As soon as the paperwork arrives, I’ll be signing with literary agent Erin Murphy.

This may bode ill for her judgment, but at the moment, words fail me. I’m very, very excited. I’m ecstatic. I’m some combination of “excited” and “ecstatic” that doesn’t even have a name because it would be completely redundant with “excited” and “ecstatic.”

And I’m grateful. The past three weeks — since I first heard back from Erin about the manuscripts I sent in September — have just been fantastic. A big reason for that is the generosity of a dozen of Erin’s clients who took the time to fill me in on their experiences with her. I kept waiting for at least one of them to inspire some sliver of doubt about whether I ought to be working with Erin.

It never happened.

So, I’d like to thank them for the complete confidence I feel in the decision I’ve made. And I’m also thankful for the handful of agented Austin friends who helped me make sure I was asking all the right questions.

A special thanks goes to my wife, who has listened to me talk about another woman for the better part of a month and yet shares utterly in my enthusiasm.

I’ve said a lot about why I want an agent. It’s obviously a topic I’ve enjoyed. But I’m thrilled to be moving on now. Time to get back to writing.