragile baby from the box, I dip its beak in the water, and then set it free to roam the wood shavings strewn across the brooding house floor. It finds the food, discovers the heat lamp, and takes off to explore the far corners with its brethren. I watch them all, and inevitably I find one that stands out from the rest. One that I will name, and keep even once it stops laying eggs, and allow out of the poultry yard to follow me around the garden on sunny days. This year it is a chick that comes to my hand whenever I put it down on the litter to lean in to change the water. A golden one with stripes down each side of its back that I’ve named Speedy. There are others that come to me, others just as fast and cute and interesting. But Speedy is the one that has captured my attention.

I imagine that is what it must be like for agents and editors with all the manuscripts they review. Many manuscripts are worthy, but for no other reason than personal whim, one captures an agent’s heart. If my fifty-seven chicks had gone to another farm, a completely different chick may have been chosen as a favorite.

Unfortunately for these chicks, they don’t get a second or third chance to become a favorite. My manuscript gets to take a tour before deciding on a home. Here’s to an agent deciding mine is a favorite.